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imaginatorcreates · 9 months

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Songs

15 July 2023 — 22 July 2023

Summary: In which Akemi fixes a mecha and talks to Jazz about things.

Word Count: ~3k words

Author's Notes: Featuring my OCs in a D&D-esque world! Also, not entirely edited because my brain is tired.

Playlist:

Tank! By The Seatbelts: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFFa0QoHWvE

Secret Code by BRADIO: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRHDI140yjw

Dream Sweet in Sea Major from Hawaii: Pt. 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxyM7vhU0uU

Doctor by Jack Stauber: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYLOEY012do

“In a few days, the water should be purified again, and communication should be open to the outside regions, those that lie beyond The Divine Archipelago. If you see our heroes around the college or out and about, please thank them!

“That’s all for now, listeners.”

Akemi shut the radio off with a soft click and let out a soft sigh. She smiled to herself as she placed her arms on the workbench table, then rested her hand on her arms. “It was a battle of epic proportions!” she said with tired enthusiasm.

She glanced at the mecha she impulsively took out into battle. It was pink, sleek, and horribly battered. It took some hits from the Nightmare Goddess, denting its main armor. However, the main reason why it looked worse for wear was all the negative life energy that Dendar — that was the name according to her friend’s long presentation of notes, right? The notes were heavily TL;DR-ed by the tiefling — attacked her mecha with.

She was thankfully alive due to the mecha taking the brunt of the goddess’s attack, but she still couldn’t have helped the spike of panic and adrenaline that had coursed through her veins as the lights from the control cockpit flickered and every warning sound and sign had popped into existence.

“It’s okay! You’re not dead. Again. Yet.” Akemi took a deep breath in and out. “You’re alive. That’s what matters.”

She picked up her head from her workbench and looked at her battered mecha. “Oh, I could try to fix you up tonight. Just a bit. Until Jazz arrives.” The pink tiefling got up and stretched. She fiddled with the radio, adjusting the antenna and the dials so she would be able to play some of her own music as she worked. She turned up the volume and heard the blaring saxophone belt out the opening notes. As the bass and the bongos kicked in, she held her wrench up to her mouth as she mouthed the only vocals in the song:

“I think it's time we blow this scene. Get everybody and the stuff together. Okay, three, two, one let's jam.”

As the song picked up, she grabbed some of her tools, hopped onto her levitating platform and went about to fix up her mecha. The physical damage wasn’t all that bad. She used a few of the provided stored spells in the platform to shape the dented metal parts back, and she was able to fix and replace some of the interior mechanisms that had been knocked out of place.

However, the most tedious part of her work was figuring out how to get rid of the magical damage done to her baby.

Physical damage was easier to spot and fix.

Magical damage, on the other hand, required careful attention and some precautionary devices in case the magic was volatile. Akemi had seen what happened when neither of the above was heeded, and to be honest? She didn’t want to have to deal with that tonight!

“So hard! Why do you have to be so difficult for me tonight, ne?” she playfully asked her mecha as she rapped her knuckles on the metal. She waited a few moments before she acted like she was thinking. “Oh, but I could always save the hard work for tomorrow, yeah? More beings to help me out, more supplies…yeeaah, procrastination it is!”

She pulled up the protection runes on the control panel of the levitating platform and slapped a few onto her mecha. Head, torso, back, and limbs. The runes thrummed to life and made a few automatic adjustments based on the bad magic that had infected her mecha. When their song faded into a small hum, Akemi leaned back on the railing of the platform that everyone said to never lean on (oh, but college students felt themselves to be indestructible!) and admired her work.

Her playlist suddenly changed songs midway through and she turned around to find one, very familiar, very well-loved, blue-skinned, pointy-eared being fiddling with the radio.

“Jazz!” Akemi exclaimed. “When did you walk in here?”

“A while ago,” they said as they put the radio back onto the workbench table. “Enough to see you in the middle of fixing your mecha.” Their voice was no longer the smoother, more masculine voice everyone in the school heard through the radio. It was back to their preferred feminine one. But to analyze the different spectrums of the voice that was Jazz could take a lifetime.

Honestly? Akemi would enjoy that lifetime if it meant that she could listen to their voice forever.

Jazz gave her a toothy grin and tapped their pointer finger on the table to the beat of the song. “I bet you know the lyrics to this better than I do.” That was the only indication of their planned actions before they started to sing along.

“Feeling it in order is useless”

Akemi quickly tapped on the control panel of the platform to make it travel to the ground so she could join in on the improvised singalong.

“Love is a secret code, in other words”

The band’s choice to add in some Common to the song always kept Akemi on her toes whenever she listened to the song the first few times. She bopped her head alongside the tune as the threw open the railing and hopped down.

“Just what is its key? What does it want?”

Akemi skipped over to Jazz’s side and gave them a grin. She didn’t dare say a word before the first verse was even over.

“While it is beautiful, I don't want to understand it”

Akemi soon joined in with vocalizations as the first verse faded out. She moved her feet to the beat and spun around a little. “Did ‘cha miss me?” she asked Jazz as the vocalizations ended and the song started its next verse.

“Always,” Jazz said with a soft sigh. “Always, every day.” Their orange eyes softened as they looked at her. “I thought about you while I was on air tonight.”

“Oh really?” Akemi sat on her workplace bench and patted the spot next to her. “Do you wanna tell me about it?”

Jazz sat down next to her. “Can I, um, hug you while I tell you?”

Akemi raised her arms above her head. “Go ahead.”

Jazz adjusted their sitting position so they were more angled towards the shorter of the pair and wrapped their arms around her waist. They placed their chin on her shoulder and let out a quiet sigh.

Their own horns lightly hit Akemi’s and she chuckled at the overall sensation. “You’re in a cuddly mood today,” she said as she reached up with one of her hands and patted Jazz’s cheek. “You okay?”

“Mmm,” Jazz hummed. “Just trying to understand why you of all the beings in this college would look at a fight with a goddess and think to yourself, ‘I should jump into battle!’” They squeezed her tightly and added disgruntledly, “You may be smart, but you’re not wise Emi!”

Akemi sighed and placed her other hand onto Jazz’s hands. “I’m alive aren’t I? It’s proof that my mecha is battle-worthy as it’s been tested in the field.”

“That’s not an excuse! You could’ve died there.” Jazz squeezed her again and whispered, “I wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t come back alive.”

Akemi opened her mouth to speak but Jazz was faster. “And no! Just because you already experienced death before, and that it scared you from the life of an adventurer…it doesn't mean that you could just go out there and do it again!”

Akemi stayed silent for a little to allow Jazz to calm down and collect their thoughts. When she felt their hug loosen a bit, she spoke up. “Your feelings are valid, let me start with that.” She patted their cheek again as she continued. “And you’re right. I could’ve died out there. And there might’ve been no way to be revived a second time. But those outsiders? Those weirdos out there? They’re my friends too. I wanted to help them in any way I could.”

Jazz hugged her tightly again. “You could’ve remotely piloted a mecha.”

“This mecha was meant for in-person control.”

“You could’ve looked for a different mecha.”

“This was the first mecha I jumped into.”

“By the gods Akemi!” Jazz let go of the hug and placed their hands on Akemi’s shoulders as they turned to fully face her. “You’re so…! You don’t think sometimes.”

“I know.”

“You worry me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re such a handful with your brilliant mind and your seemingly lack of common sense.”

Akemi pressed her forehead against Jazz’s forehead. “And you’re a handful yourself. You’re running a part-time radio station, helping build the next form of communication, and you somehow still managed to have feelings for me.”

Jazz chuckled. “Just don’t do anything stupid like that again. If not for me, then for your family.”

“Ah ah ah! You’re still included in the last part!” Akemi moved her head away from Jazz’s to properly gauge their reaction.

It seemed as if they had a small blush on their face from something she had said earlier, but now that blush had intensified and spread to their ears. “What?”

“You’re family to me! In whatever sense that means,” Akemi smiled at them. “And no take-backs!”

Jazz let out what could be described as a 20/80 mix of a snort and a chuckle. “Okay, no take-backs from me.” They stood up from the bench and asked, “Should we be heading home now?”

Akemi clicked off the radio and looked around at her workshop. It was relatively tidy. No need to clean it up. “Sure. Just need to fix up the main workshop and I’ll be good to go.”

Akemi shut off the lights and locked up before walking with Jazz to the main workshop. As the pair navigated their way through the quiet halls of the college, a figure nearly ran by them.

The figure stopped to look at the horned pair. They had a patchy phono with a hood that rested atop their head. Their hands gripped onto the edge of the hood as if it were the only thing that prevented them from being seen.

On the contrary, it only drew more attention to them in this circumstance.

Akemi peaked around the hood and managed to catch a glimpse of the figure’s face. A vitiligo-like pattern was visible on their bare skin, and white hair framed a pair of golden eyes that looked between Akemi and Jazz with a hint of curiosity amongst the fear of being caught.

The pink tiefling gestured towards an open window near the roof of the hallway. “Kenari went home already.”

The figure looked in the direction of Akemi’s gesture and nodded. They signed a quick ‘thank you’ before they scrambled up and out the window.

Jazz gave Akemi a confused look. “Did you know them?”

“Not really. Ask Kenari about it tomorrow. She knows a lot more about her friend.”

------

The fresh air hit differently when the pair finally left the college building. It was still relatively bright outside and pleasantly warm for the evening. Akemi stretched as the two walked. “Ah! That’s nice.” She saw Jazz look at them out of the corner of her eye, and turned to face them. “What?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking.”

“About what? C’mon Jazzy, what’s in your brain now?”

Jazz sighed. “Just thinking of some lyrics to a song.”

“You’re in a cuddly and musical mood today! Wow! Two birds with one stone.” Akemi mimicked throwing something as she said this.

Jazz chuckled at her antics and started to softly sing.

“You look quite divine tonight

“Here among these vibrant lights

“Pure delights surround us as we sail

“Signed, yours truly, the whale”

Akemi once again found herself being swept up on the voice that was Jazz. She gently swayed as she walked alongside them, her eyes glued to them as they serenaded her with a song that she had listened to a few times, but never enough to truly remember how the rest of it went.

However, she knew how the next part went and took silent joy in seeing Jazz appear flustered over this as she sang.

“Joy mirage's kingdom come

“No one left at stake

“Now that existence is on the wake

“Let's see what we can make”

“Of course you would know more of the song,” Jazz groaned. “You alien.”

“Thank you, my radio star!” Akemi giggled and bowed towards them. “I should be happy you’re serenading me today. I love your voice when you do.”

“Well, I love you,” Jazz said back.

“I love you too!”

“No. Akemi.” Jazz took her hand and brought it up to their lips before planting a gentle kiss onto the back of it. “I love you.”

Akemi let out a garbled exhale of words at this action. “I love you too Jazz.” Her face felt warm, but she kept it under wraps as she simply looked at them. “I love you with reckless abandon.”

Another quick kiss. “Do you get what I’m saying? I feel like you’re not.”

“You’re saying that you love me.” Akemi shrugged. “What more is there to that?”

“Your hands are cold,” Jazz murmured. “And you’re being dense again.” They took her other hand and sandwiched it between their own. A second passed before they gripped one hand in their own in an attempt to warm it up. They brought the other hand up to their lips and peppered it in small kisses.

Akemi let a giggle bubble up and burst. “Jazzy! What are you doing?”

“Warming up your hands.”

“By holding one and kissing the other?”

“It’s silly and stupid, yes! But you’ve been stressed lately Emi.” Jazz switched hands and said “Plus, I want to spoil you a little” before covering her other hand with kisses.

Akemi’s face warmed at the kind gesture. Her green eyes softened and closed a little as she silently watched Jazz spoil her. Yes, she may not love Jazz in the way that her classmates always gossiped about, but she loved them. She loved them in such a way that she would love an idea that wouldn’t let her go: She thought about them in many ways, but it was always blurring the lines between what she might do with a friend and what she read about in the books between lovers.

She loved them.

Oh.

That’s what they meant!

Before she could share the revelation that she made, Jazz lowered her hand from their lips and held both of her hands in one of their own. With their free hand, they gently grabbed her chin and gave her a quick kiss on her nose.

Now her face felt like it was going into a full blush! “Oop!” she gasped. “I think I’m sick again!”

Jazz laughed. “I’m not a doctor, but I think I might be able to help,” they said in a singsong tone.

“Oh!” Akemi giggled. “So you know that song too!”

“Of course. You introduced it to me.”

“Oh right!”

Jazz chuckled and gave Akemi a tight hug. “Silly alien.”

“I love you too, my radio star.”

“Do you really?”

“Yes! You know why?”

A hum. “Maybe I do, but tell me.”

“Because you’re Jazz.”

“How specific of you.”

“Oh! So you want specifics?” Akemi looked at them with a smirk. “I’ll give you specifics!” She gently placed her hands on their cheeks and looked them in the eyes as she whispered, “In another world, I swear I'll always seek you out. I’d find you and pick you out of a crowd. Every. Single. Time. Whether that be acting stupid in a market or laying on the ground with you, I'll find you and I’ll find a way to love you.”

The two stood in silence for what felt like a long time. Akemi could feel that Jazz’s face had gotten warmer, and she had no doubt that her own face had warmed as well.

“By the gods…” Jaz breathed. “I can’t top that.”

“You could always try.”

Jazz stood there for a few moments before they simply pressed their forehead to Akemi’s. “Not right now.”

“You sure?”

“Well…” Jazz broke the forehead touch before they tilted their head a little and looked at her for permission.

Akemi chuckled. “Oh, you. Just one.”

“Just one,” they repeated. “Just one for this evening in this world.”

The two met in the middle. Gone were the sudden lunges and bleeding lips; those were in the past. Now, it was just quick and sweet, punctuated with giggles and thumbs gently rubbing each others’ cheeks.

“You enjoy those a little much, don’t you?”

“Well,” Jazz slowly moved away and shrugged. “I sometimes think to myself, in another world, I could be in love with you, in that typical way. Or maybe I am, and I’m deep in denial. But, I’m happy here, with what we have,” they concluded. “And if that's okay with you, then that’s all I really need.”

Akemi only pressed their foreheads together for a quick nuzzle as she answered with, “Then so be it.” She pulled away again and grabbed Jazz’s hand. “Okay! Dinner! Let’s grab some before all the good places sell out!” She pointed forwards as if on an important quest. “Onwards!”

The two walked off, hands swinging in the air in large arches when they felt silly enough. It was silly, stupid, but most of all, it was absolutely uniquely lovely.

#Ima Writes #writing #original writing #my writing #oc #queer #lgbtq+#queerplatonic #dnd #dungeons and dragons

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honeybadgerwritings · 3 months

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DONT READ THIS ITS NOT FINISHED AND I DIDNT MEAN TO POST IT 😭

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary:

Warnings:

A/N:

—————————

The atmosphere of the empty high school hallways would normally seem calming to you, peaceful even. But right now they’re filling you with nothing but an overwhelming sense of dread; reminding you of how everyone else is in class, where they need to be.

Everyone else is continuing on with their day as normal, and you’re being sent home.

You’d been pulled from your biology class in the middle of a test, a particularly hard one that you hadn’t bothered to study for, and were called into the office to meet with the principal. You were asked to bring your bag with you, and the entire class “oooo”ed as you stepped out of the room, cheeks burning bright red.

You could feel your palms sweating, wracking your brain for anything you might’ve done to get yourself in trouble, but you came up with nothing. Nothing bad enough to be called to the office at least.

When the school principal opened the door to his office, you were surprised to see Ms. Kelley, the school guidance counselor, waiting inside. She’d smiled at you, but it was filled with sympathy. They’d sat you down, both looking at you so solemnly, that for a moment you’d thought maybe someone close to you had died.

“Is everything okay? Is my aunt alright?” You’d asked, immediately being reassured that she was completely fine and there was nothing to worry about, so you were able to breathe a sigh of relief.

That, however, did not last long.

“We had another student come to us recently and… well, they told us some concerning things about you Y/N. We wanted to maybe speak to you about them.” Miss Kelley had stated.

Your heart fell into your stomach, and your words were caught in your throat. You had a feeling you knew what she was talking about, but that’s not what startled you.

What startled you was that there was only one person who was supposed to know.

You’d been struggling for the last year and a half with your mental health, and lately things were only getting worse. The most difficult part of it all is you can’t seem to figure out why.

Part of you wants to pin the blame on all of the “End of the world” bullshit you had been forced to endure at such a young age. All the unprocessed trauma that lives inside of you, eating you alive every time you think about it. And while you know you’d be half right if you did, you also know that the other half is something you’re unable to explain.

You have the perfect boyfriend, the most amazing group of friends, and even though you don’t have much family, you’re content living with your aunt (even if she’s rarely home). You live a comfortable life in a cozy home, and you don’t have to worry about work until you graduate. So why is it so hard for you to get out of bed in the morning? To shower? Brush your teeth? To take care of yourself?

Why are your grades rapidly plummeting from A’s to D’s and F’s? Why haven’t you had the energy or will to clean your room in the last four months? Why do you feel like the whole world is watching as your life falls to pieces and you cave in on yourself?

And why did the one person you thought you could trust with these thoughts, rat you out?

A few months ago, your boyfriend had been concerned for your well-being after you had gone a whole 2 weeks without seeing him, and decided to show up at your house. It was there in the dark that he’d found you, curled up in your bed, completely dead to the world as you laid there, feeling numb.

He’d been so sweet to you, just holding you in his arms, before slowly coaxing you out of bed and into the shower. He’d joined you, gentle with his touches as he’d helped you get clean.

He’d monitored you brushing your teeth, after you’d told him that it’d been a week and a half since you’d last done so, before fetching some new clothes for you to change into.

He’d helped you change your bedsheets, throwing the old ones into the wash, before laying down, just holding you in his arms. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t try to coax answers out of you, he just waited patiently until you were ready to talk.

And when you were, you laid it all out for him, explaining every detail. He’d listened intently, reassured you when you choked on your words, and he understood without judgement. Even when you’d told him that a part of you doesn’t want to be alive anymore.

He was the first, and only person that you’d ever told.

You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were in that office. Seeing the fear in his eyes when you’d said those words, you should’ve seen something like this coming.

You’d stuttered your way through the entire conversation, trying to assure the two staff members that everything was fine and there was nothing to worry about, but it was easy to see that they didn’t believe you.

So now you’re here, being sent home for the rest of the week to “focus on yourself” or something like that. To make matters worse, starting next Monday you’re to check in with Ms. Kelley twice a week.

And frankly? You’d rather bang your head against a wall.

You slam your locker shut with a groan, and lean forward, resting your forehead against the cool metal. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you try to collect your thoughts.

“Y/N?”

You tense at the sound of his voice, dripping with concern. It was just your luck for him to show up right now. You find yourself cursing the universe, because god forbid you catch a break once in a while. You shake your head, turning to walk, not even acknowledging him.

“Hey… wait up!” You hear him jogging up behind you, before he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to grab your attention. Though you’re quick to shrug it off.

“Don’t touch me.” You mutter, pushing the front doors open, and heading towards your car. You don’t see the way realization fills his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek as he follows you out to the parking lot.

“Where are you going?” He asks timidly, but you don’t answer him as you reach your car, shoving your backpack into the passenger seat, “Baby?”

“Don’t call me that.” You snap, spinning to face him, “You don’t get to call me that.” He throws his hands up in defense, backing away from you.

“Okay… okay.” He states calmly, not wanting to upset you further. He knows exactly what this is about, and he knew you’d react this way if you figured out it was him. Which was almost inevitable, because who else could’ve told the school administration about your depression?

Your glare is sharp, cutting through him like a knife as he awkwardly stands there, not knowing how to better the situation. “How could you?” You sniffle, eyes welling up with tears, “How could you tell them Steve?”

He’s doesn’t know what to say at first, doesn’t know how to respond in a way that could put you at ease, “I-I didn’t know what else to do! You were starting to scare me and I-”

“You promised!” You interrupt, anger boiling deep in your gut, “You promised to keep this between you and I, and the first thing you go and do is tell the school administration? Are you serious?”

Somewhere deep in your mind you know you’re being hard on him, you know that he’s genuinely concerned for your safety, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Just- take a breath okay? Will you at least let me explain myself?” He practically begs, trying to diffuse the situation. But you’re not having it.

“No, I don’t need you to.” Your tone is sharp.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh, “Listen, I understand that you’re upset, but you’re being unreasonable. Please just try to trust me here.”

Disbelief is the only thing you can feel right now. You scoff, “No. You don’t get to talk about trust right now. Especially after you broke mine. Now you’re here telling me that I need to calm down and that I’m being unreasonable? Fuck you Steve.”

“Y/N c’mon! Will you just listen to me?”

“Why should I listen to you? I told you things that I’ve never told anyone! Now I have to go to counseling two days a week, and the entire school staff thinks I’m fucking crazy.” Your voice cracks as you cuss, and you wipe your teary eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

He takes a step towards you, and you take a step back, not wanting to be any closer to him, “Nobody thinks you’re crazy. It’s normal to feel like this.”

“No it’s not! Nothing about any of this is normal Steve!”

He doesn’t respond to that, knowing you won’t believe him if he tells you otherwise. At least not while you’re in this headspace. Instead, he takes another step towards you, voice softening as he does so, “Sweetheart please…”

You don’t look at him, but you don’t back away, letting a tear or two fall from your eyes. Your voice shakes lightly as you speak, “When we first got together, you said you’d never hurt me.”

His heart feels like it’s shattering in his chest, and he’s shaking his head, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Believe me, that’s the absolute last thing I wanted to do. I just wanted to help you.” He takes another step closer to you, almost completely closing the gap between the two of you.

But it’s enough to pull you back.

You step away from him again, making your way to the drivers side of your car. “I didn’t need your help. I needed you to be there for me, not talk about my personal shit.”

You tug open the driver door, bitterly spitting out, “I never should’ve trusted you.” Before slamming it and speeding off out of the parking lot, leaving Steve in the dust.

———

Robin is the first to show up at your house.

Two days after your argument with Steve, you’re being pulled from your afternoon nap by the incessant ringing of your doorbell. You get up from the couch with a groan, quickly tucking your blanket over your shoulders, not wanting to leave the warm comfort it brings you. You can only hope that you don’t look too bad as you pull open the door.

You’re not surprised to see her; she comes over unannounced fairly often. Usually it’s to watch a movie she’d snatched from family video, or to swoon over Vickie for hours on end. You don’t even get a chance to greet her before the words slip past her lips, “Holy shit you look like hell.”

You stare at her, unamused, “Thanks Rob.”

Her eyes widen in realization at what she’d said, “Oh shit no- I didn’t mean it like that I swear- it’s just that your hair is like all over the place and you look like you haven’t slept in days and I was just-”

You roll your eyes, “Do you wanna keep insulting me or are you going to come inside?”

“Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

She steps in, not even bothering to hang up her jacket or take off her shoes as she makes a beeline for the couch. She pats the spot next to her, inviting you to sit, and you do, turning to her and raising an eyebrow expectantly.

She clears her throat, “So, um…. nice place you’ve got here.” She says awkwardly, and you can’t help but snort, “You’ve been here a thousand times.”

She groans, exasperated, dropping her head in her hands, “I know I’m sorry, I’m just not very good at this.”

Your smile falters, “Good at what?”

She frowns as if it was supposed to obvious, “I don’t know, comforting you? Mending arguments? I heard what happened between you and Steve.” You feel your heart sink.

So she isn’t here to spend time with you, she’s here because she knows, and once again, you definitely didn’t tell her.

You let out a sharp laugh, except it wasn’t humor filled in the slightest, it was mean, angry, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Her eyes widen, “What? What’d I say?”

You shake your head, standing up, “Just go home Robin.” You sigh disappointed, making your way towards the front door. She’s quick to stand, gently grabbing your wrist to stop you.“No wait! I want to be here, I want to help you!”

You groan, rubbing your forehead in frustration, “I don’t need help. Why the hell does everyone keep telling me that?”

“Because we’re all worried about you!” She blurts out, not knowing the damage she’s doing to you with every word that slips past her lips.

“All?” You ask softly, and she nods.

“Me, Nancy, Eddie, Jonathan. But nobody’s freaking out like Steve. He’s a mess, wants to give you space and shit but he’s so worried about you.” A part of you feels bad knowing that Steve’s probably pacing, tugging at his perfect hair and biting his nails raw on your account,

“He’s even got the kids freaking out too! They think you’re going to… do something.”

You don’t feel bad anymore.

“Do…something?” You ask lowly. You know exactly what she means, but feel like you need to hear her say it.

“I don’t know, hurt yourself? Do something you’ll regret?”

You scoff, “You actually think-”

She cuts you off, an exasperated look covering her face, “I don’t know what to think Y/N! I find out you’re extremely depressed, and here you are, trying to act like it’s no big deal!”

You bite the inside of your cheek, refraining from saying anything mean to Robin. You have to remind yourself none of this is her fault, “And how exactly did you find out that I’m ‘extremely depressed?’”

“I-” she pauses for a moment, watching you carefully, “Steve told me. Steve told all of us a week ago.” Tears fill your eyes, and you try your hardest not to let them roll down your cheeks. You nod slowly, sniffling, “Of fucking course he did.”

“Y/N…” she murmurs, finally realizing why you’re so hurt. She carefully takes a step towards you and places a hand on your shoulder, but you shake your head.

“No one was supposed to know. He- he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. He promised me that he wouldn’t.” You choke out. “And now everyone knows. He lied to me.” Your whole body shakes, and you pinch your eyes shut.

“Oh honey…” she murmurs, “He only did it because he was so worried about you. He needed advice, wanted to know the best way to help you-”

“For fucks sake I don’t need help!” You finally snap, voice rising to the point of startling Robin, and she takes a step back, eyes widened at your outburst. You sigh, shoulders dropping as you hang your head in shame, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” your voice trails off mid apology,

“I think you should go Rob.”

She steps forward again, “But I-” You shake your head, “Please leave.” You whisper to hide the crack in your voice, and she nods solemnly. She makes her way to the door, looking back at you as she opens it, “Call me if you need anything. I mean it.” And just like that the door shuts and she’s gone.

You crumple to the floor and cry until you fall asleep.

———

The next time you’re disturbed, you don’t even have to look up to know who it is.

Your front door squeaks open, gaining no reaction from you as your eyes stay trained on the television, wheel of fortune taking up the screen. You know you’d locked the door originally, and you don’t know many people who can unlatch locks with their minds.

You huff out a tired laugh, watching as the two girls sit down on the coffee table in front of you, blocking the TV from view. They both look at you expectantly with their arms crossed, “What do you two want?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“To get you out of your house.” Max answers, “You haven’t left in a week.”

You roll your eyes, realizing this is another attempt at making you feel better, “That’s not true,” You groan, “Yesterday I went to pick up some take out.”

“Seriously?” The redhead asks, a look of disbelief on her face. Her eyes rake over your form, and you watch as she scrunches her nose, wanting to cave in on yourself a little, “When was the last time you even showered?” And ouch, that stung a little (a lot).

“Max,” El cuts in, “Nancy said to be nice.”

You may not know much, but you do know that El doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. So you try your best to hide your disappointment when you hear that Nancy sent them.

Max’s face falls as she realizes the harshness behind her words, “Shit, right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She actually seems apologetic, and you can’t find it in yourself to be upset with her. Granted, you can’t find it in yourself to feel much lately, “It’s just, we haven’t seen you in a while and we wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

She’s genuine, and you feel guilty for not reaching out to them, or any of the other kids in the last week. But it’s hard. It’s hard to find the energy to even take care of yourself, let alone interact with other human beings. You find yourself sitting up entirely to face them,

“I know, I’m sorry. I just… haven’t been feeling like myself lately.” Max nods, knowing what you mean. It was hard for her after Billy died. That was no secret to anyone. So if anyone is going to understand you, it’s her.

El, however, remains entirely clueless.

She eyes you strangely with her head tilted, “Who do you feel like then?” She receives a weird look from the redhead beside her, and you can’t help but let out an amused laugh, the first bit of happiness you’ve felt in last week.

“It’s an expression. I’m um… feeling sad I guess, so I’m not as happy as I usually am. I don’t feel normal.” You try to explain it in a way that she can easily understand, and she nods slowly, thinking.

“How can we help you feel normal?” She asks after a moment, and as much as your heart melts at the sweetness of the girl before you, you’re unsure of how to answer.

Max, your savior, cuts in with an idea of her own, “What about a girls night?” You look at her in confusion, considering they’re both like five years younger than you. Though it’s a pretty mellow idea, at least compared to some of the things you’ve experienced with them in the last few years.

You’re quick to shake off the images of alternate dimensions and lurking monsters, returning to reality, “A girls night?” You ask, cautiously.

“Yeah! We could order pizza, watch your favorite movies, paint each others nails… we could even sleep over… only if you want us to of course.” She’s quick to add, and with the way they’re both beaming at you, there’s no way you can say no to them.

“Okay.” You agree after a moment, “That sounds fun but uh- I don’t really have much food, and I don’t have any movies rented.”

“We have to run home anyways!” El chimes in, “To pack.”

“But we can totally pick up a movie or two! Which ones do you want?” Max asks, excitedly bouncing on her heels, and you take a moment to think, before an unfortunate thought occurs to you. It’s Saturday.

Steve works Saturday’s at family video.

“Um- before we figure that out, can you guys promise me something?” You stumble on your words nervously. They eagerly nod in sync, and you can’t help but smile at the teens, “Promise not to tell Steve that the movies are for me?” Max is quick to nod again, but El looks confused once more.

“Did Steve make you sad?” She asks. As much as you want to say yes, you know that it wouldn’t be fair to him, so you shake your head, plastering on a reassuring smile on for El’s sake.

“No honey, we just can’t let him know how much fun we’re gonna have without him tonight.” She giggles at that, nodding excitedly, and you feel your heart warm, ignoring Max’s sympathetic look.

“Footloose and Sixteen Candles it is then.”

In the time that they’re gone, you force yourself to shower and throw a load of laundry in the washer and dryer. You also take time to clean not only the bathroom, but the living room as well, laying out blankets and pillows for them to sleep on when they grew tired enough.

You can’t help but feel kind of proud. It might not have been a lot of work, but it was more progress than you’ve made in the last week, and that had to count for something.

You call and place an order for a large pepperoni and a medium Hawaiian pizza, per the girls requests, and the food arrives mere moments before they pull up on their bikes.

Max was definitely right. The girls night was a really good distraction from everything. You’d listened to them gossip, gave them advice about their relationships, painted each others nails, happily munched on pizza, and watched Footloose together.

They’d both fallen asleep in their makeshift beds during Sixteen Candles, and you’d tucked them in, making sure they’re each covered with a blanket. You laid back down to finish the movie, falling asleep at some point before the end.

The next morning you make them each breakfast, before sending them on their way with the movies, thanking them for the fun night.

Unfortunately, you can’t stop the sickening feeling from crawling up your spine as you watch them bike down the road, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. You can already feel the purple polish chipping from your fingernails, leaving a horrible sense of dread in its wake as you make your way back to the couch.

Your clothes stay in the dryer, and the blankets stay on the living room floor, untouched.

————

The next time you’re disturbed, it’s not from the supernatural powers of El, but rather blaring police sirens instead.

You frown when you hear them, listening as they make their way up your driveway, accompanied by the sounds of kicked up gravel. They’re cut short as the engine of the vehicle stops, and you glance at the clock on the wall, reading 8:39 PM.

What the hell could the cops want at this time?

When you pull open the door, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are to see Hopper on your front porch. He has that tough facade that he always puts on, but you can see it falter in his eyes. You’ve been learning to do that lately.

“Hop.” You greet him, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt over your head, hiding your tangled, unwashed hair.

“Hey kid,” he nods at you, taking off his hat, “The uh- the school called, said you haven’t showed up yet this week. No phone calls, no nothing.” He shuffles his feet awkwardly, not so subtly observing the bags under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the greasy hair that sticks out from your hood, “Wanted me to do a wellness check on you.”

You shrug your shoulders, gesturing to yourself, “I’m well.” He huffs out an unamused laugh, shaking his head.

“Yeah…I’m not so sure about that.”

Your brows furrow, and you can’t help the way you glare at him, though you can tell he remains unaffected in the slightest, “I’m fine Hop. Just sick is all.” The lie rolls off your tongue easily, but you can tell he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying.

“Sick? I thought you were ‘well’?” He raises an eyebrow, quoting your previous choice of words.

“And I thought wellness checks were for making sure people are still alive. Didn’t realize tending to the ill was part of your job description.” You grumble, kicking a pebble, watching as it hits the older man’s boot, bouncing off it, “I’m fine. You can go home Hop. I’m sure Joyce and your kids are waiting for you.”

As much as you attempt to hide it, he doesn’t miss the tiny bit of dejection in your tone at the mention of family. He knows it’s a touchy subject for you, considering you don’t have much left.

He clears his throat, “Actually uh-” he reaches over to one of the chairs on your porch, picking up a tupperware container he’d most likely set there earlier, “Joyce asked me to bring this to you.” You take the container from him, lifting the lid to see it’s contents.

Your mouth waters at the sight of pot roast, carrots, and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, the scent hitting your nose. You can’t remember the last time you’d had an actual home cooked meal, only surviving off of takeout and junk food whenever your aunt is gone, “Hop you guys really didn’t have to-”

He shakes his head, cutting you off, “I know we didn’t, but we did. So take it.” You nod, closing the lid fully with a small ‘thank you.’

“Is Donna home?” He asks, referring to your aunt. You shake your head. “How long til she’s back?”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, “Dunno. She said she’d be back by last Friday, but I assume her trip got extended again. It’s not really out of the ordinary for her to come back later than she planned.” He stares at you for a moment, and you wrap your arms around your body, slightly caving in on yourself as he does so.

Jim Hopper is a man that has always been impossible to read. His constant stoic expressions and bored tones usually leave you wondering whether he’s angry with you or not, even if you’ve done nothing wrong. This is most definitely one of those times.

“You know kid…” he finally breaks the silence, “You can always stay with us when she’s gone. Can’t imagine it’s fun being left alone for this long.” He clears his throat, “And besides, El had so much fun with you last Saturday, she’d be excited to have the occasional roommate.” You’re too stunned by his offer to conjure up a response, so he continues,

“And Will he uh- he’s been talking about how much he misses you. Well, how much all the boys miss you.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Dustin and Lucas have been begging me to check on you for days.”

“Not Mike?” You ask with a smirk and he chuckles, shaking his head, “Yeah well you know how he is. Little shit acts like he doesn’t care, but I heard him talking to my daughter last night. He uh- he misses you too.”

The idea of it should warm your heart, knowing all of the kids have so much love for you, but it only makes you feel worse. “So I’m really worrying everybody huh?” You ask timidly, shame filling your entire body.

Hop nods, not hesitating to be honest, “Nobody more than Harrington.” You groan, rolling your eyes at his confession. You’re still very obviously angry with Steve. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be having this conversation. Although with each passing day, you find it easier to understand why he’d done what he did.

Hopper watches you, contemplating for a moment as he chooses his words carefully, “Listen, I’m not very good at the whole relationship advice thing.” You’re prepared to stop him, saving yourself from his awkwardness. Instead he cuts you off, “But believe it or not, I know what it’s like to be in a dark place.”

That stops you, because of course you believe it. The whole town had used his late drunken nights and many hookups as gossip topics for years.

Hardly anyone showed remorse for him, even if they knew the reasons behind his actions. You’d always found it horrendous, adding another excuse to your list of reasons that Hawkins is a shithole.

“And I promise you, it gets better.” He adds, “It always does. But not until you let people help you.”

You want to scream. You want to cry, and kick, and punch the nearest object, tired of being told that you need help. But you don’t do any of those things, simply shrugging as you pick up the Tupperware once more, “Tell Joyce I said thanks for dinner Hop. I appreciate you stopping by.”

He clears his throat, getting the message as he places his hat back on his head, “Don’t mention it. If you need anything, I’m a phone call away alright?” You nod, watching him walk back to his truck. Just as you’re about to turn and head inside he adds a gruff, “I’ll call the school and tell them you’re sick, but you’re back on Monday. You hear?”

You nod and he gives you a reassuring one in return, “My offer still stands, come over anytime.” You smile, giving him a thumbs up as he pulls out of your driveway, though it fades from your face once the door is shut.

You set the container in the fridge, not hungry anymore.

————

You’re awoken to the sound of your doorbell ringing once, twice, three times. You glance at the 9:30am displayed on the wall clock, and ready yourself to tell Robin to go away again. That is, until you hear the desperate voice of Steve Harrington.

“Y/N, it’s Steve. I know you’re in there. Can you come out please?” You swear your heart stops for a moment when you hear him, and you slowly lift yourself off of the couch, peering around the corner to get a good look through the glass in the door.

And there he stands, frantically running a hand through his hair, the other one reaching for the doorbell again. His sudden presence doesn’t frighten you as much as his appearance, because to be honest, he looks like just as much of a wreck as you do. From what you can see, bags have formed under his eyes, his movements are anxiety ridden, and you can hear his voice shake when he speaks.

“Baby please, I just want to talk to you.”

He looks through the glass, and you quickly duck back around the corner, back pressed tightly against the wall. You’re unsure of whether he saw you or not, so you don’t move. You keep your back pressed to that wall for the next twenty minutes, ultimately forcing you to listen to his pleas, to how worried he is, to how heartbroken he sounds.

It isn’t until you hear a sigh of defeat through the door, and the rumble of his car engine that you feel safe enough to move. And sure enough when you peek out your window, you watch him pull out of your driveway, taking off down the road.

You make your way back to the couch, not moving for the rest of the day.

————

Metalheads had been a huge target of the satanic panic during the 80’s, unintentionally scaring every god-fearing person that crossed their paths. You’d always roll your eyes whenever you’d witness it, knowing people have much worse things to fear than someone with a different taste in music.

Though, even after all of the interdimensional bullshit you’ve been through, apparently there’s nothing scarier than Eddie Munson sitting at your kitchen table in complete darkness.

You’ve just come back from from the 7/11, plastic bag of goodies in hand, and you’re pretty sure the cashier thought you were a cocaine addict after one glance at your appearance.

“Took you long enough.”

You jump, a loud shriek filling the air as you drop the bag, fumbling for the light switch. You flick it on, revealing a very amused Eddie, resting his chin in his hands, “Damn, even Ozzy can’t hit that note.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in sheer annoyance, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” You shout, still trying to calm your racing heart.

He shrugs, “You know, most people are home and in bed at 12:30, not venturing to the gas station alone.”

You glare at him, “And most people don’t break into their best friend’s houses when they’re not home,” you run a hand through your greasy hair, “Jesus fuck Eddie, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Guess we’re even then.” He retorts, both his tone and expression becoming serious. You face twists in confusion, “The hell are you talking about?”

He gives you a look, completely unamused, “Oh I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you haven’t bothered to answer the phone or show up to school in two weeks?”

“That’s not fair! The school told me to take that first week off and-”

“Sit down.”

You do with an annoyed huff, promptly shutting your mouth as you take a seat beside him. You refuse to look at him though, eyes locked on the twiddling of your thumbs as he stares at you expectantly. After half a minute of silence, Eddie finally clears his throat.

“Steve stopped by yesterday, yeah?” He watches you carefully, noticing how your shoulders tense at the mention of your boyfriend, ex boyfriend? Nobody’s really sure anymore, but regardless, your resolve doesn’t slip.

“Hear that through the grapevine did ya?” You mumble, finally looking up at him as you set your chin in your hand, elbow resting on the counter. He hums, mirroring your action, “Among other things.”

You squirm in your seat, feeling slightly intimidated underneath his gaze. And the worst part is, you could take a good guess at what he must be thinking right about now. Not only have you known Eddie for years, but he’s got that look in his eyes. The one you had seen in Hopper’s, in Max, El, and Robin’s. Hell you even recognized it in Ms. Kelley’s eyes two weeks ago.

It’s the same look that Steve’s consistently given you since he discovered you in your bed three months ago, and you know it all too well at this point.

You clear your throat, voice practically dripping with sarcasm, “Oh really? Do tell.”

The ghost of a smirk dances over his lips at your response, and he doesn’t hesitate to let the words roll off his tongue, counting on his fingers, “Let’s see, you’re severely depressed, you’re ignoring everyone, you’ve hardly left your house in almost two weeks, you’re fighting with your boyfriend-”

“Okay stop it- I wasn’t fucking serious!” You cut him off frantically, as if he didn’t know that already, “And Steve and I aren’t fighting, we’re just-”

“Not talking?” He finishes, and you hesitate for a moment before nodding, but he shakes his head at you, “See I don’t buy that. Cause he came over here yesterday to talk, and you ignored him. Just like you’ve been ignoring everyone else.” His tone shifts, bordering the line of accusatory.

As true as his statement is, you can’t help but flinch, hurt filling you as you look back down in shame, “That’s not fair Eddie…” you murmur, sniffling.

“Course it is. Everyone’s trying to reach out to you, and you’ve done nothing but push us away.” He’s being cruel now, sounding genuinely upset with you. You shake your head, standing up from your stool and making your way towards the living room that had become your makeshift bedroom over the last few weeks, “I’m not fucking listening to this.”

He follows you though, right on your tail as his words spew out, “Yes you are. You’ve got everyone worried sick. You don’t get to just run away from it.” You try to make yourself smaller, wishing you could just disappear.

“I-I just can’t okay? I can’t see anyone. It’s too hard-”

“You can’t or won’t?” He cuts you off, face showing nothing but disapproval, “See, Steve told me-”

You turn on your heel, finally snapping.

“I don’t care what Steve told you! Steve shouldn’t have opened his mouth in the first place!”

Eddie stops in his tracks, eyes widening at your outburst.

“I-I was fine! I had it under control! And now everybody knows that I’m a total fucking wreck! It’s not a secret anymore that I-I can’t even force myself to brush my teeth or shower or clean up; that I’m disgusting and can’t find the energy to even take care of myself! They know everything, and I had no say in it!” He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off again.

“And that look- that stupid look you’re giving me! Everyone just keeps showing up at my house as if I’m a fucking charity case, looking at me like- like I’m some kind of kicked puppy! And you all keep telling me over and over again that you, ‘Just want to help!’ But I don’t want help! I don’t want help from you or anyone else!”

He’s studying you now, eyeing you up and down carefully, “And why is that?” He asks, gently urging you to continue.

“Because-” you pause for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as you try to grasp your own reasoning behind your reluctance for their aid.

Your voice softens, “Because if I accept it then you’ll all figure out just how bad it really is, and you’ll hate me.”

You pause for a moment, taking a shaky breath as you wipe a fallen tear from your cheek, “You’ll see the worst parts of me, and then you’ll leave, and I don’t think I can fucking take it.”

More tears start to slip down your cheeks, and your bottom lip wobbles as words continue to spew out from your mouth.

“So I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry that I’m scaring you, and the kids, and everyone else, and I’m sorry that I didn’t fucking open the door to Steve yesterday. I know that everything’s he’s done was to try and help me because he’s scared, but that’s the problem Eddie! He’s scared!” Your hands begin to tremble.

“Every single day for the last three months he’s been scared of me, of what could happen to me. And-and now that I’ve gotten so bad I…I can’t face him. I can’t bare to see the look on his face when he realizes he’s been dating a fucking abomination okay? I’m sorry.”

Your chest is heaving, as your spiel comes to an end, and it takes a moment for everything you just said to hit you. You half expect Eddie to say nothing, to shake his head in pure disgust and walk out. But he doesn’t. He just stares at you for a moment as a shit eating grin slowly makes its way onto his face, “Was that so hard?”

Your eyebrows furrow, teary eyes scrunching in confusion, “What?”

“I’ve known you a long time sweetheart,” He takes a step towards you, “And I also know that you have a habit of not quite communicating what your feeling, until you feel the need to defend yourself.”

You blink at him as you piece together his words, sniffling, “You were being an asshole… to figure out what’s wrong?”

He grimaces, “Well when you put it that way it makes me sound like a dick.” You stare at him unimpressed as you wait for his answer, and he sighs, “Yeah, no that’s… that’s pretty much what I was doing.”

You stand there in utter disbelief for a moment, opening your mouth to shout at him, but he cuts you off instead.

“Before you yell at me,” he quickly lifts his hands in surrender, “You’re forgetting that you’ve done the same thing to me a thousand times.” He gives you a pointed look and your shoulders drop in annoyance. He’s right, you definitely have. More than once. Neither of you happen to be good at dealing with your issues, which makes you a slightly dangerous pair as best friends.

You should technically be angry, but you can’t stop the disbelieving grin that overtakes your face as you reach for your pillow that rests on the couch.

“You’re such an asshole!” You shriek, hitting him with it over and over again, and he lets out a sound close to a squawk, trying to dodge your attacks.

“Hey! Cut it out!” He snatches the pillow from you, holding it above your head, “Jesus, you trying to kill me?”

“If I did you’d deserve it,” you grumble, giving his chest a gentle shove before plopping yourself down onto the couch, rubbing the fallen tears from your cheeks. He drops right down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You’re surprised you didn’t see this coming; not even just his ploy to get the truth out of you, but just him showing up in general. The two of you have been practically tied at the hip since you were middle schoolers, of course he was going to pop in and check on you after two weeks of radio silence.

Maybe if your mind had been occupied with less self deprecative thoughts you could have potentially predicted it, but it seems as though you set yourself up for failure once again.

You can’t help but groan, leaning forward with you head in your hands, “What the hell do I do Eds?”

A breathy chuckle escapes his lips as he gently rubs your back, “I have a couple ideas.” You turn to face him, peeking up through your fingers in confusion.

“Such as?” You ask, muffled.

He bites back a grin as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table in front of him, “Well, you could continue doing whatever it is you’re doing, until Hopper comes and physically drags you back to school. And then you’ll have to face everyone against your will.”

You groan, visibly disgusted at the idea of every one of your friends seeing what you’ve turned you into.

“And there’s always the fact that your aunt will inevitably come home, find you, completely flip out, and check you into the hospital.”

“I think you’ve made your point-” you flinch knowing he’s right.

“Or maybe Ms. Kelley will call for another wellness check, and a deputy’ll show up at your door.”

“Why do you always-”

“Or you could call him.”

The silence that follows is almost sickening, and your body tenses. Call him? You can’t call him. How could you expect him to even talk to you after everything that’s happened? You start to shake your head, but Eddie’s quick to cut you off, “Yes, and that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.”

You let out a frustrated huff, running your hand through your greasy hair, “I can’t call him. He probably hates me at this point.”

A laugh bursts deep from his chest, and he folds over, shoulders shaking. You watch in a mix of awe and confusion as he tries to catch his breath. Finally he turns to you, and reaches to hold your face in his hands, eyes still crinkling in amusement.

He sighs, “How can someone so smart be so stupid at the same time?” You pout, and his grin only widens.

You open your mouth with some sort of half-assed retort, but he cuts you off,

“Call him.” He stands, shrugging his jacket on.

“Eddie-”

He ruffles your hair, kissing the top of your head before making his way to the front door, “Call him,” he points the van key in your direction, “Or I’ll go get him myself.”

The door shuts behind him, leaving your house completely silent once again. You sit for a moment, reaching for the TV remote, but your hand hovers over it. Eddie’s words are ringing in your ears like the incessant pressing of a doorbell.

You think of Robin, jamming the tiny buzzer over and over again to make sure you were doing alright.

You think of Max and El, who tried so desperately to pull you from your slump, and Nancy, who’d sent them your way in the first place.

Hopper and Joyce, occasionally leaving meals at your front door over the past week and a half.

The boys, who’d been calling your phone nonstop to make sure you’re still alive, despite you never answering.

Eddie, showing up without warning to knock some sense into you.

And Steve. Poor Steve, showing up at your door all disheveled, just wanting to speak to you.

Letting out yet another sigh, your hand drops to your knee, and you push yourself up off the couch, making your way towards the phone.

Your hand shakes as you pull it off the wall, and you press the numbers in an order you’ve long since memorized.

You place the phone to your ear, and take a deep breath.

————

The phone gives at least four rings before Steve’s groggily getting up out of bed to answer it.

He’s cursing whoever the hell decided to wake him when he picks up the phone, “Harrington residence,” he yawns.

The other line is silent.

“Helllooo?” He huffs out.

There’s some shuffling on the other end.

“Look Dustin, I’m really not in the mood for whatever you’re-”

He’s cut off, “Steve?”

And he freezes. He hasn’t heard your voice in almost 3 weeks, but he recognizes it all the same.

“A-are you there?” You ask, after a moment of silence.

Steve clears his throat, “Uh- y-yeah, yeah I am I-….” He pauses for a moment,

OMG THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED YET HOW DO I FIX THIS AFSJSBSKAVAU

0 notes

chameleon-madrigal · 2 years

Note

hello! may i request a Camilo x F!Reader?

ever since childhood, reader is super shy and quiet towards people because she's afraid of what others would think of her but then she meets Camilo, who was the exact opposite of the reader. noticing this personality of her, he quickly became friends with her as he slowly took her out of her shell. years pass by and they are now engaged. reader thanks Camilo in their wedding ceremony for the woman she had become if it were not for him.

pls feel free to ignore this if u refuse! :D thank u !!

XIV | Cuentos de Camilo

(Stories of Camilo)

Title: Wedding Bells are ringing

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Camilo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Aged up Characters, emotional i had tissues for this!!

Summary: Childhood bestfriends to lovers to married life. They say you glow differently and happy when you are with the person you love the most and accepts you. Its one in a million chance you'll find a perfect and righteous man, the heavens must love you enough to make you lucky and have Camilo by your side.

He/him pronouns for Camilo

She/her pronouns for Reader

Note: Sorry this way took toooo long to post huhu I was so busy with school, wanna cry so bad. But this is the most cutest ever huhu imagining Camilo waiting for you while you walk on the aisle GOSHSKXNJS. Sorry took too long, I cant stop crying while making this which was so hard not to :(( Hope you like it, thank you for this enjoy <3

MASTERLIST

This was the day, you are finally marrying the man who has been with you all throughout the years. He witnessed everything about you, from your tears, your smiles, your laugh and everything in your life, he was there.

The church bells started ringing as the door opened as you smiled through your Mantilla. As the music started as your groom, Camilo started singing to serenade you to mark the beginning of the wedding procession.

I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

He sang perfectly as he slowly went his way towards you. As you stopped your tears from falling through your eyes. You saw how Señor Félix is having a hard time, calming his wife as a raincloud starting to appear. As you closed your eyes remembering the first time you met.

Flashback

It was the gift ceremony of the 4th grandkid of the Familia Madrigal. The first grandson of Abuela from her daughter, Pepa. The beautiful music blasted throughout the whole Casita, as foods and drinks were being served. Everyone was so happy, they are dancing, talking. You are just getting some arepas when you noticed you loose sight of your Mamá. You started looking for her, but the amount of people getting on your way made it more difficult to squeeze in your small body.

You went downstairs hoping to find her, but still no signs of your Mamá. You aren't the type to talk to people, you are quiet. Being a kid in this world you get scared a lot, especially the mindset of people on what they would think about you. You were about to cry when someone tapped your shoulder. You turned to look at the person and noticed it was the shapeshifter madrigal, who got his gift earlier an hour.

"Hola, what're you doing here downstairs?" He asked as you are having a battle in your mind to speak or not. But no words are coming and you are too shy to even face him, as you look everywhere not him.

"I see, you're kinda shy. Don't worry I know how to handle you!" He said cheerfully, as you mentally take not how much confidence this kid has despite of being a 5 year old.

"Come on, lets go upstairs! I'll show you every single corner of my room!!" He said dragging you upstairs, you wanted to stop him by too nervous to say so. I mean having a Madrigal with you who is the center of attention at this moment for his ceremony gift, and that is willing to spend the celebration with you had got you feeling mixed emotions.

"Mi pequeño, where have you been? Everyone's looking for you to congratulate you!" Pepa said creating a small cloud abover her head as you saw Señor Félix getting rid of it. Camilo groaned as you noticed you two are still holding each other's hands.

"Mamí, its tiring to face all these people. I wanna play" Camilo pouted as he let go of your hand when his Mamí held him up and kissed his nose.

"Don't pretend you don't like the spotlight, hermanito" His sister said as camilo stucked his tongue out at her.

"Hey, I see you brought a cute little amiga here! What's your name?" Félix asked as you got shy by the attention of Camilo's family alone.

"I'm Y/N" You said coming up as a whisper, Félix ruffled your hair as Pepa put Camilo down to gently squish your cheeks.

"Okay, run along you two and enjoy! Camilo don't do anything stupid" Pepa warned camilo as he just whinded but still nod anyways.

He continued showing you around his big massive room, as you let him do the talking. Not that he mind, as you completly forgot you were finding your Mamá.

"Your room is pretty nice. I love all the mirrors" You finally said to him that night, he dramatically held his chest acting shock as you look at him confused.

"You're talking!! ahhh finally!!" He said as you chuckled the first time with someone who is not close to you. People take years to get you out of your shell and open up to them, but you met Camilo like minutes ago and he just did that. Which made you comfortable knowing how he made you feel safe and fine.

"I am a human, Camilo. I do talk...im just shy" You said looking down whispering the last words but he still heard it anyways.

He suddenly shapeshifted infront of you, as you get to see his magic upclose. You were shocked and amazed as you looked at yourself that staring at you.

"Lo siento, I thought im becoming a rat because of my small talks" He said as you nudged him, as he went back to his form as you looked at each other and started laughing.

"Why am I a rat? Out of all things really?"

"Idunno, the first thing that came to my mind was my 7-foot frame Tío Bruno's rats along his back" He said as he did a gesture with his hands, as you rolled your eyes.

"Your Mamá is literally much taller than your Tío, you sure he is 7 foot frame?"

"Hey, not my fault I saw him one night and like seriously he was so tall! I thought it was someone else, I got scared and when he called my name, everything fades to black" He said as he accompanied his story with gestures and all, which you find entertaining.

"You really are something"

"Ofcourse, I'm Camilo Madrigal" He smugly said as he continued his room tour for you.

~•~

All the townsfolk were going home, as you went back to where the Madrigals was. And noticed your Mamá talking to Abuela, you ran up to him and hugged her as she held you so tight.

"Mi hija, where have you been??? I was so worried" She said as she fixed your hair still helding you up.

"I was finding you too but.." You stopped talking as Señora Pepa suddenly spoke

"Lo siento, amiga. Camilo probably found her and dragged her along throughout his room" Pepa said and held Camilo up as he patted her son's head. Which Camilo giggled at as his sister started tickling him too.

"No worries, Im glad my daughter is safe. I guess we have to go now, thank you for tonight. And Camilo, congratulations on your gift!" Your Mamá said as the Madrigals waved back at the both of you. You smiled at Camilo and smiled shyly.

"See you tomorrow, amiga!!" He shouted as you and your Mamá went outside Casita.

"Surprised you made a friend, huh? And is one of the Madrigals" Your Mamá teased you and tickled your nose as you playfully whined.

"He's just a friend and he's not bad afterall" You said as your mother smiled at you.

End of Flashback...

He had a smile on his face, as you saw the visible tears in his eyes trying hard not to fall down on his cheeks.

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

He finally reached out his hand the moment he got closer to you. Which you gladlt accepted and clung unto his arms, as he still singing. You were looking at the audience flashing them a sweet smile. As Camilo looked at you, as you both remembered the time the moment you two realized you love each other and his confession.

Flashback...

Years passed, not only you and Camilo became bestfriends but you also got close with the other Madrigals. Especially Señora Pepa who treats you like her daughter also.

You are currently hanging out in Camilo's room as you watch him tries a set of different ruanas. You looked at him in full admiration as he looks good in every single piece of clothing. And yes, you are inlove with your childhood bestfriend.

"Ahh perfecto!" He said as he turned to look at you, giving you a full look on his clothes.

"Isn't that just the same ruana you always were?"

"The color yes, but look—" He got closer to you as he showed some prints visible in his ruana. You got flustered at how close he was to you as you tried focusing your mind. "—the chameleon is much more visible and there's a musical symbols, you know of how much a theatre kid, I am" He said as he did a dramatic pose as you laughed at him.

"Its actually nice, Mirabel did a good job"

"I know which is the reason why she would never be pranked by me since she always give me gifts! I mean I am everyone's favorite, am I right?" He smugly look at you, which earned him a smack on his head as you went up to him and fixed his collar. Not minding the fact that one push of someone would lead you two kissing of how close you two were.

"You're not a favorite. You just like stealing spotlights" You said feeling contented at fixing his clothes right.

"Well, does that mean. I can be the center of your spotlight or maybe center of your heart?" He said, as for the years you got closer you noticed how he is a total flirt. Which is one of the reasons, why you feel confident around him, forgetting to be shy with someone else.

"Stop flirting!"

"I wasn't even!?! But I know you like it" You glared at him as he started running on his room with you chasing him.

~•~

It was dinner time, everything feels normal not until Abuela talked about something.

"Camilo, when are you going to ask out Y/N?"

Camilo literally choked on his arepas, as his Mamá suddenly panicked and gave him a water to drink. As clouds started to appear on her head, luckily it disappeared as soon as Camilo got okay.

"After Dolores and Mariano's wedding about weeks ago. I would like for you and Y/N to be next, since it seems like you both like each other"

"Why...me? I mean, Isabela or Luisa can be next.." He stuttered trying to find a way to escape the commotion.

"Primo, I am still trying to figure out my feelings for someone unlike you and Y/N, you both pretty much like each other" Isabela said a hint of teasing in her voice, as Camilo sulked at her.

"And besides whats even stopping you from confessing?" Luisa asked as Camilo got nervous at the thought of confessing and shapeshifted uncontrollably. He fixed his self before answering the question.

"I'm just scared what if she doesn't like me? Its so embarassing and I dont want to lose my friend"

"Trust me, sobrino. You and Y/N are a perfect couple" His tío bruno said as he gave him a thumbs up.

"Have you look us into your vision, Tío?"

"I don't know. You need to do it and take a risk to find out, hombrecito" Everyone keep on talking as Camilo got loss in his thoughts about you.

~•~

The next night, Camilo set up a beautiful starry night picnic for the both of you in the beautiful garden of Casita behind that Isabela grew.

"Woah, there sure is a lot of foods here Milo" You said taking a seat as he did too and awkwardly chuckled having a mental crisis right now.

"Ofcourse, I don't want mi hermosa dama to go hungry" He said trying to act cool as you chuckled at the nicknames he gives to you, which you won't deny the butterflies at your stomach.

"Tsk, you and your nicknames again" You scoffed eating some snacks, as you weirdly looked at him who just looks at you, not eating. Which was odd for the infamous Camilo Madrigal not taking a snack when he would fight for his life getting seconds.

"What? It suits you and I have the right to call you what I want"

"Ahuh, well deal with this. Just give me one nickname that I will let you call me"

He had a thought in hid mind but was cotemplating whether to say it or not. But like what his Tío said, take a risk or lose a chance.

"Hmm, I would like to call you...mi novia" He said noticing how you got flustered, stuttering at your thoughts.

Noticing the silent treatment, he sighed in defeat. Trying so hard not to feel upset.

"Y-you know what? Forget I said that, I mean I know you probably don't—" You cutted him off as you continued looking at the moon above you.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes it is" He said as you looked at him bewildered by his response as he miss the subcontext in your phrase. He looked back at you noticing your stares as he jolted up in his seat, realizing your words.

"WAIT SO YOU LOVE ME TOO?!"

"Don't shout! Poor Dolores" You said as he suddenly lifted you up in your seat causing you to squeeled in overwhelming happiness. He gently put you down and cupped your face.

"Can I?" You melted at his actions, getting your consent for you to kiss as you nod at him. He leaned closer as your lips touched, kissing passionately aa you both pulled away from each other. Noticing the love that is in each other's eyes.

End of Flashback...

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

He gently spuns you around, as you chuckled at how extra he would alway be. You are now closer in the altar as you looked at your family and his, noticing how proud they are.

Flashback...

Years had passed on your dating life, and its going on pretty well. They were fights through your relationship but thats how you two grow by fixing it by the end of the day.

By this time you both are now in your 20s. Camilo has been ready for this time to come, heck, he was even ready the moment you two shared your first kiss after confessing with each other.

Camilo goes back and forth in his room, repeatedly practicing his words and even making sure which knee he would knelt to make it look perfect. Dolores could just sigh, getting tired of hearing her hermano's voice for hours.

Everyone knows how this is a big day for him, and ofcourse its normal to be nervous and to lose your mind. Félix decided to see his son, knocking on the door as he opened it noticing to see his son a mess. A nervous wrecking mess.

"Can I interrupt you for a moment?" His Papá asked and took a sit in his bed as he patted it, indicating for Camilo to sit down and relax.

"You seem so bothered and lost, are you alright, Milo?" Félix said as he put a hand on his son's back caressing it gently as Camilo sighed.

"I'm scared, papá. What if she's not ready? What if I messed up? What if—"

"Camilo listen to me" Félix cutted him off as he turned his son's head to look at him.

"Relax, okay? You being like this will get you nowhere. The more you think about it, the more it will happen. Just do it naturally"

"C-can you tell me again the story of how you proposed to Mamí?" Camilo said looking at his father with hopeful eyes, as Félix smiled knowing how Camilo always love this story when he was a child and up until now.

"Alright then. To say everything I planned didn't really went well. I planned for a boquet but I only got her one rose. I planned for some balloons and it didn't end well. I planned to cook her some foods but I was panicking and end up burning some. I planned to spend the whole day with her but didn't had the time to since she was busy helping in town under the orders of your Abuela. I planned a picnic watching the sunset but it the sun had settled down and still nothing happened. I planned on proposing on a beautiful hill but ofcourse, that didn't happened. Night had come your Mamí was tired but still manage to create a small rainbow in her head as soon as she saw me. And with that I know that I still have one last thing that I planned that I can make it happen. I asked her to hangout on the rooftop, we talked and shared laughs and smiles. I was nervous, but one thing im sure is that im ready to spend the rest of my life with your mom. I stood up from my seat, as she did too thinking we are going down already. But the moment I said the words I love you to her, I knelt on one knee and showed her the ring and said the words from my heart. And those words weren't even the one I practiced, its just come out in me naturally." His Papá said as Camilo said feeling relaxed as he saw the smile in his dad while talking.

"Gracias, Papá" Camilo said and hugged Félix tight as he returned the hug.

"No hay problema, mi hijo ahora adulto"

~•~

Camilo just planned a usual hangout, luckily for him everything went so well. You are both currently on the top of the rooftop, where his Mamí and Papá got engaged too. You both watched the moon as Camilo knows how you are fascinated by the moon.

"The flowers were great and these arepas are so delicious! I love your cooking, amor. thank you" You said as he chuckled.

"You already thanked me a hundred times for today. Should I switch that thank you for a kiss?" He teased as he smirked at you leaning in, as you playfully pushed his face away from you.

"Try harder, babe" You teased back as he scoffed.

"You know what I really love about the moon?"

"Uh, because its beautiful?"

"Other than that. It is surrounded by darkness but look at how it shines its like the only you see through the night" He smiled at you as you stood up and created a heart form on your hands to the moon. Camilo took the opportunity to go behind you, kneeling down and securing the ring in his pocket.

"You're like the moon in me, Milo. You made me glow and shine—" You turned to look at him, noticing he isn't at your side. You turned around as you put a hand on your mouth completely shocked as tears suddenly flowed down your eyes.

"Mi primera y única chica, the only girl I love to spend my life with being my wife and the mother of my future children. I will forever be with you and always gonna make you shine because you deserve to. You are worthy, Y/N. And I hope you would make me the happiest man alive. I have so much to say but what matters it that I love you and will you marry me?" He said getting nervous at your answer would be. You wanted to say something but you are a crying mess, so you nod at him as he cheerfully stood up careful not to let you both fall into Casita. He put the ring on your hand as he hugged you tight, feeling his tears of joy touched your cheeks. He kissed you sweetly aa you both looked at each other admiring the ring he got you. As you are now ready to open a new chapter of your life.

"Ahh im a crying mess, its your fault" You joked at him as he wiped the remaining tears on your eyes and kissed it.

"Mi querida, you look perfect tonight"

~•~

You both went down to the roof as everyone suddenly hugged you and congratulated you both. You and Camilo got soaked wet due to Señora Pepa's raincloud but you didn't mind it as you were so happy as of the moment.

"YOU ARE NOW GOING TO BE MY LA NUERA!!" She shouted feeling happy as Camilo could just look at you two with adoration.

End of Flashback...

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

The music stopped as you reached the the priest as the ceremony started. The ceremony went smoothly until its time for you two to say your vows to each other. Camilo took a deep breath at first, before looking at you and showed you his genuine smile.

"I remember the first time I met you, and I will only say this secret that no one knows not even mi hermana. I didn't know you were lost and was finding your mamá at the moment I found you. But I know for sure that throughout my gift ceremony, I got my eyes for my door ofcourse but I also got an eye for you. And yes, I was so young but you already caught my eye. Yes, you were shy I noticed those things in you before I got my gift ceremony. You might wonder how a shy girl practically just staying on the corner being quiet, caught my eye. Especially a someone like me, but what really is in you? I'd say that you're unique, one of a kind person. You do nothing but I started seeing you. You keep quiet, but I started talking to you. For all the years, my feelings just grew each day we are together. I cannot imagine the moment I lose a chance confessing to you and didn't take the risk. But look at where we now, saying our promises with each other, going to start another new chapter of our lives—" Camilo looked up as tears filled his eyes, as he saw a tear left your eyes he started to cry too but manages to control himself "— my Y/N, I am so lucky to have you. I am always scared to reveal my true emotions because I thought that doesn't matter cause I am Camilo Madrigal. An entertainer, a jokester, everyone knows me for being happy and I should stay that way even though I want a time where I want someone to show the side of me crying and in pain, I want to let it out. And you just happened to be there, and you accepted and loved me even more than just who I am. True love exist from the right person. And that person is infront of me—" He took the ring and slid it into your ring finger as he kissed it before saying his last vow "—As your husband, I promise to be your armor in times of danger and in doubt. I'll be your strength when you are weak. I'll be everything you need. I will never find someone other than you, because no one can be like you. I, Camilo Madrigal, will always be your moon and will love you forever and always"

"When I first met you, we were so young back then. Still confused about what life is and who we are. To be honest, the moment we became friends you showed me new things and new opportunities that I should try which changed something in me. For years, I was trying to find the answers on why am I shy to talk to people or why cant I just normally start a conversation with someone. I was confused, in doubt, and felt alone about who I really was. But I am more than thankful how you become part of my life. We were just bestfriend at that time but you gave me reason and motivation to find out who I really am. I was on a journey of finding myself and I was already on it. But then another thought comes to into my mind, because after years I suddenly realized that I am inlove with you. I was blinded by something that took me long enough to realize im inlove with my bestfriend. I am glad you confessed because if I did the first move, it will literally take forever. The moment we started dating, my family and yours would tell me how I looked different and much more carefree. Camilo, because of you I found happiness, I realized that I need to embrace myself not because I feel low on my self esteem but because of you. People glow differently when with the right person and for me, that is you. I changed myself for a better me and I love how you are a part of it. Mi amor, I cant express how lucky I am to have you in my life. For all those years, you were there for me. You know my flaws yet you still love me despite all of it. I am lucky to have someone who accepts me for who I am, and doesnt change me for what you wanted for a girl but instead you changed me for what I wanted to be—" Camilo wiped the tears under your Mantilla, as you caressed his hands that is on your cheeks. You held out his hand and hold the diamond ring slowly getting it in his ring finger as you are saying your last vow. "—As your wife, I promise to be the faithful to you. And would always make you happy. I will be there the moment you wake up, the moment you eat, the moment you're tired, the moment you're crazy, the moment you're upset, the moment you sleep, literally every moment in your life. I will be here for you, for better or worse. You will always be my moon, that shines brighter than the real moon. I, Y/N L/N and now Y/N Madrigal will always be the stars around you and will always love you forever and always"

"You may now kiss the bride" The priest said as he carefully raised your Mantilla, finally getting a clear glimpse of your face. As he held your hands and put it in his shoulders, smiling as he held you closer pulling you by the waist and kissed you passionately.

Everyone cheered you and clapped but the moment you pulled away from each other. You can only see him and him only. Your husband, Camilo Madrigal.

248 notes · View notes

plant-flwrs · 4 years

Text

heart of glass // fred weasley

masterlist!

request (from @bitchywhisperswizard <3): Hi! I absolutely LOVE your writing! Could I maybe request where Fred Weasley breaks up with reader before the war and thinks she died? Only to find her a year later in the muggle world like a celebrity performer? I understand if it doesn't make sense. Thank you!

a/n: thank u for the request!! i refuse to believe fred d*ed, but i am a sucker for fred lives au’s. also went a little grunge w this just because i love those pictures of metalhead james and oliver :) (i listened to miley cyrus’s new cover of heart of glass while i wrote this so i just called it that)

summary: Fred broke up with you just before the war, and when he couldn’t find you after the battle cleared he thought you died. You’re alive and well, living as a celebrity among the muggle world. One night reunites you two, and neither of you can deny the feelings that spark.

(2.5k)

------

Clutching the white sink beneath your fingers, you barely recognized the person looking back at you in the mirror. Your eyes were sunken and swollen, your lips puffed and red. Your cheeks were hollowed, casting shadows into your face. You lifted a shaky hand, pushing your hair out of your face and revealing a scar on your temple.

You had barely made it out of the war, and once you did, you had no intentions on going back.

You made a new life in the muggle world, and eventually you were able to do what you had always wanted to do: perform.

It was about ten minutes before you were due in stage, and your nerves had stopped buzzing a long time ago. You dipped a finger into some black eyeshadow, spreading it haphazardly across your eyes. You looked dead, and it showed what you felt like on the inside.

Not a day passed in which Fred Weasley hadn’t thought of you. Not a day passed in which guilt hadn’t plagued his heart and mind. Every day, for just over a year, the image of tears streaming down your face as he broke up with you was glue to the inside of his eyelids.

George tried to understand but he could never understand the pain. He tried to help his brother when he could.

“Freddie!” George called to him from across the store, heaving in a huge box.

“Yeah?” Fred replied from behind the counter, pushing heavy buttons on the loud till.

“Look at this,” George quickly removed a hand from under the box, shifting his weight. He handed Fred a flier he found posted in the side of the shop.

It was a black flier, advertising some muggle bar in London. It looked like the sort of crowd the brothers gravitated towards some odd five years ago. Skulls and grunge symbols littered the page, and Fred found himself smiling fondly at it.

“Want to go?’ George asked, setting down the box in its right place, starting to unload the new shipment of chocolate wands.

“Aren’t we a little too old for this, George?” Fred said with a sad smile.

In that moment, George had the feeling he didn’t recognize his brother. His own face, but tormented with worry, sadness, and the unfriendly effects of time. George furrowed his brow, and tried to continue.

“No! It’ll be fun,” George reassured, slapping a hand on his brother’s back.

This was how Fred found himself clung to the bar all night, nursing a beer in his hand. He didn’t like muggle alcohol as much, but he supposed it would do.

The bar was in the back of the crowded club, but it barely had any people by it. Everyone had rushed to the front of a stage, the entire room filled with enthusiastic screams. George hovered near the back of the crowd, where Fred could still see him, swinging back and forth to the music they played over the speaker.

Fred and George had liked going to concerts after the war. The flashing lights and loud noises were difficult at first, very difficult, but it was one of the things that helped them recover.

Fred looked around over the top of his drink, surveying the crowd. It was mostly made up of people who looked like him five years ago, people who hadn’t been through a war, or lost their ex-girlfriend in that war. People who didn’t feel like crying every second of every day. The crowd didn’t look like you or Fred.

Someone knocked on your door, their words muffled by the ringing in your ears. You shook your head, letting your hair fall naturally in it’s place over your scar. You pulled up the high boots you wore, and fixed the sheer tights that dove into them. Pulling the top of your tank top to cover your chest some more, you felt the cold air hit your slightly exposed stomach. You stood off to the right, backstage, waiting as people poked and prodded at you, fixing wires and handing you things to hold that they would eventually take back from you.

The nerves still didn’t come, but you hadn’t expected them to. Nothing made you nervous anymore, nothing made you feel anything, really.

Someone held the curtain open for you, and at the slightest movement the crowd roared. Fred turned his gaze towards the stage, and George moved forward in the crowd.

You looked out into the sea of people, and you could make out a few faces in the front. You had requested dulled lights for all of your shows, unable to handle the bright lights that often came with performing. A purple light hovered above you, illuminating you with the cool hue.

You cast a smirk out into the audience, moving to your mark at the center of the stage. Your band filed in behind you, and you tugged at the cord for the microphone, giving yourself some slack. The crowd was still just as loud as when you came out, and you started your first song.

You couldn’t hear anything but your own voice ringing through your head, booming through the earpiece tucked behind your hair.

From the bar, Fred found his glass shattered on the floor beneath him. It hadn’t even made a sound over your powerful voice coming from what felt like every angle. He couldn’t move, his eyes just locked on your almost unrecognizable face. Even though you looked like him, tired and full of regrets, eyes sunken and cheeks hollowed, he would recognize you and your voice from anywhere.

He had heard you sing almost everyday since he met you. You hummed next to him in class, you chorused obnoxiously in the common room, and you sang to him softly while the two of you laid in bed.

Looking at you now, bent at the knees and almost squatting as you nearly screamed the chorus for what he could assume was your own song, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Everything washed through him, the guilt, the sadness, the worry, the pain.

George was next to him in a second, shaking him by his shoulders. A gleeful smile spread across his face and he just chanted: “She’s alive, she’s actually alive, Freddie!” over and over.

Fred couldn’t believe it, he had always wanted something like this to happen, to replay it all and make sure you hadn’t died, and now that he saw you living and breathing he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Fred ducked into the bathroom, splashing water over his face until he felt like himself again. He fixed his hair, regretting not getting a haircut earlier in the week like he had wanted to. You did always like his hair long, though. He looked down at his buttoned down shirt, the flowy sleeves rolled up halfway up his arms. He tucked it into his jeans, trying to smooth it out some.

George was waiting from him outside the door, biting his nails.

“She’s amazing, mate,” George said. Your voice echoed around the room, and still floated to their ears from the corner they had hidden away in.

“She always was,” Fred mumbled.

“I can’t believe it,” George said, his mouth agape and shaking his head in a disbelieving way.

“Do I look okay?” Fred asked his brother, holding his arms out a little.

George tugged at the sleeves, evening them out and making the rolls more neat.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling Fred with him.

The two sat and listened to you sing until Fred couldn’t take it anymore. The brothers left the venue, moving out onto the chilly London street. They walked around the back, where your crew had parked. They waited.

You finished your show, leaving the stage with the usual rush of adrenaline. You could never sit still inside after a show, and you rushed past your crew and out the back door. The cold air hit your skin, nipping at your sweat covered face and torso. You reached back inside, your hand finding a stool with a pack of cigarettes on them. You came back outside, fiddling with the package. You pulled one out and brought it to your lips, and realized you didn’t have a lighter. These were the moments you wished you still had your wand. It was always easier to smoke when you were a witch.

“Need a light?” someone spoke, coming from out of a shadow.

You immediately felt tears brimming your eyes, looking into the familiar brown eyes and flaming red hair.

“George?” you croaked, voice weak from the singing and the tears threatening to spill over.

George and you took steps towards each other, and he wrapped you in his arms. You cried into his chest, not really knowing why. You supposed you missed him, or maybe it was the fact that he looked strikingly like the boy who had broken your heart.

“Y/n,” another voice, a voice you would know always, called from behind him.

You shrunk from George hesitantly, wiping your eyes. You looked down at your hands, seeing them covered in smeared black makeup. You looked back at George’s shirt and saw a similar mark. You looked up at him apologetically, but he just beamed back at you, waving it off. You watched him pull his wand from his side, and with a simple movement, the stain was gone. You felt yourself crying harder.

You turned back to Fred, who had also started crying. The two of you lunged at each other, a mess of forceful limbs trying to wrap around the other.

“I thought you died,” Fred called out, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

You sobbed in response, your body shaking against Fred’s. He pulled your tighter, like he had regretted ever letting go.

You felt like you could never compose yourself, but you eventually did. Fred’s eyes were red and swollen, and you had wiped the tears off his cheeks. He did the same charm George had done to get the makeup off his shirt.

You led them inside, back into the venue. All of you sniffled as you walked together. You waved to security, telling them they were with you, and ignored your manager as you slipped into your greenroom.

“You were amazing up there,” George said, taking advantage of the full bar you had in the room.

You took the glass he had made for you, gulping down the harsh alcohol in one swig. George chuckled, ducking into the mini fridge and handing you a soda.

“So your a muggle now?” Fred croaked, his eyes locked on his glass.

“Turned in my wand after the war,” you answered, putting the soda on the table beside you because you couldn’t trust your shaking hands.

“We missed you,” George spoke, sitting next to you on the couch.

You forced a smile on your cracking lips, glancing at him.

“I thought you died,” Fred spoke, finally looking up at you.

Your eyes widened, mouth opening slightly.

“Couldn’t find you after,” George said, forcing himself to remember, “looked almost all night. Lifted every stone we could find.”

Your eyes drifted down, tears filling them again. You swallowed hard, hating yourself immediately for the pain you put them through. You couldn’t even compare it to the pain Fred put you through, because at least you knew he was alive.

“I left,” you mumbled, lip quivering a little, “Just after the dust settled. I flew home and packed everything I owned.”

Fred scoffed across form you, and both you and George’s head shot up to look at him.

“I thought you died,” he repeated, sounding harsh.

“ ‘M sorry,” you mumbled, tasting the warm and salty tears falling into your mouth.

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” George whispered from beside you, swallowing hard.

“I dunno,” you admitted, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, “I just had to leave. I didn’t think you would have wanted to see me.”

You spoke to Fred, referencing the harsh breakup a month before the war. He looked at you, hurt in his eyes.

“Of course I wanted to see you,” he said, sounding hurt that you could even think that.

“You broke it off with me, Fred, what was I supposed to think?”

“I only did that to keep you safe!” Fred yelled.

“Well it didn’t keep me safe! It just hurt more!” you shouted back, pulling your hair off your face and behind your ears in a stressful motion.

Fred looked at you, shocked. His eyes fell to your scar, and you covered it with your hair again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke, sounding regretful.

You nodded your head, looking at the ground.

“I’ve missed you, Y/n,” George spoke, his voice soft, “here.”

He slipped a card into your hand, and you looked down at it. It was a business card. Your mouth widened into a smile, and before you could stop yourself, you were laughing.

“Did George Weasley just give me a business card?”

George smiled back at you, chuckling with you.

You examined the card, reading the gold writing. ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George Weasley’. The card had an address on it.

“Visit the shop some time,” George said, standing, “I’ll meet you at home, Fred?”

Fred looked at George, furrowing his brow. George made a motion for Fred to sit, and Fred sighed. George hugged you and left you with Fred.

You two sat in silence, he nursed his whiskey and you picked at you fingers.

“You really were amazing up there,” Fred finally said, putting his glass on the table.

“Thank you,” you said sheepishly.

“I still love you, you know,” Fred said confidently, looking straight into your eyes.

Your lips parted, hearing the words you had wanted to hear for about a year, and you didn’t know what to say.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

Fred stood from his chair and moved over to you, sitting next to you. His hand found yours, and you sat together. Neither of you had felt anything like this in a long time. The numbness receded into you, allowing space for love and relief to fill you. Fred no longer felt the weight of guilt and worry, all that banished just by a glance at your face.

Your hand still shook in his, and he held it tightly until it stopped. He turned towards you, bringing a hand to your face. He pushed your hair off your face, looking at you scar.

“Is that from-” he trailed off, his thumb tracing the mark.

You nodded, flicking your eyes away from his. He snaked it hand behind your neck, and pulled your face close to his. His lips connected to your scar, and he held you there for a moment. You closed your eyes, melting into his touch.

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again,” he mumbled into your face.

“Me neither,” you whispered back.

#fred weasley #fred weasley au #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasely fic #fred #weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley grunge #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #harry potter

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phdmama · 2 years

Note

ok the ask game you just reblogged is so cute i had to send you some 🥺 🥺

bicycle, bells, eyebags, fallen log

oh my gosh, thank you anon!! :-D I don't think I've seen it going around before!

okay!

bicycle: what are you talented at?

well, dang, just leap in with the tough ones ha ha. Let's see. I think I'm... a good musician and I have a decent singing voice. I don't know if I am a talented writer per se, but I think I do okay with it sometimes (that's me trying really hard not to be self-deprecating!). I'm pretty good at math and statistics.

Just answered bells here!

eyebags: what do you think makes a person attractive?

Kindness and humor, absolutely. I like people with integrity and people who have stuff that they're super passionate about! I pretty much fell in love with my husband on our second date when we spent a couple of hours talking about philosophy like the GIANT NERDS we are.

In terms of like, physical stuff, my tastes are very broad, especially as I've gotten older. Self-confidence and an easy smile are pretty devestatingly sexy, honestly.

fallen log: something you’ve gotten over that you never thought you would

I'm gonna go ahead and put this under a cut because I'll be talking about some darker/hard topics (mental disorders, trauma, violence) so feel free to skip it if you want to!

So I have a pretty profound and difficult history of a whole bunch of psychiatric problems that can be probably be summed up as Complex PTSD stemming both from big-T trauma in my childhood coupled with some ways that my parents... made some mistakes, let's say. And I collected more trauma along the way, as one does.

It manifested in suicidal depression, alcohol abuse, self-harm from an early age, a life-threatening eating disorder, putting myself into terrible and unsafe situations and relationships, including a man who was regularly very very violent with me... I could go on and on, but I think you get the point.

I never thought I'd survive college. I never thought I'd recover from my ED. Or stop self-harming. Or come through my depression. And I did. I survived. Now, the depression stuff is never going to be gone, that's just brain chemistry at this point, but I'm so much better at managing it.

I don't self-harm anymore. Ever. I don't even want to. I sometimes struggle with body/food stuff but I do not starve myself and I do not purge, ever. And I don't want to. I have a life that's really big and full and messy and I live it. I love it. I have a family, a partner who loves me, friends who are so amazing and I'm so so lucky to have them.

So I guess essentially, I survived it all despite my own best efforts not to at times, and even the horrific trauma just... isn't a huge part of my day to day life. My life is really big and full and yeah, that's absolutely a piece of it, but I'm so thankful to be here, I try every single day to focus on my gratitude and my blessings because my life is really bountiful! If you'd told me in my early-mid twenties that I'd be here, able to live like this, I never ever would have believed you.

That's probably waaaay more info than you wanted ha ha! xox

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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years

Note

Happy one month anniversary! Edmund Pevensie x reader soulmate au? :D

Triangles | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Soulmate Blurb

Warnings: Math lol

Time/Era: Modern AU/College

Word Count: 300

Summary: Y/N and her soulmate, Edmund, can communicate with thoughts. Edmund happens to have taken this class before and you really need help with this test right now.

Request: Happy one month anniversary! Edmund Pevensie x reader soulmate au? :D

A/N: Thank you! First one of the day and it’s my favorite boy! Hell yeah! Enjoy! Click here to read about my monthiversary celebration and how to participate!

masterlist | edmund playlist | read on ao3

Edmund Y/N thought in a panic. Do you remember anything about triangles?

Y/N sat in her 8 am math lecture (which was the worst decision in her life) taking her midterm. It was geometry, debatably the worst kind of math in the world, and she didn’t have any studying under her belt. Edmund was usually awake at this time, so she prayed he didn’t choose to sleep in.

Triangles? What are you trying to do? He responded after a few seconds. Y/N let out a relieved sigh, which didn’t go unnoticed by those around her.

Tangent specifically, I didn’t study this!

You didn’t study anything, love. Y/N’s lips pursed at his cheeky tone. Even inside her head, he was so sarcastic and a bit cocky. Y/N loved it usually but in the middle of her math term where she only had 15 minutes left? Who had the time for cocky soulmates? Not Y/N, that’s for sure.

What are the values?

15 centimeters and x centimeters. Theta is opposite of x.

Come on, Y/N, you could do that in your sleep! I believe in you, truly.

Y/N’s palms began to clam up as she looked at the clock. She now only had 13 minutes left.

This isn’t funny, Ed! Help me!

Cheating is against school code, Y/N! Of course, he was going to be difficult. Why wouldn’t he be?

Does it look like I care?

I can’t see you. Y/N was so close to just skipping the question.

Fine, forget it! I’ll fail!

Theta is 0.4, you big baby. Y/N bubbled in the question quickly and skimmed over the next question.

Ed? Y/N’s tone was soft and hesitant.

Yes, darling? Edmund’s amused tone and laugh filled her brain. This made the girl smile despite her stress.

Do you remember anything about circles?

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Paint the Warmth of the Sky - SEUNGMIN

We’re at the end! Thank you to all those who stayed for the ride, and I hope you look forward to the drabble game I’ll be hosting soon!

The title includes a pun on Seungmin’s English name (Sky)!! I’m very proud of myself for this :) dedicated to @wingkkun because Mai... this may not be a lot of -in your face- Seungmin hot agenda, but you will find that I was inspired by it. I hope this is a suitable (very late) birthday present :D

(made the last two bingos with this: witches/sweater weather/seasonal coffee, sweater weathe/apple picking/costumes!)

Unbeleafable prompt: sweater weather

Pairing: Seungmin x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, university!au

Triggers: some cursing, slightly (very slightly) suggestive

Word Count: 1.6k

One morning, you tell Seungmin the reasons for your love.

Unbeleafable Masterlist | Stray Kids Drabbles Masterlist

Normally, Seungmin’s the first one in the kitchen at the crack of dawn, pattering around with bare feet on the cold floor as he makes a cup of coffee to start the morning. But today, you wake up first, fully wrapped in your boyfriend’s toasty arms.

A small, bleary smile involuntarily lifts the corners of your mouth as you stare at Seungmin’s peaceful face, eyes fluttered shut, his chest rising slightly as he huffs soft breaths between his lips. Your hand rises to softly stroke his hair and he unconsciously shuffles into your touch, leaning into the warmth even though he’s literally radiating heat from his bare chest. Even the necklace sitting around his throat is warm. For a moment, you relax once again, closing your eyes and indulging in the comfort of the bed just a bit longer.

But morning light is already beginning to seep through the edges of the bedroom curtains, so you make the difficult decision to extract your body from Seungmin’s clingy arms. He murmurs a bit in his sleep but thankfully doesn’t wake up as you climb off the mattress, press a quick kiss to his forehead, and slip into the bathroom.

He must’ve been really tired last night, you muse, brushing your teeth. You know he spent a long time at the library, fixing up last errors on his law paper before submitting, and he also had a few classes and a vocal lesson earlier in the day. He didn’t look too drowsy when he got home, but exhaustion has a way of creeping up on its victims and striking when it’s late.

Poking your head back into the bedroom, you see that he’s still fast asleep, cocooned under the warm blankets. It’s so fucking cute.

Well, he doesn’t have much on his schedule today. He can sleep a bit longer.

It isn’t until you’ve started brewing the coffee that you finally hear water running in the bathroom, and you’re getting eggs out of the fridge for breakfast when Seungmin comes stumbling out of the hall, pajama pants still on his legs, chest now covered in a sweater that someone cropped as a prank (was it Jisung? You feel like it was either him or Felix, though your whole friend group is so chaotic that it’s no surprise you don’t remember the culprit). “You left me alone in bed,” he whines.

“Good morning to you too,” you snip cheerfully, putting the eggs on the counter before turning around to hug him. “You seemed tired yesterday, so I thought I’d let you sleep a bit more.”

He just grumbles something about “cold” and “alone” and buries his face in your shoulder, forcing you to take the brunt of his weight. “Oh, shut up.” You pat his head lightly, leaning against the kitchen counter for support. “You’re a warm person. I was almost overheating when I woke up, wrapped in the blankets and burrito-ed with you.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Seungmin whines. “I don’t know why I love you.”

Ah. There it is. That ever-present bubble of fluttering energy that builds in your chest whenever your lovely Minnie says those three blissful words. A wide smile involuntarily spreads across your face as you push him away just enough to press a short kiss to his lips. “It’s because I love you and make you eggs for breakfast,” you reply, pecking him once more before steering him to the small kitchen table. “Now sit there and wait until the eggs are done.”

Even inside the apartment, the chilly fall air sometimes seeps in through minute cracks in the walls. You shiver a bit next to the kitchen window as a sharp little breeze blows through. It’s okay, though, because the next thing you know, warm, sweater-covered arms are sliding around your waist and Seungmin’s placed his chin on your shoulder, necklace digging slightly into your skin.

“I thought I told you to wait at the table,” you scold with no real bite in your voice. If anything, you just cuddle into his warmth, admiring the strength in his arms as he holds you.

“You looked cold,” he mumbles, breath puffing against your neck.

You turn briefly, just enough to press a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you, Minnie.”

Seungmin’s voice, slightly deepened with sleep, sounds like music to your ears. “You’re welcome.”

He hums in your ear, low melodies sending delightful shivers up your neck as he watches you finish the eggs. A few warm minutes later, you’re dishing them onto two plates, handing one over to your boyfriend and taking the other to the table. As Seungmin starts eating, you take a moment just to look at him and appreciate his existence.

The sun has risen enough, now, that its rays stream through the kitchen window and land on Seungmin, sparkling on the thin chain around his neck and almost making him glow. The cropped sweater shows enough of his skin to make your mouth slightly dry, but the sleeves are still long enough that he has sweater paws when he doesn’t have them rolled up his arms (and right now, he doesn’t).

Cute and hot. You grin. The dichotomy is incredible.

“Stop staring at me and eat,” Seungmin says, snapping you out of your reverie. There’s a tinge of pink on his cheeks as his sparkling eyes meet yours, slightly shy and embarrassed and so, so beautiful. “Your eggs are going to get cold.”

“Can’t blame me for appreciating the boyfriend I love so much,” you tease.

To your delight, his flush grows slightly darker and he pouts slightly as you shove food in your mouth. Your pride at flustering him must show, though, because his eyes darken the slightest bit in a way that gets your heart racing. “Oh?” He rests an elbow on the table, putting his chin onto his fist. “What do you appreciate about me, then?”

You swallow, but your eyes burn with love and mischief. “Hm. Maybe it’s how cute you look with your sweaters in cold weather, you know, the sleeves covering your hands.” You flap your own hands to demonstrate and purse your lips as Seungmin grins, mimicking a thinking expression. “Or it’s because you look really good in that cropped one in particular – seriously, I have to thank Felix or Jisung or whoever did it, because the view?” You whistle teasingly, and Seungmin bursts into the loud laughter that always fills your heart. “Ah-maze-ing.”

There are a few moments of laughter that expand through the apartment, filling the air with pleasant joy. “Anything else?” Seungmin asks finally, calming down.

“Fishing for compliments now, aren’t we?” You smirk, resting your chin on your hand. “Well, if I were to sum it up…” You feel your smile muscles relaxing, turning your wide, teasing grin into something smaller but contemplative, soft. “It’d just be your warmth.” His eyes gaze into yours steadily, giving you the courage to continue. “You’re warm, Seungmin. With you, I always feel comfortable. And I always feel loved.”

Seungmin’s smile melts into something so soft, so unbelievably peaceful and happy that even with the fall chill in the air, you feel the same warmth you just spoke of enveloping you in a cozy hug. Then Seungmin comes over and gives you the real thing, pulling you up from the chair and folding you into his arms as you rest your head against his chest.

“I love you so much, you know that?” he murmurs.

You smile into the fabric of his warm, warm sweater. “Yeah, I know.” Leaning back slightly, you gaze into his clear, lovely eyes. “I love you too.”

Sweater paws rise up to your cheeks, Seungmin’s lips pressing against yours smoothly, gently, in a graceful movement practiced over many years of love. You sigh into the kiss, hands sliding up his chest under the sweater, bringing him closer, closer until all you can feel is his body against yours.

It’s pleasant. Lovely. Warm, so warm in a way that doesn’t feel suffocating or heavy, but perfectly balanced so that you feel fuzzy all over, even when you have to break away from Seungmin’s lips to take a breath of air. Twinkling eyes stare into yours, the smile on your boyfriend’s flushed face filled with love, so much love that you didn’t even realize that much could exist. He kisses you again, then again and again, until you’re so dizzy with the bliss of his touch that you can’t think of anything else in the world except Seungmin’s name and how much you love him.

Eventually, though, you pull away, laughing slightly at the pout on Seungmin’s kiss-swollen lips. “Breakfast is definitely cold now,” you note, looking at the rapidly cooling plates left on the table.

“Noooooo,” Seungmin whines, rushing over to his dish and shoveling eggs into his mouth. “This is all your fault.”

“What?” you say incredulously. “My fault?”

“If you hadn’t distracted me with your pretty face, this wouldn’t have happened.” He pouts, a stray bit of egg staining the corner of his lips.

“Hmph.” You lean across the table to wipe it off. “Well, maybe you should learn not to get distracted by –” you motion dramatically to your face – “this beauty right here.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do when you say things like that? Not kiss you?” Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “You would’ve done the same.”

You laugh. “Touché, Minnie. Touché.”

He grins, vindicated. “Can I get another kiss for being right?”

This time, you’re the one who abandons their plate, eyes rolling playfully as you plop yourself onto his lap. And once again, you lose yourself in Seungmin’s touch as lips press against each other in a gentle dance that you know will keep you warm for many years to come.

#starryktown #inkidz #unbeleafable bingo #stray kids #skz #stray kids seungmin #seungmin #stray kids scenarios #stray kids seungmin scenarios #skz scenarios #fluff #university!au #paint the warmth of the sky #scriptura-delirus

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that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick · 3 years

Note

You ready? Cuz ITS FRIDAY WHOO!!

This week I am asking what is one (or a few) of your favorite lines of dialogue that you've written? :D

So this turned into an actual database of excerpts that took me half a day to compile but have at it (some that come from very earnest parts of my heart and a lot that just make me cackle):

Kitten:

"I don't know or care what you're implying about me, you jerk, but you can keep your nose out of Al's business." Ed's voice softened. "Anyone that innocent, especially after all we've been through, deserves to be able to stay that way."

[Ling] "You wound me so, Edward! Where was the kinship we shared when we ate your boot?"

You Infect Me:

[it's so freaking dumb but you gotta give me points for creativity]

[Saeyoung] He grabbed a bottle and a bag and took a running start. He leapt like February 29th! Spun like a silkworm! And flopped like diving flippers! Onto the couch.

“What have you been doing all day anyway? Hacking into government files? Destroying the world one cat at a time?” Saeran shuddered. “Making those stupid TokTik videos?”

Saeran rolled his eyes. "Just get in the shower. Maybe when you get your pants off, you can get on the toilet and relieve some of that emotional constipation."

Blind Trust:

"HOLY FUDGE NUGGETS ON BACON ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???" [MC]

[innuendo ahead; MC and Vanderwood]

"Do I otherwise have to wear anything in particular? That's not a lot to go off of."

"Doesn't matter to me. Now go change before I do the job myself."

"I wouldn't complain."

"This is not that kind of date! Go!"

"Fine, Sir Panties-in-a-bunch."

[Vanderwood and MC, after sassing]

"Such a docile wife I have. Never difficult, never demanding."

"You think it's sexy. Don't even try to deny it."

"I would have filed for immediate divorce if the description 'docile' actually fit you."

"...I've long come to the realization that every person is hardwired to desire love of one kind or another. I know I'm still unlearning all of my coping mechanisms, and I know I'm still sharp with some people, but with you?" [Vanderwood] smoothed a hair back from her face. "I'll take whatever love you can give me."

MC cackled. "You cannot be serious. I've got to be a mess right now."

"You act as if that's a contradiction. It's the mess that makes you more beautiful."

"Shame indeed," MC parroted, trying to steal another kiss from his lips and stealing one from his nostrils instead.

"You think you can charm your way out of anything," MC responded airily. "Well, you're right."

"Vandy…" She exhaled. "We've gone over this whole 'not deserving it' thing. Whether you deserve it or not doesn't matter. To me, what matters is your heart. You have such a beautiful heart, Vandy."

Waste It on Me: [spoilers for anyone who hasn't read it, but it's one of my top favorites]

Vanderwood growled in frustration. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that you deserve good things and that those things aren't unrealistic?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Why do you think it's such a waste of your time if you know what you want and what you don't want and if it could make you happy?"

"Because I've lived over a quarter of a century and not seen it once, Vanderwood!" Her voice broke. "Not once."

He gritted his teeth. "Fine then, MC. Fine. If love is nothing more than just a waste of your time, why not waste it on me?"

Golden Eyes and Golden Drinks:

[Winry re: Edward] "Who's off-brand Gerard Way in the corner?"

[Winry and Edward]

"I'm trying very, very hard to keep this to a stage whisper, but if you keep trying to set me up with some random creep, I won't be able to!"

A distinctly male voice grumbled, "I'm not a creep."

"Keep telling that to the girls on Tinder. I'm sure they'll understand eventually."

"Yeah, and I'll bet if you look at your 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign a little more, you'll understand it eventually."

[Ed and Winry; I'm proud of this one for the ADHD rep]

And for your information, coffee doesn't really help me wake up. It just helps me focus on homework." He lifted up his empty cup and gave it a shake.

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"ADHD is a weird thing, and yet, here I am."

I Want Your Lips More Than Your Repair Bills: [Winry POV]

But maybe, just maybe, kissing Edward would make him forget the scars on his heart. Just for a moment. His smile was like the noonday sun, and she would get to feel it pressed against her own lips. In the end, his happiness might just be the real reward.

Elric Escorts: (including all my chapter titles)

As [Edward] looked through the front door, three thoughts jumped to the forefront of his mind:

Holy mother of Jesus, she's gorgeous.

Being the kid of a former pastor really takes a toll on your use of expletives.

How does a woman so small carry a bag so gigantic and heavy?

[Winry and Ed]

"The plating design seems awfully familiar though...what company made your leg?"

"It was actually some local hag. Name's Pinako Rockbell."

"WHAT?"

"Alright, alright, geez, I'm sorry I called her a hag. She's always on my case for every little thing, though."

Winry's expression of utter shock remained unchanged.

"Is it that I go to an independent outfitter? I would have thought that you'd be more understanding, considering your family business and all."

Winry finally spoke up. "No, it's not that. Pinako Rockbell is my grandmother. Granny and I run the family business. So yeah. I'm Winry Rockbell."

[Alphonse, to Edward]

"Or, you know, I could just send myself your cringiest selfies to use for blackmail. Fyi, angling them from below doesn't make you look taller. It just makes you look like a Facebook mom."

[Mei] "I just like the idea of stabbing people for a living," she said, looking up at Al sweetly.

Alphonse snickered. "The cat's name is Jeff?"

The corners of Mei's mouth twitched. "Jeff Bezos, actually."

"What?" Al laughed incredulously.

"The owners have a peculiar sense of humor. The way they explained it to me, they thought that the idea of telling a billionaire to stop pooping on the carpet was amusing."

The aforementioned cat was vastly uninterested in discussing their shared past, finding herself more keen on making sure a certain giant stranger was worthy of their presence. The intruder held out a hand smelling suspiciously of her best friend's makeup. Maybe he stole some! Xiao Mei bravely came to her friend's defense, biting the giant's hand as hard as she could. Alas! He barely even flinched!

Basically, any AlMei that I've written are my favorite lines.

If anyone got through all of this, I applaud you but also wonder what the heck you're doing with your life. You must really like my writing for some reason.

#my fic #my writing #hopebunny #ffwf #fma fic #mysme fic #mysme vanderwood #edwin #almei #mysme seven

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intoanothermind · 4 years

Text

Beauty Queen - Chapter 8

B E A U T Y Q U E E N

Synopsis: You are the Ice Princess of Narnia during the Long Winter. Your sister Jadis, the White Witch, hates that you’re always helping Narnians escape prision. She decides to hunt you down and you have to run away from the palace. What happens when you find the four humans lost in Narnia?

- Edmund Pevensie x reader

Masterlist

—-

C H A P T E R E I G H T

When everyone was asleep, Y/N got up slowly and silently. She left the makeshift camp just long enough not to wake any of them. She moved away a little among the trees and hid behind a bush. She spread her white dress around her, camouflaging it from the snow on the floor, and sighed. She had intended to do so since she handed the other part of the glass over to Edmund, but she wouldn’t know how to react to the possible questions he would ask. To say that she was Jadis' sister, to say that she was the Snow Witch. It was one thing to open the game with others, quite another to Edmund. And she didn’t even know why.

Y/N took her own piece of glass from the white fabric, and watched it closely. The surface was cold, blue and irregular like ice, allowing you to use spells. Both pieces were taken from the ice mirror she had in her palace room. She approached the glass to her lips and whispered the spell to her reflection. Then came the well-known image of the ice castle dungeons. In one of the cells was Edmund, with tousled hair and a scratched face. He was huddled in the corner, with a chain around his ankle. Y/N felt her heart tightening, but did everything to shake this feeling. At least for now. She then whispered a communication spell and the image became dark. With the spell activated, she saw only the literal reflection of the mirror - at the time, it was Edmund sweatshirt pocket.

“Edmund! Edmund!” She called.

Edmund shifted. He clearly heard a voice close to him. Did he really hear Y/N's voice or was that dungeon driving him insane? Perhaps neither option nor another, perhaps only longing and regret were creating illusions in your mind. But then he heard your name a second time. He frowned, suspicious. Until he finally realized where the sound of that melodious voice came from. From your pocket.

“Finally!” cried Y/N seeing the boy's face appearing in the reflection.

“Y/N? What is that?” asked Edmund, clutching the piece of glass where he saw Y/N reflex in obscurity that of a forest. Was this all a dream?

“A reflex and communication spell.” and she said hastily. “The piece of glass I gave you comes from the same one I have. They were taken from my ice mirror in my room in the palace.”

“Spell? Reflection? Palace? Y/N, what's going on?” He asked, scared. What was that after all? Who was that mysterious girl really?

“I don't have time to explain now, Eddie.” she told him, trying to escape the questions. Y/N didn't want to tell him who she was. She knew she would have to do it at some point, she just tried to put it off as long as she could. “Just hold on tight that we're going after Aslam.”

“Can Aslam really help with all this?” Edmund asked wistfully.

Y/N nodded firmly. “Aslam is our hope. I may not be a person worthy of being faithful to him, but I will do everything for the Narnian people. And I will fetch you from the hands of that poisonous snake that insists on hunting me!”

Y/N had spoken so firmly and imperative that Edmund unconsciously compared her with a queen - even if he didn’t know more than your name. She was firm, confident and majestic. But then he finally heard her words. She had spoken with such hatred and bitterness that he could almost be certain that it was much more personal.

“Do you know her?” he asked, and was sure when she looked away.

“That is not the case.” Y/N said firmly, praying that she hadn’t made it very clear in her eyes. “You must try to eat and stay strong. And please try not to say too much to her. Give only informations that will keep you alive, but no more than the necessary. As soon as she decides that you are disposable, you will have no chance.”

“How do you know all this?” Edmund asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew there was so much more to that girl than she let out .

“Just trust me, Eddie, please.” Y/N said almost pleading and smiled when he nodded. “Now try to eat something to save your energy.”

Edmund wanted to know why she was so concerned about his health. She looked almost desperate, and he noticed that it was atypical behaviour. He looked around his frozen cell, and found a tray. He took the bread from the tray and took a bite. He crumbled over his mouth, but it was better than nothing. He was very hungry. He choked on the bread and started or coughed.

Y/N started or really despaired when she saw it just by reflection. She wishes she could be there to help you, but if she went, she would be caught, for sure.

“See if you water still in the isn’t frozen!” she said, trying to remain calm.

He took the mug from the tray and saw that the liquid there was frozen. There was nothing to quench the thirst.

“If...” he heard a noise beside him. It came from the cell next to his. He looked and came across a tired and injured faun. “If you won't eat more...”

Edmund then took the bread he had left aside and dragged himself to the hole that was between the cells.

“I would get up, but...” said the faun, also crawling through the cell to get closer. “My legs...”

The man came closer and took the bread.

“Mr... Tumnus?” asked Edmund.

“What's left of him.” replied the faun, savouring the bread as far as possible.

“TUMNUS!” exclaimed Y/N, to see a friendly face.

The faun looked around for the sudden voice, and Edmund held out the glass of ice. And he was astonished to see that the faun was not even surprised by all that... Bizarrity.

“Oh, Y/N!” exclaim or the faun, with a tired expression becoming a little more cheerful and. “Always with the impressive antics!”

“I needed a way to communicate with Edmund and find out what my... What Jadis intends!” Y/N corrected herself quickly when she realized that she had almost slipped her relationship with the Witch in front of Edmund. She just prayed that he hadn't noticed. “Ah, I still haven’t forgotten you locking me in with that chair!”

“It seems that not even the ice was able to release that.” said the faun. But Edmund just got more confused. “How you get out of there?”

Y/N smiled sarcastically . “It was your cellmate, he was kind enough to get me out of there with his siblings.”

“Siblings?” asked Tumnus, a little confused, returning the glass to Edmund. The faun analysed him well and saw some physical similarities with someone he knew. “Your sister is Lucy Pevensie.” he stated.

“My name is Edmund.”

“Yes... You have the same nose.”

“Edmund...” Y/N was about to say when a noise was heard on the other side. She practically knew what it was. “Put this glass out of sight!”

She then undid the communication spell, while the boy's glass was put back in his pocket. And the vision became external again, as if seeing through a window.

They heard a noise outside the cells, like someone coming down to the dungeons. They saw the Witch opening the doors of Edmund's cell and the faun turned on his back, while Edmund crawled again near the tray.

"So..." said the Witch. “My police broke up the dike, you know?! Your little family was not found.”

Edmund was happy with that, but he couldn't let it show. The Witch then took him by the collar of her blouse, lifting him up on his fee.

“Where did they go?” she asked.

“I... I don't know” Edmund said, with difficult breathing.

“So you don't have any use anymore.” growled the Witch, playing it back to the tea it.

She raised her staff.

“Wait!” Edmund said, remembering Y/N's words. “The beaver said something about Aslam!”

The Witch lowered her staff, gaping.

“Aslam?” She asked. “Where?”

“I...”

“He is not from here, Your Majesty.” the faun intruded quickly. “He can't know anything.”

He was kicked by the dwarf that accompanies the Sorceress.

"I asked..." said the Witch, turning to Edmund again. “Where's Aslam?”

The faun looked pleadingly at the boy and he finally realized that he could not give the information he had. It would be the end of Narnia, the end of Aslam and worse: the end of his family and Y/N.

“I don't know.” he replied at last, preferring to lie. “I left before they said.”

The Witch looked at the faun, who bowed his head in thanks.

“I really wanted to see you!” said Edmund in a hurry.

“Guard!” cried the Witch.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” said a hoarse, gravelly voice. Soon afterwards, Edmund could see a hideous orc entering the cell.

“Free the faun!” ordered the Witch.

The orc tore the chains that bound Mr. Tumnus's hooves with an ax, while he whined and was dragged to the Witch' feet.

She turned to him and said.

“Do you know why you're here, faun?”

“Because I believe in a free nation.” He replied with difficulty, as swollen cheeks were a problem.

“You’re here...” she said and pointed the staff at Edmund. “because he handed you over. For sweets.”

The man looked at Edmund in amazement, who bowed his head, ashamed. The Witch lowered the staff and ordered the orc.

“Take him upstairs.” while the faun was dragged out, she turned to the dwarf. “Prepare my reindeer. Edmund misses his family.”

She turned and left the cell, leaving him there locked and alone. Or so they thought. As soon as he found himself alone there, he quickly picked up the piece of glass, seeing the girl there with a sad expression and almost in tears.

“Y/N, what do I do?” he asked, almost desperate.

Y/N had been thinking about it since she saw him coming out of the beaver dam. She would have tried, without a doubt, if I had not known that this was the destiny, that the ancient prophecy could not change. But now, nothing could stop her from trying.

“Now? You wait.” she said in a determined voice, as he stood with the glass still in hands.

“Wait?” Edmund asked, confused. “Wait to die?”

Y/N broke into an almost sadistic smile. “Wait for me. I'm already coming.”

And then she undid the spells and went to the camp to get her sword.

#Edmund #King Edmund #edmund pevensie #edmund the just #edmund pevensie x reader #king edmund the just #edmund pevensie imagine #narnia #chronicles of narnia #The Chronicles of Narnia #narnia imagine #peter pevensie #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #aslam #beauty queen

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Surveys #447-448

(one from yesterday, one from v early this morning)

How did you and the last person you kissed start talking? By both being meerkat RPers on YT back in the day. Do you think someone is falling in love with you? Definitely not. Do you have a bad temper? Nah. What was the last song you listened to? SOBS "Suteki Da Ne" from FFX. If your mom was a teacher, would you want to be in her class? Hell yeah. She actually has been my substitute teacher before, as she worked at my elementary school with the special ed kids. Are you comfortable with people going through your phone? No. I have nothing to hide on there at all, but still... I just don't like it. Do you really care about what toothpaste you use? So long as it's mint-flavored, no, I don't care. Would you like it if the whole world spoke one language? I mean, I think it's pretty inarguable that that would be a beneficial thing. For all humans to understand each other, like in dire situations where information needs to be brought across. However, I don't believe we should actually try to change that now with so many languages already developed. That would be way, way too big a task and not that important. Would mind-reading really be a blessing or a curse? I'd find it more to be a curse. Would you ever get a pet turtle? Why or why not? Nah. They just don't interest me as pets. Do you tend to daydream a lot? If so, about what? Yeah. .-. About a lot of stuff... How I want my future to be, things I wish would happen, how I'd change past errors... What shop/store/brand would you model for, if given the choice? I would 110% model for Cloak if for whatever miraculous reason they wanted me to because a bitch supports her favorite human asdkfajkwle. I'd totally do some goth modelling for Rebel's Market, too. Do you actually read your friend’s surveys, or do you just copy and paste them and fill them out yourself? I read my friends' answers, yes. I like learning obscure things about them. Which is your favorite episode of I Love Lucy? Bar none, the "Vitameatavegamin" one. It's fucking hilarious, man. I love that show. Do you consider yourself a deep thinker? WAY too deep. Name two people who you are closest with? My mom and Sara. Which one of those two people would you eat first, if you were starving? Neither. I would absolutely rather die. No one cares whether or not you believe in love at first sight… but, do you believe in hate at first sight? Well, let's be real. If you witnessed someone being abused or raped or something like that, wouldn't YOU hate the villain immediately? I sure as hell would. When you were a kid, which comic strip was your favorite? I didn't care for those. How do you feel about fake plants? They can look good, they can look tacky, and they make great additions to some animal enclosures, like reptiles and bugs, for cover and new textures. Does it make you uncomfortable when people ask you your shoe size? Er, no? Would you feel guilty about cheating on your taxes if you got away with it? Yes. I tend to have a guilty conscience. Are you happy with your weight? NO. Do you go to church? If so, do you actually pay attention? No. When I was forced to go as a kid, I never paid attention. As a very young adult when I super rarely went, I would try to, but my attention definitely wavered. Would you rather have your nose or tongue pierced? Tongue, if it just didn't damage my damn teeth. :( I miss my snake eyes. Ever peed in your pants after the age of 10? It's very embarrassing, but yes. A few years ago, I had this very strange period of premature incontinence when I slept. I had to be put on some medication and a schedule to wake up in the night to use the bathroom. It oddly just... vanished as randomly as it started. Had any surgeries? What kind? I had tubes put in my ears as a baby, and then at the start of 2017 (I think), I had to have a cyst removed from my butt. :^) Ever told your parents you hated them? I've told Dad that, yes. Are you sober? Yeah. Do you have a crazy side? Not really, no. I'm boring. Do you have siblings over the age of 18? All of my siblings are. Do you think that downloading music illegally is immoral? Yes, and yet... I do it anyway. :x Have you ever sworn at a policeman/woman/cop? No. How far do you agree that the mother is more important in a child’s life than the father? I Don't agree with that. Would you ever let one of your children enter a beauty pageant? If they were old enough to make their own decisions, I'd have no say. But as a little kid, no. I do not support those damn things. What was your favorite Pokemon as a child? Charmander! :') Do you have a favorite name? What is it? Alessandra. It's so beautiful. What was the topic of the last assignment/essay you wrote? Toxic masculinity. I got SO into that essay. What’s your favorite type of juice? Probably peach mango. What was the hardest language you’ve ever tried to learn? LATIN. Like holy shit. What’s your younger sibling’s name? Nicole. What kind of cookie is your favorite? Chocolate chip. What would you do if your ex contacted you? I would just be... so happy. But also scared of where it would lead. What age would you like to have a child? No age, because I never want any. Are your parents wealthy? Definitely not. My dad SEEMS decently well-off, but he is most certainly not rich. Have you ever asked someone out? Yes. Your ex tells you they want you back, what do you say/do? I know I'd say yes, very quickly. -_- Do you know anyone that smokes weed? More like she's addicted to it. Is there one person you look at and automatically smile? Oh, that's Mark for sure, ha ha. Especially if he's laughing. It's game over for me if he's laughing. What’s your favorite hairstyle on a guy? Don't even fucking @ me, I love the emo hair swoop alskdfjalkwje;kjrwklejarwe Do you know anyone who’s won the lottery? No. What’s the name of the last cat you pet? Roman. What have you been up to today? Anything interesting? The only thing I've done today that deviates from my normal routine is I had to get blood drawn for some tests for my upcoming check-up. I don't know what was up with that needle, but it hurt this time. Are you the type of person to dwell on the past? I live there. Did your grandparents teach you anything? Not really, no... besides being old-fashioned is not an excuse for being an uptight... er... this answer is so mean, given the grandmother I'm talking about is dead, oof. Do you want/have a Bachelor’s degree? I wanted one... but I don't have one and never will. Are you a fan of penguins? Yeah, they're mega cute. Who do you think about most constantly? Why? Anyone who reads these can answer that very, very easily. Have you ever considered yourself to be something other than heterosexual? Yeah; I'm either bi or pan. I think pansexual as of very recently, but for simplicity's sake and also for almost all of my family to not think I'm crazy, I really just say bisexual. Have you ever been in love? With who? Yes; Jason and Sara. Dolphins, whales, sharks, or narwhals? Dolphins or whales. Have you ever gotten anything amputated? No. Have you ever tied your tooth to a door to lose it? No. What do you do on the computer? Oh jeez... I'm pretty much, well, always on the computer, so I do a whole lot. I watch/listen to YouTube, write, clean out my dA notifications and browse artwork, scroll through Facebook, play World of Warcraft, edit the Silent Hill wiki, do way too many surveys, talk to Sara on Discord... Anything your parents should know about? No. Do you have a life? It sure as hell doesn't feel like it. I do nothing noteworthy. Do you have a microphone on your computer? It's built-in, but it doesn't work. Does your mouse light up? Yeah; red normally, blue when it's charging. Then it's also purple sometimes??? I have no idea what it means. Were you ever physically abused? No. Verbally? No. Sexually? No. Do your teachers like you? Not to brag or anything, but all my teachers loved me. Do your parents like you? I know they love me. Do your siblings like you? I don't feel like they do half the time. :/ It's my own fault for not knowing how the fuck to interact with them. Did you have a tail when you were born? At first I saw this question and was confused as shit, but then I remembered this was actually a thing, ha ha. But no, I wasn't. Do you enjoy school? I hated it. Are you shallow? No. Greedy? I don't think so, no. It feels good to share. Do you have a piercing in an inappropriate spot on your body? No. A tattoo? Well, I have a tattoo over my heart, so it's on my breast, if you wanna count that? Are you stubborn? God, am I. Are you incestuous? Fuck no. Do you respect your body? Meh... Yes in some ways, in other ways no. Have you ever been to therapy? Did you like it? I've been in therapy for most of my life, and yes, I find it helpful. Have you ever used Duolingo to learn another language? No. Are you unhappy at the moment? Yes. I usually am. Do you have any gay friends? Yes. Have you ever watched iCarly? Yeah, I used to enjoy it. Who’s your favorite Disney character? Probably Dory. What was the last thing you wrote in a word document? This survey, actually. It's how I format it and save my progress. What did you last take painkillers for? A headache. Are there any hobbies you want to get back into? Drawing. :/ Have you ever been on a date with someone you met online? How was it? Yeah; when Sara and I were together and I went up to visit her, we had a breakfast date once. :') Do you find it difficult to get rid of material possessions? Yeah. I hold a lot of nostalgia in many items. What sort of games do you like to play? Horror and fantasy, mainly. They need a story, too, and I ESPECIALLY enjoy games with multiple endings. Then I also play WoW, which is an MMORPG. Do you know anyone who is deaf? No. Have you ever been married? Nope. What is your favorite thing to dip fries in? Ketchup. Do you still talk to anyone you went to high school with? Just Girt, really. Have you ever had to dispute a charge on your credit card? I've never had my own credit card. Quick! Choose pink or purple. Pink, duh. What's your favorite book genre? Fantasy. Would you say you’re generally fit and healthy? Why/why not? No. :/ I'm trying to change that though by going to the gym. Would you ever want a job working with animals? My main aspiration is to be a wildlife photographer, if that counts? Sara also wants to be a ball python breeder, and we talk all the time about it and how I'd love to be like an assistant and help with my own future snakes. Most recently, I will definitely have to have experience with them as pets first and see if I can handle it, but I've considered breeding tarantulas on the side. The hobby could ALWAYS use more breeders to prevent wild-caught specimens being taken from the wild, and it would help lower their prices. I've gotten so passionate about those furry bastards that I would really enjoy helping out with that. Do you believe in your horoscope? Even if you don’t, do you still read it? Not at all. I don't, because it feels like a waste of time if I don't even believe in it. If a couple is married, do you think there should be any legal punishment if one person cheats? No... I am firmly against cheating, but that sounds extreme. Do you enjoy Tim Burton films? Which one is your favorite? Of course! My favorite is Corpse Bride.

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Was the last book you read for fun, or was it for some type of assignment? It was for fun. Do you think you would be a good match for your celebrity crush(es) assuming you have one? Why? If you don’t have one, who was the last person you saw that you found attractive? No, honestly. He really doesn't like seeing people not pursuing their utmost potential, and, uhhhh, look at me, lol. I'm in no way good enough for that god of a human being lmao. How old were you when you had your wisdom teeth removed? I still have them. I only have two, and my mouth has enough room for them. Do you wish you were taller or shorter? My height's fine. Where was the last job application you filled out sent to? Food Lion. Have you ever been fired from a job? No. I quit way too early for that to ever happen. .-. What poster is hanging closest to you? My big Metallica one. Which cuisine do you like the least? I honestly haven't experimented enough with foreign foods to decide on one specific cuisine I really don't like as a whole. Are there any foods you dislike because of the texture? There are A LOT. I am very, very sensitive to textures. Which type of chocolate do you like best? Milk chocolate. Do you let your pets sleep in your bed? Absolutely. Well, obviously not my snake Venus, but Roman? Yes. This is his house, too, and he deserves a comfy space to sleep. If you wear makeup, what are your preferred brands? I don't have one. Have you ever made sun tea? I have no idea what that is. Do you prefer powdered or liquid coffee creamer? I don't like coffee. Did your school have somewhere for girls to get emergency pads/tampons? Yes. Do you think they should make a movie about Hatshepsut? Now here's a question I haven't heard before, ha ha. I actually think that would be quite interesting and certainly empowering to women. Do you like to go to the movies alone? I actually did that for the Warcraft movie, and it was pretty chill. I prefer going with others, though. Have you ever dried down any flowers to keep them? No. What is your favorite thing that you have made by yourself? Probably my Pyramid Head/Halo of the Sun drawing. I worked my ass off on that, and I love how it came out. Do you like using clay and/or peel-off masks for skincare? I don't use those specifically, no. Have you ever made a pillow out of an old T-shirt? No. If you want to be cremated, do you want your ashes scattered anywhere? I haven't really thought of this, but I know I want them to be scattered somewhere. I don't wanna be cremated and have no lineage to cherish the ashes so I just end up thrown away or scattered in someone's backyard or something like that. I guess the desert would be pretty cool, if it was one with meerkats. Would you ever have a deceased pet stuffed? No. I have mixed feelings on taxidermy, but doing that to your pet just... seems wrong somehow. Like I feel that there'd be an unhealthy attachment to a dead body, and it feels like you're not allowing your beloved pet to truly, fully rest. Even if there is nothing beyond death, it's just a respect thing to me. Would you ever have a pet cremated? Teddy was cremated, yes. I WANTED to cremate my first ball python and Chinese water dragon, and both were in the freezer for a long time, but it just... never happened. It's not cheap. Mom also had Cali (her dog) cremated, but didn't keep the ashes herself because of it, once again, being expensive. Personal cremation costs more than a group one. Do you believe in the existence of parallel universes? Nah. How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Once. Collect anything? Any and all meerkat stuff and Silent Hill merchandise. Can you stick your fist in your mouth? ... I'm not about to try that. When was the last time you were high on anything? Never. Ever had a bloody nose? Yes. Have you ever caught a fish? Yes. Ever been up a mountain? Ugh, I wish! What are you listening to right now? I'm watching Gab Smolders play Amnesia: The Dark Descent. Do you have any birthmarks? Yeah; it's on my right forearm, near the elbow. Have you ever been slapped? I've been spanked and slapped on the arm by my mother when I was younger. And sometimes not so young. What do you want pierced? My collarbones, nostril, way more in my ears, and possibly my back dimples if I shrink down to a size where you can actually SEE them clearly... Do you like taking pictures? Of nature and animals. Sometimes people. Do you like getting your picture taken? Hell no. Have you ever started a rumor? No. Do you have your own pool? No. What do you want a tattoo of? You're asking someone who wants to be COVERED in tats, ha ha. I have a billion ideas. Have you ever been skinny dipping? Nah. Have you ever been chased by cops? No. Do you ever wear shirts do show your belly? OH FUCK NO. What about cleavage? I wear tank tops more than anything, so some. What theme does your room have? It doesn't have one. Do you like cows? Awwww, I love cows. :') <3 Which slow animal is your favorite? Sloth, turtle, or snail? Turtles aren't that slow; it's tortoises you're thinking about, so I'll consider them instead. Regardless, I think I find snails the cutest. If you had to create an app, what would it be for? I have zero clue. What is one television finale where you were upset with how it ended? I don't know. Other than mandatory lockdowns, have you had to quarantine at all for CoVid? No. What steps would you take in order to track down a thief? ... Not many, tbh, given JUST how afraid of confrontation I am, ha ha. What is something that one of your family member collects? Dad collects Cleveland Browns and Carolina Hurricanes sports stuff. What are some questions that you would ask your favorite celebrity? I've... never thought of this, believe it or not. I'd be too busy blubbering about how important he is to me and thanking him for everything he's ever done alskdjfkla;wje Have you ever legitimately forgotten to do homework? Yes. That was very, very rare, though. Depending on where you live, why might a day of school get canceled? If there was a 1% chance of half an inch of snow. :^) Everyone flips their shit here when that happens. Also, hurricanes. What types of transportation do you think we will see in the future? Besides possibly flying cars, idk. Which freaks you out more - clowns or porcelain dolls? aklsdjflajdsALSKDFJA;LWJE D O L L S. Porcelain dolls creep me out, man. Do you like salami? Yeah. Do you know your mum's first pet's name? I actually don't, no. Do you like car racing? No. I think it's stupid, honestly. People can get and have gotten seriously hurt, or worse. Who hugs you the most often? My niece and nephew, probably. Has your favorite actor ever been stuck to a project you dreaded watching (e.g., stuck on a bad TV show for years)? No. When you were a child did you wish you were named something else? What sort of fantasy life did you imagine for yourself if you’d only had this other better name? Bro I shit you not, I wanted to change my name to "Dory" because of Finding Nemo, lmao. I never thought about how my life would be different, though. Are you a plant person? How do you feel about the trend of owning many, many houseplants? Nah, plant maintenance isn't for me. I don't care how many plants you own so long as you care for them. It seems pointless to buy plants and just neglect them. What are you sick of hearing about? Anti-vax bullshit. Do you wish that you had more followers on any platform? Do you even pay attention to how many likes/comments/followers you have? The only places I really care about that are my photography Facebook page and deviantART because ffs I TRY to make progress as a photographer lasdkfj;lawe but neither move very fast at all. Are you currently working on an art project? No. :/ I need to draw something for once. If applicable, what color are you planning to dye your hair next? I have three in mind: lilac, pastel pink, or silver. Do you have a sibling who looks like your twin? No. My older and younger sister look remarkably similar, though. People have confused them a lot. Do you think you'd make a good actor or actress? God no, I'd feel far too awkward. Do you believe you have a lot of potential? Ugh, I don't know, dude. Would you like to be rich and own a vacation home? Who wouldn't? Have you ever walked through a labyrinth? No. What eyeshadow color do you think looks best on you? Black. I only wear black. Do you shop in the girls, juniors, or women's section at the store? Women's. Do you play video games? I haven't played a game other than WoW in a long time. :/ I only have a PS2 and Wii, and most of the games I want to play are for newer generation consoles. Is your house more than two stories tall? It's not even two stories. Have you ever had the flu? No. *knocks on wood* Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship? Nope. Would you ever get a lip tattoo? No. I want tons of tats, but that sure isn't one of 'em. Has any place hired you underage for a job? No. Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? No. Does eating breakfast make you sick? No. I'm one of those people that wants to eat right when I wake up. What four states in the USA would you most like to visit? Which four countries would you most like to visit? States: Alaska, Utah, Wyoming, and some southwestern state where I can visit the desert and maybe see wild tarantulas. Countries: South Africa, Germany, Canada, and uhhhh idk. Would it bother you if your boyfriend hugged other females (think hypothetically if you don’t have one)? Why or why not? No? Hugs can just be a friendly gesture. They don't have to have underlying romantic implications. If you had snow-days as a kid, how did you spend them? Do you like the snow, in general? Oh man, snowy days were the epitome of joy when I was a kid. The #1 thing I wanted to do was make a snowman with Dad and my sisters if the snow was the right texture to pack. We loved snowball fights, making snow angels, watching the cats play... and you CAN'T forget making sugary snow cream. Do you know anyone who does hard drugs? Would you ever befriend someone that did? No one that does hard drugs now, no. I honestly don't know how I'd respond to wanting to befriend a hardcore druggie... Like I'm totally aware drug addicts are not innately bad people, but it can be dangerous to associate with them. So idk. Do hospitals make you nervous? Why or why not? Do you have any bad hospital experiences? Yes. I do NOT like being in hospitals. I've never been treated badly in one or anything, but I just have way, way too many ER memories from being suicidal and just stripped of everything that could somehow be interpreted as a "danger." Even books had to be approved. Technology of all kinds, forbidden. All I did was sleep on that godawful bed and wish I was dead. But I'm rambling; point is, I really don't like any health care establishment just because of negative memories. Do you still talk to the first person you ever dated? If not, would you want to? Why or why not? No. We just don't. I wouldn't be opposed to knowing what he's up to. What do you like most about your favorite animal? Their loyalty and bravery are purely astonishing. Do you need a job? Yes. I'm a leech in my house. I serve no financial purpose to assist my mom in paying bills and all of that. I'm a full-grown adult that should be benefiting humanity. Who do you love the most in your life? My mom, cat, and best friend probably top the list. What is your mom doing right now? I hope she's asleep, but she tends to sleep very badly and is frequently tossing and turning around this time. Where does she work? She's on disability. For the type of cancer she had, she automatically got it with her diagnosis. It's recently been a year since her last chemo session, but let me tell you from witnessing it: It takes A LOT out of you. It was actually torturous for her. She's still regaining her strength and healing before she can wisely get another job. Do you have Netflix? Yeah. What was the last thing you quit doing? I don't know. Have you ever read a book that changed your life? No. Who did you last talk to before you went to bed last night? Sara, if through text counts. Have you ever taken Xanax before? Yes; I was prescribed it for quite a while. Have you ever suffered from anxiety or depression? Try both, buddy.

#survey #surveys #random questions

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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For the OTP ask: 8, 9, 16, 53, and 91 (for this one, it could just be a song you have for them, too) :D

*rubs palms together and giggles* Oooo, I'm loving these questions! I get to show how much of a nerd am I for these two nerds! >:3

8. Who tends to worry the most?

I was going to answer this with 'both equally', but the more I think, the more I realize that Solas is the one who worries the most. XD

I mean, come on. We all know Solas is a natural worry wart. It's in the man's blood, and Fane has a tendency to make his dear wolf's blood pressure rise to fatal heights with the shit he does. PFFT!

Fane is a literal battering ram when it comes to battles (this is based on how I've specced him in-game), and he just charges in without caring if he'll get sliced, diced, or scorched. Fane's illness with magic makes it incredibly difficult for Solas to erect barriers on him, so he has to devise other ways to keep Fane in one piece (nitpicking about his armor, constantly asking, 'Are you certain you are ready?', and begging, 'Please control yourself this time, ma'isenatha.') All of that worry comes from the fact that Solas has seen Fane die, has had to guide him to it, even. Fane doesn't mean to brush off that concern and worry, but when he's embroiled in battle he...loses his senses a bit. Dragons aren't meant to fight, and fighting is what Fane does best in his new life, so he has a hard time balancing bloodlust with merciful restraint.

If Fane gets injured (which he does, but only grazes and the occasional gash), Solas won't let anyone else attend to him, fear gripping his mind, memories of blood soaked crystal and decaying scales cracking his mask and rendering him tortured. When Fane sees that, instead of just seeing the nagging, he'll go docile, go remorseful and will say, 'I'm sorry, my sky. I never meant to-- I only--hn.' Once they talk and wind down though, things get right back on track, but Solas is constantly worrying over his dragon--constantly.

Solas worries about everything with Fane--his scars, his nightmares, his battle with his identity--but battle is where he's the least reserved in it. He doesn't want Fane to have to fight, but he knows they both don't have a choice in the matter.

9. Who is more inclined to be jealous or possessive?

Dragons--naturally possessive, i.e. hoards.

Wolves--naturally protective of those within their pack, i.e. touch member of pack, you get snapped at or even bitten.

Fane and Solas are both highly protective of one another. They just go about it in different ways. Fane's more likely to snap and glower at an infringing form, making it known where they can take their 'affections'. Solas is more reserved, but most can attest that his gaze leaves them shivering and near stone with how cold it is if Fane is randomly touched by an unwanted suitor or harassed by a fawning noble. Obviously, Fane and Solas try to keep the respective beasts at bay, worried the other will think less of them for such childish behavior, but sometimes--sometimes--it's extremely hard to keep a polite mask in place due to memories of harshness and filth.

For example!

---

"You're...jealous?", Fane asked, blinking and attempting to piece together what he was feeling now. And he couldn’t. “Of who?”

Solas' eyes fell shut with a rueful chuckle. "Most here. Is that hard to believe? It is petty, I know, but eyes have been upon you since your entrance; each pair a set of daggers. You carried yourself with confidence, with pride, and every single noble within the ballroom responded to your very presence. They whispered, they sought, they undressed." The final word a mixture between a hiss and a growl that was accompanied by a small sneer of disdain before it all relaxed. "My heart knows where your own lies, my dragon, but my mind, too, is being a thorn in my side."

Fane stared down at Solas, shocked and...mesmerized. His sky had been jealous of the looks of fops and prisses? Those who had no chance of ever reaching through to his heart? To his emotions? Those who played with lives as a puppeteer did with strings?

This was...oddly amusing, but only because they were both fools.

Here they were, in the lion’s den, hunting an assassin that threatened to topple an empire, seeking answers to questions they didn’t even know yet, playing a game of macabre chess and deciding who would rise and who would fall, and they were both jealous from nattering nobles who killed for sport or an inconsequential servant girl that would be forgotten in the morn. The ridiculousness nearly made Fane cackle. Was this what court intrigue encompassed? He didn’t see the appeal.

Fane huffed out amusedly. "I love you.", he said, point blank with no room to be denied. “Ar lath ma, ma tarasyl.”, he repeated in Elvhen, lifting a hand to rub at his face and shook his head in disbelief at himself.

Solas’ eyes snapped open at his declaration, a blush stretching across his face and was apparent even in the shadows that embraced them. That swath of delicate pink nearly had Fane cracking, breathing out a steadying sigh through his nose instead. Damn anything that was holy, if poison didn’t kill him, this endearing, foolish elf would. How could he be so blind when responses like that reaffirmed where his sky’s heart lay?

“Sorry, it’s just..”, Fane started before letting out a tiny laugh, massaging his cheekbones in slow circles. “You looked so ashamed by how you felt, even though I just said I felt the same way. If anything, I should feel ashamed because I’m jealous of someone far more innocent than these Orlesian pricks.”

Solas tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “May I know who you were jealous of?”, he inquired.

Fane let out an airy laugh, kneading his brow with two fingers. “The servant girl that just left not even five minutes ago.”, he admitted, face growing hot with shame and embarrassment. He was such a fool. A pathetic, blind fool.

“The servant--?”, Solas began before letting out a quiet, breathless laugh of his own. “Ma’isenatha, you are aware that we are at court, at the heart of Orlais, yes? Appearing gentile and cordial is but a step in a very specific dance. My reactions to her were equal parts genuine and fluid, and I felt nothing beyond that.”

Fane huffed, letting his hand fall to his side. “I know, but it’s like you said, just the sight of another making reaches for someone you fought for, someone you adore and respect is infuriating. I just got you back and to have it taken away again is--”, he tried to explain, lifting his hand back up to rub at his face again. “Fenhedis lasa. A fucking smile sent my mind spiraling. Ridiculous..”

---

Halamshiral was fun! :D

16. Do they enjoy dancing?

Fane is the guy who stands in a dark corner at parties, and glares at everyone who tries to get too close, soooo...no. PFFFT!

However, if it were just he and Solas in their quarters, a light of levity possessing them, then he might be willing to let the other teach him steps that weren't able to be done by massive claws. The Winter Palace is the one time Fane takes the initiative and actively offers Solas his hand for a dance--all grace and poise unlike that of a dragon.

...The finery didn't fall fast enough that night for Solas. *is SLAPPED*

And I like to think Solas secretly yearns for such simple pleasures as a waltz or ginger circle, swaying to the music, time seeming endless once more. He misses what was before, and maybe just a tiny step can make him feel a little less lost. :3

53. Who is the better dancer?

Solas. 100%.

Fane is graceful in battle, able to shift his weight and glide with the flow of blood and chaos. But the more delicate arts--that of dancing? Yeah, no. My boy's prone to step on someone's toes and curse for them because 'A dragon? Dancing at court? Void take me..' Vivienne and Josephine had to let Solas teach Fane how to dance because he was so against the idea that he would lock himself in their quarters and refuse to entertain the two women. Solas has a hard time, but with Leliana's help, they manage to get Fane to see he does have a certain knack for the finer things. *winks*

Honestly, Solas is shocked at the Winter Palace when he sees Fane dancing with the Duchess because...he moved as if from memory, and not the one's of stumbling, cursing, and heavy sighing as legs tripped up and toes were stomped on.

Fane moved like an Evanuris--those attuned to the ancient courts with a charming smile in place to match. *sips my tea* Exquisite~

91. What is their song?

So, if I do like the implications that 'Once We Were' gives, and Solas and Fane like more gentle songs like that.

But me, personally? I adore 'Red Like Roses' from RWBY for these two. It just hits a lot of key points for me about them, but I seriously have to get a playlist together since so many songs make me thing of these two. 'Bad Habits' by Ed Sheeran is one that makes me think of them, too. Mainly Fane, but some parts fit for them together. *urge to compose a playlist intensifies*

Thank you so much for the ask, my friend! These were a lot of fun ones! But then again, all of them are! X3

#asks #ask #oc: fane lavellan #solas #solavellan #dragon age #ngl i'm getting antsy to divulge EVERYTHING with fane #fanfic or no! XD #but i must be STRONG *shakes fist*#*starts to hum 'once we were'*#i love the tavern songs so much ;3;#solas aka mr. old man worry X'D #thank you so much again! <3

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capnjay21 · 4 years

Text

A House is Never Still 6/6

Five years ago, Emma Swan disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Killian Jones’ disappearance, well, not so mysterious – given the denizens of Storybrooke all but blamed him for her murder. Drawn back to town by a series of strange events, he soon realises the story of what really happened the night she vanished is beginning to unravel, and what’s more: it isn’t over.

A/N: and here is the conclusion! I’ll ramble a little more at the end, but for now, please once again accept my repeated and evermore wildly gesticulated thanks for @hollyethecurious for this beautiful aesthetic which made the fic - I literally would not have done it without it! also hollering at the kids from the @csrolereversal way back when for starting the event that I originally signed up for, it was so much fun to be part of and while I’m a lil disappointed with myself for finishing so much later, life happens! thanks all!

and now - story happens!

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of suicide, canonical character death, and some Spooky Business™.

Continuing the teeny tiny taglist - but if you want off this list for the epilogue (pending), just let me know and I promise I will not be offended! <3

@snowbellewells @carpedzem @kmomof4 @optomisticgirl

AO3 | one | two | three | four | five

-/-

6 - when the first man awoke in the night

Present Day

There was a pervading sense of strangeness to seeing them all in the same room again.

It was like listening to your favourite song for the first time in years, but the lyrics were now backwards. Instead of humming along in that easy, thoughtless way, it felt jarring to the ears and forced you to really consider what exactly you were hearing, line by line, word by word.

Killian couldn’t stop thinking about every word he offered up into their shared space now; everything felt permanent, nothing could be taken back. What they said in this moment would mark how every moment after it would come to be. He was sure of it, and he was sure the other three felt the same, which was why very little had been said since Mary Margaret had warily invited he, Regina and David over the threshold and into her loft.

Regina had taken a position nearest the door, arms folded, expression neutral, leaning steadily against the wall. She looked like someone trying desperately to imitate the pose of one unaffected, but the tension in the set of her shoulders gave her away. Killian had perched on the stairs that led up to the upper floor, and David stood in the centre of the room shifting his weight from foot to foot and glaring sadly around him, as if he had no idea where he fit into this room anymore and imagined any of her items of furniture might have been the one to oust him. Mary Margaret sat at the side of her dining table that allowed her to face all three of them at once, hands clasped tightly together over the tabletop.

Mary Margaret had offered them tea and they had all declined.

It was the distance, Killian decided, that was most difficult to take in. It was the closest they had been to each other in five years, but the space between them had never felt wider.

The tape recorder was clutched tightly in Killian’s right hand. It was a little slick with sweat from his palm, but he refused to let it go.

“Is this about Emma?” Mary Margaret asked, and while she asked politely, the edge in her voice was unmistakable. She did not want her house of cards to come down around her. When they didn’t immediately reply she offered with a wry eyebrow raise: “It’s not likely to be about anything else, is it?”

“It is,” Killian said, seeing no point in drawing it out. “It’s about the house.” He and David exchanged a look. “It’s back.”

Something ticked in Mary Margaret’s jaw. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer – I don’t want to know.”

In that moment, Killian couldn’t see anything but Emma in her – except he had always had an instinct for how to scale Emma’s walls, but with Mary Margaret he floundered.

Fortunately, there was someone else in the room who knew how far better than he.

“Hey,” David started, gently, in that tone so earnest and warm that none of them had ever really been able to ignore. “You know who we are, you know what this must be. Just look at us.” No matter what else had happened, there they all were. “This isn’t something from nothing – we wouldn’t do that to you.” He gave her a sad sort of smile. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Mary Margaret stared back up at him, and not for a second did Killian believe their story was as over as they had both claimed it was. “What is it, then?” she asked.

“It’s this.” Killian stood up, opening his palm to reveal the tape recorder inside. It was sturdy and blocky, resembling a clunky child’s toy more than the instrument that had brought them together that night. He laid it on the table, and before she could ask he cut her off. “I recorded this five nights ago, in Brooke House.”

The tape immediately began to crackle and scratch, and Killian fast-forwarded just long enough until it started. It whirred, and it tck-tck-tck-ed, and eventually there was a voice.

‘Emma?’

His voice. Cutting through the static. There were a few thumps. A rustle as he’d stuffed the recorder in his pocket, some creaks as he climbed the stairs within Brooke House. Through the recording, Killian could relive the second night he had gone to the house since coming back to Storybrooke, the same way both Regina and David already had.

‘Emma?’

There was a crash, and the unmistakable tear of book bindings. Except, where Killian had heard Emma’s voice that night, the tape recorder had picked up nothing. Instead it sounded as if Killian had stood in silence, waiting.

‘Why didn’t you show yourself to Regina?’

Another thud, as another book was hurled against the wall. Otherwise, quiet.

‘Come here,’ the Killian on the tape said, ‘let me look at you.’

Mary Margaret was frowning, and lifted her bemused gaze up first to Killian, and then the others. “What is this?”

“Just wait,” Regina answered quietly from her place by the door.

The Killian on the tape let out a long breath. ‘I’m so sorry.’ A pause. ’All of it.’

Killian bristled at the memory, felt the cold touch of her lips like a steel edge. You couldn’t tell from the recording what had happened, and Killian had not been quick to fill the others in on his actions during that particular interval. But even as the seconds passed, his pulse began to race – he had listened to this recording a hundred times already, listened to Emma’s spectral presence like a non-entity, had initially resigned himself to having caught nothing of measurable value to show she was there at all.

Except right then –

‘Killian?’

Emma’s voice was unmistakable.

Mary Margaret’s reaction was instant, and visceral. She almost bolted out of her chair. In fact, she looked so suddenly pale and faintly ill that Killian nearly offered to fetch her something to throw up in. What were you supposed to do when you heard the voice of your long dead friend, five years after the fact of their dying?

But it was just that one word – then it was Killian promising to help her, and then there was nothing at all.

“There’s more,” he said grimly, but he had a feeling Mary Margaret wouldn’t have been able to form words just yet anyway. Killian clicked a finger on the fast forward.

He had completely forgotten about that recorder after Emma had kissed him – it had sat on those bookshelves for five days, running continuously in the study on the landing. He was fortunate it was such an old, robust thing. Even without attention it had continued diligently fulfilling his purpose, and his only regret was that it had run out of tape after a day and a half.

But in that time, it had caught enough.

Having wound the tape to this point so many times, Killian stopped it once more and let the noises trickle out.

A rustle of fabric, something scratching on old floors. A faint, but tangible sigh.

‘Killian?’

Emma, again. Killian shut his eyes. He let the sound wash over him.

‘Killian?’

There was nothing for a minute or so here, but Killian left it running. They all needed time to process it, and together they listened to the soft sounds of Brooke House murmuring quietly. Ancient wood groaned, the stairs told the bannister that someone was coming, the wind pushed doors open and closed them. But eventually, reverently, they heard her speak again.

‘Yesterday, I dreamed…’

She hissed out a breath. Her voice was quiet, and terribly sad. Killian’s heart seized to hear it, because he knew it was his Emma. This voice wasn’t rich with delighted, dark secrets. It was hollow and resigned and a breath of condensation across frosted glass.

‘I don’t know where I am. I thought I heard your voice.’

Something fluttered, possibly the pages of a book. Then there was only silence.

Killian knew this quiet stretched the tape for a few hours, so again he tapped his finger to fast forward, until they could hear her speak again.

‘It’s – it’s the car. I don’t want to see it anymore. Is David there?’

David dropped heavily down into a seat at the dining table. The Emma on tape continued, oblivious.

‘I thought I heard your voice. We have to finish it. It’s…’ Something scratched loudly, and the four in the kitchen winced at the sudden volume of the sound. ‘Killian? Is that you? I’m so cold. I –’

The recorder clicked, sputtered and stopped. It had reached the end of the tape.

Then they waited.

It had been enough to convince David; it had been more than enough for Regina to let go of her scepticism about whether Emma needed rescuing. For Killian, it had lit a fire under him. Not only was Emma, their Emma, trapped in Brooke House somehow, but she was cognizant. He had seen it. In those breathless few seconds after their lips had touched, his Emma had bled through like a blot of ink stretching across paper, and she had asked after him.

Now he intended to answer.

But they couldn’t do it without Mary Margaret, not if they needed what he thought they did – three pairs of eyes turned to look at her.

Killian was unsurprised to notice she was crying. Her shoulders shook, and she did not resist David when his hand came over to rest atop hers. In fact, she curled open her palm and allowed him to thread their fingers together as she let out a tremulous breath, her eyes misty and fighting for clarity.

“Please tell me this isn’t real.” She sounded as miserable as she looked.

“It’s real,” Regina answered.

“Our girl is in there,” David urged. “We have to get her out.”

With her free hand, Mary Margaret furiously wiped her face with the back of it. When she spoke, her voice cracked. “How?”

Killian brushed a finger across the edge of the tape recorder, and for a wild moment considered rewinding it and letting it play again just so he could hear her voice.

“The ritual. The same one we started five years ago.”

It had always bothered Killian, had niggled in the back of his mind for years. If the sole purpose of that ritual had been summoning a malevolent spirit in order to control its power, then why had Liam Jones allowed himself to become embroiled in it? Liam was honesty, integrity, and fierce loyalty. It didn’t add up.

“It was never about bringing something evil out – I should have recognised the signs the moment I came back, but I was too busy thinking about Brooke House now to worry about then.” Turning abruptly to the coffee table, Killian plucked a pen and ripped a page from a notebook that had been lying there and brought it back to the dining table. On it, he carefully sketched the five-pointed star he had drawn into the floorboards at Brooke House. “History lesson. One of the earliest known uses of the pentagram is actually as a Christian symbol – its points are supposed to represent the five wounds of Christ.

“Then, as time goes on, you start to see a rise in occult practices, and they pretty much liberally borrow as much symbolism as possible from anywhere they can. Particularly the pentagram – which, if you turn around –” Killian swivelled the image so the tip of the star was pointing down, and the two points jutted out upwards. “—Has been known to represent the two horns of Satan, here. The rejection of heaven and all things spiritual. That’s what I thought I was looking at when I saw it needed to be in the ritual.” He’d spent a few days absorbed in old library books, researching what Liam had written down and left in his toolbox.

He had allowed himself to be influenced by Belle Gold, by all the talk of evil, and as a result had only bothered with one interpretation of the symbol – which was reductive, and a potentially fatal error.

“But way, way before all of that, you have its uses in Taoism, with Pythagoras and the Greeks, in early iterations of paganism. Some perceive it as a representation of the elements, but most agree that it’s about balance. It’s perfection in mathematics, the human body, words; it makes its uses in religious ritual and magic basically inevitable. But by the time the pagan revival begins – well, mostly a re-invention or re-construction of older practices – it’s become so strongly associated with malevolence and Satanism that it’s a little difficult to adopt as a symbol of faith. So, what do you do?”

Killian grinned.

“You turn it the right way up and draw a big fat circle around it.”

He rotated the paper again, so the single point was facing upwards and drew a circle around its points, connecting each one.

“It’s a different symbol. It’s what most modern wicca practices call a pentacle, it’s supposed to represent a physical object used in ceremonial evocation – the act of calling upon a spirit – for protection. It’s a talisman. Liam wanted the circle made from salt, which is a common ingredient in purification spells. There are candles at each point to give energy, but –”

“You should have left one unlit,” Regina cut across him, eyes widening once she’d put the pieces together.

“Exactly.”

David and Mary Margaret, for their part, looked entirely nonplussed by the turn of the conversation. Killian winced internally – perhaps he’d spilt out the word magic a few too many times for them.

David blinked. “What – what are you talking about?”

“One candle should have been unlit to let energy out,” Killian explained. “This isn’t a ritual for summoning or capturing a demon. It’s a ritual for banishing one.”

Mary Margaret dropped her head in her hands.

“Years. Years of therapy. All undone in a single evening.”

“Did you hear her?” Killian pressed, tapping the tape recorder emphatically. “Did you hear her calling out for us? She said it herself. We need to finish this. There’s no moving past it until we do.”

“I can’t. I just – I can’t.”

Killian could feel frustration mounting, but David laid a hand on his arm before he could burst out something furious and likely detrimental to their cause. They could attempt the ritual without Mary Margaret, but without a person sat at every point of the pentacle the spell would be weaker. It had to be her – there was no one else.

“Mary Margaret,” David began. He shifted his chair a little closer. “Mary Margaret.”

Miserably, she raised her head, hands clasped on the back of her neck.

“I think you need a little of something that you used to give all of us,” he smiled. “Hope.”

Her eyes welled with fresh tears, and Mary Margaret shook her head. “Hope – hurts.”

“Only when we give it up.” To Killian’s surprise, it was Regina who had spoken, pushing away from the wall to stand at Mary Margaret’s shoulder. “I thought I could bury this beneath the way the world had opened up. That it was the price for new eyes.” She locked eyes with Killian, offered him a nod of understanding. “I was wrong. And… I’m sorry. We should have supported each other, stayed together.”

“Regina’s right,” Killian continued. “And this is on me, too. I should have been here. I shouldn’t have missed… everything I missed.”

He had missed the service for Emma, he had missed old Henry Mills’ passing, he had missed David and Mary Margaret going their separate ways, he had missed the coda of their friendship with Regina, he had missed Archie leaving town, he had missed the library closing its doors for the last time, he had missed, he had missed, he had missed.

Killian had thought leaving Storybrooke was the best decision he had ever made; that without Emma, all that was left was walking in the dust.

Admitting that he had spent five years missing Storybrooke was like releasing a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

“Emma needs us,” David urged, taking one of Mary Margaret’s hands in his own. “One last time. All of us – together.”

They were all pieces of the same, scattered glass. Some edges sharp, some smooth. All Killian knew was the completed image was soft and golden, and he ached for it so harshly and so tenderly that he couldn’t bear it if the night ended any other way.

Mary Margaret took a steadying breath.

Her fingers clasped around David’s.

“Hope,” she said, and it settled it.

They were doing this.

-/-

The sky above Main Street was a deep, midnight blue, the winking light of stars only clearly visible if you fixed your gaze on it for longer than a few seconds. All appeared still, other than the stirring of crisp and deadened leaves in an unhurried brush down the road, and long shadows cast by the bronze streetlights were black in the way the sky should have been.

In the corner of Killian’s eye, everything seemed to shift. Every few metres it felt like something flashed at the edge of his vision, just out of sight, daring him to turn and look, trying to pull them from their singular focus of getting to the edge of town as quickly as possible. He was sure it was Brooke House. The dagger felt cool against his chest from the inside of his jacket. How did Emma put it? Testing the boundaries? Stretching her limits? A spectre at the edge of Main Street, a shadow at the end of David’s bed.

He could feel her all around them watching, waiting, trying to deter them from coming any closer. Perhaps she knew of their intent. Streetlights flickered overhead, and the groan of steel scarring tarmac could be heard distantly.

Killian felt so exposed. The others had huddled in close, walking swiftly as a unit – maybe they could feel it too.

He was so involved in wondering after the otherworldly, that the reality of a car pulling up beside them didn’t even register until the occupant was already climbing out. The door slammed definitively, purposefully, and it drew them to a halt. Once Killian had identified who now stood there in the gloom, features lit by the fading amber light of the street, he let out a string of murmured expletives.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before the whole gang was back together again,” Sheriff Graham Humbert growled, his voice as melodic and dangerous as it had been when Killian was just seventeen, frightened, and exhausted beyond belief on the night that had started it all.

Killian fought to keep his voice level. “It’s been a long time, Humbert.”

“Long enough that you’re ready to finally give me the truth?”

“Graham,” Regina began quietly, and it was the way her tongue curled around Graham, it was the intimacy of it, the sheer fact that they were on a first name basis that sent Killian’s mind into a tailspin, cataloguing a few more ways the town had continued to tick without him.

They were all adults now, weren’t they? So why not? Why not Graham?

Because he didn’t like it.

“Don’t,” Humbert said shortly. “So where is it you’re off too? The ravine, maybe?”

He looked older than when Killian had seen him last. He had only just been elected the month before Emma had disappeared, gruff but bright-faced and enthusiastic about his future turning over small town misdemeanours. Then he had been thrown into a missing-persons-assumed-murder case, and nothing about Storybrooke had felt small anymore. Had Emma’s disappearance given him those lines, pulled taut at the corner of his eyes? Could the unhappy curve to his mouth, the adamant line of his jaw, be because of Emma, too?

He had only wanted to find Emma, it was all any of them had wanted. On any of the countless nights Killian had lain awake, unable to dream of anything but the night that Emma had vanished, could Graham Humbert possibly have been doing the same?

Not to mention his instincts were correct. The four of them did know something more about it than what they had told him. It must have churned him up inside to know that, and not be able to do a single thing about it.

“We’re going for a drink,” Mary Margaret offered, and she surprised Killian with the smoothness of the lie. “Just old friends catching up.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Humbert snapped. His badge glittered in the dim light. “You were up to something then, and you’re up to something now.” He folded his arms. “I’d like to invite all of you to come down to the station and have a chat, seeing as you’ve got the time.”

At the end of the street, a bulb blew in a shower of orange sparks. Glass rained musically down onto the sidewalk. Killian thought he saw the flutter of white fabric dart around the corner.

Watching, waiting, daring.

“We don’t have time for this,” Regina muttered. “Step aside, Graham.”

“Fine, go. I’ve got no problem with it. The way you all look tonight,” Humbert stared at each of them in turn, scathingly, “I have a feeling you’ll lead me straight to her.”

He had only ever wanted to find Emma. That, Killian reminded himself, they had in common.

Movement flickered at the edge of his vision, and for a moment Killian was certain once he turned his head he’d see another spectre of Emma, dirty white and terrible, but it was David, David had surged forward and his fist was swinging and Killian heard the crack of Humbert’s head hitting the sidewalk before his eyes had even processed that he was witnessing his crumpled form falling backwards. Out cold.

David was hissing with pain, shaking out his hand and wincing.

The other three were blinking, astonished.

“Sorry,” he offered to Humbert’s motionless form. Then, turning to the others and noticing their expressions, he suddenly grew defensive. “We’re in a hurry, aren’t we?”

Inside a convenience store, a radio burst to life. The scattered notes of Only You could be heard scratching across the quiet street.

Killian narrowed his eyes. Yes, they were.

The four of them stepped carefully around Humbert, and continued their brisk journey into the night.

Given their intent, Killian had half expected for Brooke House to be gone by the time they got there, like when they had returned on the first night to look for Emma. After the ritual they had scattered into the trees, tearing off in different directions to try and find where she might have gone, voices hoarse with their continued calls out for her. By the time they had returned to the site of the house to regroup, faithfully following the trail of Killian’s orange string, it had gone. Taking Regina’s Ouija board, Mary Margaret’s scarf, David’s Apollo chocolate bar wrapper and Emma with it. A piece of all of them lost to the maw – some bigger than others. It had feasted on what it could and disappeared into the night.

Perhaps, Killian thought, as he stared at its broad foundations, the beckoning creek of its front door, the gasping cavern of its insides, it looked at them all like an unfinished meal.

It waited, it watched, and it dared them closer to finish them for good.

Killian’s hand tightened on the hilt of the dagger.

Emma needed them. And she had waited long enough.

As one, he and Regina stormed up the steps and headed inside. Behind him, he could hear Mary Margaret whimper, the urgent, hushed tones from David pushing her forward, but he paid them no mind. They each had a job to do here – this was his. Regina immediately pulled out a black marker and began tracing the shape of the pentacle on the floor, while Killian rummaged in the rucksack they had brought for the salt. He started sprinkling it in a perfect circle around the edges, and it wasn’t long before David had coerced Mary Margaret through into the sitting room. She had her palms over her eyes, as if by not looking at the aged walls of the house she might not have to acknowledge she was stood there.

Something crashed upstairs. David and Mary Margaret jerked towards the sound, the latter dropping her hands. Killian and Regina exchanged grim looks.

“It knows,” she said.

“Get the candles.”

There were other loud bangs of protest, like the sudden opening and slamming of doors, and at every noise it brought the four of them closer together, until Killian could feel Mary Margaret’s small hand clutching tightly to his upper arm. He spared her the briefest of glances – in the gloom she looked completely pale, but her features were set into something determined. The house could screech and moan, but she would not be so easily spooked anymore.

This was the girl he remembered. The one who could be both; afraid, and brave.

Killian fumbled with the matches, but not a single one would light. Killian stuck his finger into the packet and found, bafflingly, that the tip of every match was damp, even though they had been tucked away in his pocket. With irritation Killian thought of the damp wall and the wallpaper, and he thought he could hear laughter. It might have been the wind whistling past broken glass, but it was something.

“Here,” David said. He’d pulled a lighter from his pocket.

At four of the five points they set a lit candle, and at the fifth they set a final one – unlit, for the release of energy they had intended. Quickly they took their places behind a flickering flame, leaving the gap between Killian and David where Emma had sat all those years ago.

Killian’s pulse raced, his heart felt jagged and stuttered; hope, that treacherous notion, couldn’t help but imagine that at the end of all this, she might once again be sitting there.

“Ah,” came an icy voice from over his shoulder. Killian shut his eyes, knowing who it was at once. “You finally brought my dagger.”

“Ignore her,” Killian said firmly, refusing to turn around, but the others weren’t paying attention to him. Their stares, slack-jawed and stupefied, were fixed on the phantom that had just entered the room.

David’s voice was hoarse. “Emma?”

“David,” Killian barked. “Take Mary Margaret’s hand.”

“David,” Emma’s voice was honeysuckle and thick. “David, it’s me. Come on, come away from there. It’s time to go, don’t you think?”

Mary Margaret snatched his hand from where it had been hovering near her, and in a daze, David turned his head back towards her.

“Look at me,” she said, fiercely. “My eyes. Only.” David looked torn. “That is not our girl.”

“David,” Emma sang. His shoulders tense, but he did not turn to look at her again. Instantly, Emma’s tone turned nasty. “Get out.”

Killian didn’t care for ceremony anymore; he didn’t care for the weight of it all, for the ritual, for the sense of preserving the past – he felt like he had spent his entire adult life consecrating devastation. Regina’s hand was tight in his, their incomplete circle ready and waiting. The candle flames danced backwards and forwards, and Killian used his spare hand to pull the dagger from his coat pocket.

There was a loud hiss from behind him, like the hum of a cooped-up predator, and something ice cold and hard swung in front of him and gripped his throat.

Killian gasped.

Mary Margaret screamed.

He felt the air being squeezed from his windpipe, the dig of Emma’s nails into his skin so harsh he was sure they must’ve drawn blood –

With effort, Killian raised his hand –

And flung the dagger into the centre of the circle.

The effect was instantaneous. Emma released him immediately and wailed, something loud and drastic and terrible, as the air began to crackle. There was no slow build up this time, a steady gathering of wits as the room began to take in its breath, there was just the rumble of distant thunder, the storm they made to summon forming as suddenly as a tornado. The wind howled through the cracked windows; one of them shattered under the force of it and carried shards of glass towards them, hurtling around them with great speed.

Through the gap between Killian and David, Emma had stumbled backwards into the middle of the circle, and her eyes were black and furious. Right in front of them, she began to curl in on herself but it was impossible, her back had bent at a right angle and the contortions were too much, too strange, that his brain tried to tell Killian that it wasn’t happening at all. The wind whipped away her crown of flowers until it disintegrated, and her mouth gaped open in a silent scream, wide, wider, a yawning arc of darkness.

Something sharp dug into Killian’s cheek – glass, he thought, helplessly – and he reached up his free hand to try and shield himself. Mary Margaret and Regina had their eyes tightly shut, expressions scrunched up with pain and Regina’s lips were moving, but Killian couldn’t hear anything over the roar in his ears.

That was when the lightning struck.

In unison, arcs of obsidian light latched onto both the centre of Emma’s chest and the dagger, tying the two together like an ugly, pulsing artery. Again it flashed, this time onto her back, and again, her left hand, again, her right, until Emma was entirely obscured from view by the opaque jet of the zephyr.

This was where they had lost Emma before – she had thrown herself into the centre of the storm.

Killian tensed, maybe – maybe –

Regina’s hand tightened on his, as if sensing the direction of his thoughts.

Not a chance, it said, and gripped even harder.

Instead he yelled out into the darkness.

“Emma!”

The only response was rage – the door to the sitting room swung off its hinges, dropping heavily onto the floor. The wallpaper was ripped to shreds. A hole the size of a fist splintered into the floorboards behind him. Even so, on hearing him, the others took up the call – screaming for Emma to come through, to break free, to take her place in their circle and complete them.

“I know you’re in there!” Killian hollered, and his throat felt hoarse but he needed to make himself heard. “Emma, you can do it!”

And then – and then – he saw her.

Not the twisted, luminous Emma that the house had been showing him, but Emma, their Emma, staring out from the centre of the tornado. Through jets of black lighting he could see her, eyes wide, palms facing upward as if waiting for the rain to come, her mouth open in a cry that he couldn’t hear.

He couldn’t hear it, but he could see it. When she locked eyes with him her mouth formed the same words that had haunted him from the minute they’d first been ripped from her.

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

Not this time.

Killian wrenched his hand free.

“No!” Regina cried.

If you have to have someone, he thought, furiously, then have me.

Killian hurtled in after her.

For a moment, everything was blindingly white, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Then he felt the touch of her hand.

It all fell quiet.

There was – nothing.

-/-

His heart was still beating. That was something, he supposed.

Behind his eyelids the light had dimmed, but it was still bright. That was how he knew it was no longer night. The air felt damp, and cold, and smelled faintly of wet moss and pine. The ground beneath his feet felt soft and earthy, and experimentally he wiggled his toes inside his boots. Obligingly, something squelched. Somewhere, a sparrow trilled.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. About a metre in front of him the ground gave way, dropping hundreds of feet below him in stacked and uneven layers of rock, grass and sediment. A distant roar sounded from beneath him, and pitching himself forward a little he could see the crash of the river against the edges of the rockface.

He was standing at the edge of the ravine, he realised. The ravine that Liam had driven into.

“This is what it does,” Emma said from beside him. “It makes you relive all your worst moments.”

His hand was tucked into hers, not unpleasantly. Their shoulders brushed.

“Where am I?”

In the distance something screeched, and he and Emma turned their heads towards the sound. Belatedly, he realised it was the exhausted brakes of a car accompanied by the rumble of an engine, and a wave of nausea began to rise within him. The harshness of the sounds felt dissonant with the relative peace above the ravine, but as Killian turned his eyes to the right he could remember how it had looked in the days that followed. It had rained heavily that afternoon, the police report had indicated that had wiped away most of the evidence, and everywhere mud had been churned over and over, plants ripped from their roots. But at this moment everything was still, undisturbed.

The sound of the motor grew louder.

Killian couldn’t remember how to breathe. He began to feel the light patter of rain on the back of his neck.

Not this, he begged, not this. I don’t want to see this.

“It’s alright,” Emma said, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’ll be here.”

Then the trees exploded.

Liam’s old Mustang burst through the shrub, and although Killian was anxious not to see it, he couldn’t tear his eyes away, tried to fix his gaze on every single detail in the impossibly short space of time between the car careening from the forest and tipping over the edge of the ravine. It was like watching it in slow motion. The windshield had already cracked in two places, and the Mustang swerved dangerously to the left – attempting to wrench itself to rightness before it was too late, but it was too late – and when Killian finally felt brave enough to look into the cabin, he realised something else with a chilling rush of dread.

Liam was not alone in the car.

Someone else – something else – had two hands on the wheel, and Liam was wrestling for control. Acting purely on instinct Killian surged forward, but Emma’s grip on his hand held him back. He knew, with the certainty that you knew things in dreams, that nothing he could do would be able to stop it.

Then he blinked, and Liam was alone in the car, and the Mustang had hurtled over the edge of the cliff. For a few seconds, the forest had earnt back its stillness.

Then, with an almighty crash that made the ground beneath him shake, the Mustang hit the surface of the water.

Killian couldn’t bring himself to look over the edge. On the cliff, just metres from where Killian now stood, someone else watched the car disappear beneath the walls. It was a man – or no, was it a man, his skin looked more like slick bronze, glittering like the scales of a fish – and then he was gone.

Killian reminded himself to breathe in, and breathe out. Emma reached across and brushed tears away from his cheek with a gentle finger, which was how he realised he had been crying. He clutched her other hand tightly in his own.

He couldn’t speak, and mercifully Emma didn’t seem to expect him to. It could have been minutes that they stood there together, breathing in, breathing out, or it could have been hours. It might not have been more than a few seconds. Somewhere, a sparrow trilled again. Killian began to feel a splatter of rain against the back of his neck, which was how he realised it had stopped raining the first time around.

“Careful,” Emma said. “Here it comes again.”

In the distance, he heard another screech of tired brakes.

Alarmed, Killian turned – and realised the treeline looked exactly as it had when he arrived, before Liam had burst through it.

Overwhelmed by the urge to throw up, Killian bent double and retched, but nothing came out. Emma rubbed a soothing hand on his back.

Again, he watched as the Mustang crashed through the thicket, as Liam fought for control of the wheel with the strange man – the same man who stood on the cliff afterwards before vanishing into thin air, he now realised – and skidded over the edge of the ravine. The world fell apart once more as the car pounded into its final destination.

“Where am I?” Killian repeated, in between taking large gulps of air.

The scaled man on the cliff watched the car, satisfied, before disappearing completely.

“It’s hard at first,” Emma sighed. “I watched my parents abandon me on the side of the freeway, like, a thousand times.” Her hand squeezed his own. “The car pulls over, my Mom gets out, she picks me up in my blanket and puts me down. Then she gets back in and it drives away. It was like picking at a scab I thought had already healed.”

It hadn’t, though. He could have told her that. Some scars were meant to stay with you forever.

We’ve all got ghosts here.

Somewhere, a sparrow trilled. He began to feel the weak patter of rain against the back of his neck.

“I saw the kid who found me, too,” Emma added, bitterly, “his name’s August. Not that it matters now.”

In the distance, the brakes of the Mustang screeched.

Killian was finding it difficult to process what he was seeing with what he was being told.

“They say that’s the definition of insanity, right? Doing the same things over and over and expecting a different result? I waited for them to get back out, just once, to not just leave me there. But that’s what it feeds on. That hoping. The more you fight it, the more you want something else to happen when it never could, the stronger it gets.”

With a shudder, Liam’s Mustang broke the treeline again. It swerved, splattering mud across the clifftop. Liam wrestled for the wheel and the tail of the car swung out; hope shuddered to life within Killian, this time this time he would pull it back, he’d regain control, he’d turn before it –

The Mustang sped over the edge of the ravine.

“He wasn’t alone in the car,” Killian managed to get out, as his heart seized in his chest. “He didn’t – it wasn’t suicide.”

The scaled man on the cliff stared at the disappearing Mustang, and then vanished.

“That’s what the spirit of Brooke House looked like,” Emma said, nodding at where the scaled man had stood. “When it came to Liam.”

When it came to me, he wanted to cry, it looked like you.

Somewhere, a sparrow trilled. He began to feel the weak patter of rain against the back of his neck.

In the distance, the brakes of the Mustang screeched.

“It threatened you,” she continued softly. “It said it would kill you if he didn’t help the spirit escape the house.”

“But he didn’t,” Killian added, needlessly. Of course he didn’t.

He thought of the ritual, the one Liam had outlined to banish the demon, and he felt weak. Helpless to stop the chain reaction of Liam’s death – both in the weeks that had led up to it, and as witness to his final few moments as the car crashed into the ravine. He would have died on impact, the coroner had said. The body swept up by the rush of the water below, taken out to sea. Just like everyone had always said. That final, private wish that he had only whispered aloud once, that the lack of a body meant that maybe, maybe something else had happened, was finally snuffed out.

Liam had been in that car. It was small comfort to know he hadn’t done it to himself.

The Mustang thundered out of the undergrowth, swerved, screeched, and fell.

“He tried to banish it, but he was missing one key ingredient.”

Killian knew, with the certainty that you knew things in dreams, what that missing ingredient had been.

“The dagger.”

Emma nodded. “Right. After that didn’t work… he was always a dead man.”

But how had he known? How had he even thought to banish the demon? It seemed with every answer he got, a thousand more questions rose in its place.

“But the dagger… his name was on the dagger. Why didn’t he –?” Look like you?

If Liam had died in the ravine, just like they had always said he had, why was his name on the dagger?

Emma looked out across the ravine, darkly. “That’s just how it keeps score. Its victims. Liam isn’t trapped here, but I’d say he’s still a victim.”

Somewhere, a sparrow trilled. Killian began to feel the splatter of rain against his neck.

“Wouldn’t you?”

In just seconds, gone forever. Not trapped, but gone.

Trapped.

For the third time, he asked: “Where am I?”

Emma shook her head. That wasn’t the right question.

In the distance, the brakes of the Mustang squealed.

So instead, he asked: “How do we stop the demon?”

“I’ve already told you,” Emma sighed, airily enough that it felt as if he were just disturbing her at work in the library again. Her voice sounded faint. “God, don’t you ever listen?”

Listen.

With the suddenness of breathing, his hand closed on empty air where it had once been holding Emma’s. She had gone.

So had the clifftop.

It was like waking up, when you weren’t sure how long you had been asleep.

He was standing in the single room of the old apartment he shared with Liam, and he had always been standing there. It was smaller than he remembered; just the open plan kitchen-stroke-sitting room-stroke-Liam’s bedroom, attached to an even littler bedroom that had been Killian’s. The kitchenette was in the corner, dark and musty smelling, and Liam’s bed was propped against the opposite wall, impeccably made as always. There had only been room for the bare minimum of additional furniture – a chest of drawers for some of Liam’s clothes, the rest hung on a metal rack like the kind found in a shop, a moth-eaten sofa and a small, boxy handheld television plucked right from the jaws of 1994 perched atop an overturned wastepaper basket serving as a table. It was dark, lit miserably by a single window next to the sofa, and warm in the uncomfortable way that a gym was warm; lived in.

It looked so insignificant. Almost barren, certainly cheap. Nothing to be proud of.

Killian longed for it with something so profound that it was an almost physical ache. This was life before Liam had died.

A key clicked in the lock, and the front door to the flat was flung open with more force than necessary. Killian’s heart sank once he realised what he was looking at.

It makes you relive all your worst moments.

In tumbled Liam, exactly as he remembered him, and a younger Killian – twelve years old, freckled, dark hair askew, and furious.

“—So unfair!” The younger Killian was scowling. “I don’t want to move again! I just started making friends!”

Killian had forgotten what it was they had fought about – it had faded completely from his mind beyond the core sentiment, which had been bloody and foul, in the wake of everything else that had happened that day. Now it all came back to him with startling clarity.

This was the last time he had seen Liam alive.

“Well, tough,” Liam said wearily, setting a plastic bag on the counter next to the refrigerator. “We are.”

The younger Killian rounded on him angrily. “Why?”

“For work.”

“Has all the wood been chopped in Storybrooke, then?”

Liam fixed him with a withering look. “Don’t be facetious. It’s important, Killian. You just have to trust me on this.”

He had wanted them to leave town, he remembered now.

After that didn’t work… he was always a dead man.

He would have known, even then, that Brooke House was coming for them.

It struck the older Killian, then, just how tired Liam had looked – dark circles clung to the bottom of his eyes, and his skin looked stretched and pale. It also occurred to him how young he was. Liam had always been taller, older, wiser; even after he had died Killian had never thought of him any differently. Yet, here, Liam Jones was just nineteen years old – and he already been looking after the brothers Jones for years already. Killian had already outlived his brother’s unfairly short life by almost three years.

The younger Killian threw himself dramatically down onto the moth-eaten sofa. “I bet Dad wouldn’t make us move.”

Liam scowled, busying himself taking a few meagre groceries out of the bag and putting them away. “You don’t know what Dad is capable of.”

“I would if you just told me!” The younger Killian twisted on the sofa so he could look at his brother, bristling with indignation. “What is it that’s so bad? Why won’t you talk about him or Mum?” Liam kept his mouth set in a thin line. How that had infuriated him at the time. “How about you just tell me, and then I’ll go without a fuss. I’ll even pack tonight! How’s that?”

“I don’t like being held to ransom,” Liam replied tersely. The younger Killian let out a cry of frustration, delivering a swift kick to the sofa, then stormed over to his bedroom door. “And a tantrum won’t help. So long as you continue to behave like a child, I will continue to treat you like –”

The younger Killian whirled around, hand on the doorknob and eyes ablaze.

“I hate you!”

It makes you relive all your worst moments.

“I’m not finished,” Liam snapped, “don’t you walk away from me.”

The younger Killian did not listen. He stomped into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Don’t, Killian begged, come out. This is it. This is the last time.

Liam had followed him to the door, let his hand hover above the handle.

Open it, he longed, pleaded. Don’t leave it like this.

He watched Liam change his mind. He watched him pick up his car keys. He watched him curtly inform the younger Killian that he was going out for a little while, but he would be back soon. He watched him wait for the younger Killian to respond.

He did not.

Liam left the flat.

A key clicked in the lock and in again came Liam, with the younger Killian in tow.

“—So unfair!”

Like the clifftop, he was apparently doomed to watch the same moment over and over – but Killian refused. Seething, he tried to think himself into being somewhere else. He didn’t know the rules here, but somehow he had moved from the ravine to here, and if that was possible then he could move from here to somewhere that was not here.

Not this time, Killian thought furiously, no more than once.

In part instinct and in part miserable fury, Killian put his fist through the thin plaster wall.

Behind his eyes, pain exploded – but it was not from his fist. No, his wrists were smarting, burning with an agony he could not see, and someone was screaming and he thought it might be him, he was back in the sitting room at Brooke House, the storm raged, a tornado of wanting and longing and hoping and nothing ever changing, and he could feel his left hand clasped around the dagger but his right – his right –

Emma was there, and she was holding tightly onto his right hand.

She looked him squarely in the eyes. “Listen!”

He was in Granny’s Diner.

He knew this because he could hear the quiet lull of patrons around him, and the faint smell of melted cheese had begun to permeate. He could feel the hard, well-worn cushion from one of the booths beneath him, and he could still taste vanilla cake on the tip of his tongue. He knew because Emma’s arms were around his neck and she was holding him tightly, and he could feel her breath on his lips. He knew because he had lived in this moment so many times, and begged a thousand times to have ended it differently. He didn’t need a demon to do that for him

“Thank you,” Emma had said, her cheeks flushed with glorious delight (he had done that, he thought fiercely). “For always knowing exactly what I want before I do.”

“You’re…” he trailed off, because he had become distracted by the bright and welcome jade of her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

All it would take was moving himself closer just an inch. He was suddenly conscious of his hand on the side of her hip, of his desire to move it further around until it brushed her spine, to use it to tug her to him, bridging the final distance between them. Her lips looked soft and pliant, a rosy pink that had spent their lives shaping around his favourite words in the entire world, because everything she said was a gift, and he loved her, God, he loved her, he loved her so much.

The jagged beat of Only You was rattling from the jukebox in the corner, and Killian Jones wanted to kiss Emma Swan more than he had ever wanted anything.

He could feel her unsteady breathing, rising and falling against his chest, and he was sure her pulse would be racing to match his – but fear gripped him. What if she didn’t want this? What if it scared her as much as it bloody terrified him? If he leaned forward and she didn’t meet him halfway he didn’t think he could bear it. He hesitated

He hesitated –

He always hesitated when it was important –

It makes you relive all your worst moments.

Killian had sailed past this moment more times than he could count, he didn’t need a ghost to remind him of all the roads not taken. For the last five years, Only You had been the song he had almost kissed Emma Swan too, days before he had lost her forever. In that moment, he couldn’t think of anything worse than watching himself, feeling himself not doing it over and over for eternity when that had been his only chance.

That’s what it feeds on. That hoping. The more you fight it, the more you want something else to happen when it never could, the stronger it gets.

Is this what Emma had done, for five years? Replay over and over the worst possible pockets of time it could think to show her, wishing ardently for something to be different, praying desperately for some hope of rescue. He thought back to the tape recorder – she had sounded lost, confused. Defeated. Trapped in an unending limbo of nothing ever changing.

It had to stop today.

How do we stop the demon?

Listen.

Emma’s eyes flickered to his lips, he felt her swaying dangerously forward. The air smelt of burnt toast, vanilla sponge and anticipation, and Killian felt untouchable.

Only You trickled out from the jukebox in the corner.

“‘Looking from a window above, it’s like a story of love… Can you hear me?’”

Killian froze.

That song had been following him around for days.

Piss off, ghost.

A taunt, he had thought. A wretched reminder of everything he had almost had. But what if it wasn’t?

I’ve already told you. God, don’t you ever listen?

The tape recorder was proof, Emma had the ability to bleed through the machinations of the demon, to touch her surroundings cautiously, gently, from inside her void of almosts and never-have-beens, and she had been hurling this moment into his path ever since he returned to town.

Maybe something in it had to change.

But if you fight it, Killian thought furiously, that only makes the demon stronger. So what was he supposed to do?

Emma’s arms tightened almost imperceptibly around his neck.

In the space of a steadying breath, he allowed himself another long look at her. Pretty, dainty eyelashes, but fierce and warm eyes of jade, capable of spitting fire and turning his insides into something weak and wanting. Her lips were parted and daring him closer, and as he entertained the thought of leaning in his heart hammered against his ribcage. God, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her more than anything.

The future was only sky. They had all the time in the world.

So maybe he didn’t fight it.

He didn’t want to, not anymore. He was so, so tired of fighting his way through life, Mary Margaret had lauded him over his stamina but that’s not what it was, not really, he just couldn’t remember what life had been like before he’d needed to throw up his fists. So he decided he was done with all that. If giving up meant he could live in the sensation of her breath on his lips, of their almost and their never-have-been, in that half a second before they decided no, then he would happily give up on life outside of this oblivion.

“‘All I needed was the love you gave…’”

Because almost kissing Emma, he decided, was so much better than living in a world where he hadn’t done it.

If you have to have someone, he thought, have me.

It was like waking up, when you didn’t know how long you had been asleep for. Suddenly mobility was possible, and he could feel his own chest rising and falling unevenly, aware of his own breath in a way that made it feel like he hadn’t been breathing before. Once he realised with awe that he could move it, he lifted a trembling hand up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, cupping her face with the other. As his pulse raced, he just wanted to be sure that she was real.

“Emma,” Killian said, and his voice sounded far away. His thumbs brushed across the shells of her cheeks. “I’d very much like to kiss you now.”

Emma grinned, and he realised she was crying.

“You fucking better.”

Instantly, Killian surged forward.

It was everything he had hoped it would be. Emma was warm, soft, eager, and mimicking the same little sighs he could hear escaping through his own lips – kissing Emma was like kissing air. It was tightness in the top of his stomach; it was saturated mornings under the oaks; it was winter at the door, brushing its feet on the mat; it was the final ten seconds before the whistle blew in a championship game when all that was left was that startling, adrenaline-pumping hope. Kissing Emma was a race that he had been training his entire life for.

Everything was noise.

Wind surged, static hummed, someone screamed but still Killian resisted; he was determined to inhabit this moment, this second, if this was the rest of his life then he didn’t intend to stray too far. If it was just the space of a single exhale then he would breathe out, and he would breathe out, and he would learn to go without oxygen because as far as he was concerned, there was no other possible choice he could make. He heard someone calling his name. A hand scrambled at the hem of his jacket. Something fizzled like a power line coming loose and he could hear the sound of glass shattering –

Emma pulled away.

He could still feel her hands in his hair, though. That had to be something. He kept his eyes tightly shut.

He was cold, and he could smell the forest. Dry leaves crunched underneath a boot. He tasted only velvet, mist, and Emma.

“Killian,” she said softly.

Killian shook his head. He didn’t want the dream to end.

“Killian, you can open your eyes.”

Reluctantly, he did as he was bid. He was standing in the middle of a familiar patch of forest, his hands tracing the edge of Emma’s face – because she was here, and she was solid, and there wasn’t a lot else he cared about other than that – it had to be the middle of the night, as the sky overhead was a black curtain pulled taut, specks of light barely visible scattered across it. The earth looked black beneath his boots but he knew from the crackle underfoot that in daylight it would be a watercolour pad of New England autumn, but that didn’t make his being there any less disorienting.

“Where did – how did we get out here?”

Was that – Regina?

“Oh, oh – Emma!”

Killian felt the wind knocked out of him as someone came crashing into the side of he and Emma, throwing their arms around them – David? – and again they swayed dangerously, but this time someone was crushing him from behind and someone was crying and eventually his knees buckled and they were all tumbling down onto the forest floor. It was haphazard and dizzying, but he recognised their hearts just as clearly as his own; all relief, all love, all fierce, fierce joy.

Emma was clinging to David while he sobbed into her shoulder, and Mary Margaret was holding on tightly from behind and speaking in such a floundering, nonsensical babble that nobody had any idea what she was saying. Killian was dazed, and more than a little confused, but blisteringly happy. He had no idea what had just happened, but since this was the outcome he had been praying for, he chose not to dwell on it.

Regina clapped a hand onto his shoulder, and he spotted her wiping something from the corner of her eye that looked suspiciously like emotion.

“It’s over.”

-/-

Brooke House was gone.

That was what they had managed to surmise after they had finally been able to disentangle from each other. It wasn’t that they had been transported to some other location, it was that the house itself had vanished around them, leaving them sprawled in the dirt feeling more than a little shaken and more than a little relieved. The ritual had worked, they had banished the demon, and the only evidence it had ever been there at all was in their story shared, their hard-won memories, and a curving, silver dagger stabbed blade first into the earth. A close inspection revealed its edge to be flat and smooth. No names. Just a dagger. They left it there, buried in the soil. They were finished with it now.

Killian had tried more than once to explain what had happened after he’d hurtled into the storm after Emma, not just to the others but to himself – but Emma had laced their fingers together and she looked so paralyzingly pained and sweet and sad that he had stopped trying. Some things were easier not to explain.

She hadn’t spoken much on the way back, just tucked herself tiredly into Killian’s side and dropped her head against his shoulder. She was wearing the same outfit she had disappeared in, which made her look oddly like something stitched together from different times – she was a woman now, wearing the old, worn, coat and boots of a girl. David had attached himself to her other side, putting a strong arm around her shoulders and occasionally patting her hair, murmuring tender reassurances and kissing her forehead.

Killian knew how he felt. He thought he might have a panic attack if he had to let go of her hand.

Somehow, they had done it. The demon was gone and so was Brooke House, and Emma had been given back to them.

She had been amazed to discover she had been gone for five years.

“I’ll go to the sheriff station first thing,” Emma said, nodding her head like it would settle everything. “Clear your names.”

Regina looked unconvinced. “I’m not sure that’ll do it.” The fact that David had punched Humbert in the jaw was just now coming back to them, and Killian couldn’t help but agree.

“Why not?” Emma argued hotly. Then she pointed at herself. “Missing girl. No longer missing. Case closed, right?”

Killian squeezed her hand. “We don’t have to settle anything now.”

For now she was here, and it was enough.

As they turned onto Main Street he felt Emma begin to tremble, her shoulders shaking underneath David’s arm. Whether it was fear or relief or anticipation or a combination of all three, Killian couldn’t tell, but after he had asked her she reluctantly revealed that where she really wanted to go was to the Nolan house; to Ruth.

David turned away to hide a fresh wave of overwhelmed, happy tears, but Emma’s attention was fixed on Killian.

She rounded so she was in front of him, her free hand fisted into the lapel of his jacket.

“I want to see Ruth,” she said, looking agitated, “but I –”

She cut herself off, stared fixedly into his eyes. Willed him to understand.

I don’t want to be away from you.

Something warm bloomed in his chest.

“I’m staying at Granny’s,” he offered with a smile. “You could – after. If you want.”

I love you I love you I love you I love

“No, he’s not,” Regina cut in. “He’s staying with me.” When they all turned to look at her she bristled, adding lamely: “I’ll… make lasagne.”

Emma laughed and it was such a beautiful sound. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I want.”

By the time dawn had kissed the sky with streaks of pink and orange, that offer had become too tempting for any of them to resist. Regina and Killian had immediately decided sleep was impossible and had started depleting her stores of homemade cider to try and relax their nerves and carry them until morning. They talked about nothing at all, and although Killian could tell Regina was desperate to ask about what they had done, what he might have seen, itching for a chance to make a comparison to her book of spells, Killian did not give her the opportunity to do so. There would be time for all of that.

An hour or so in, Mary Margaret had arrived at the door. Wordlessly, she had proffered a bottle of Jose Cuervo, and they had invited her inside.

The sky was just beginning to brighten when David and Emma returned, which was how they now found themselves laid out on the floor of Regina’s sitting room, gorged on the perfect lasagne and mellowed by fatigue and Jose, watching the sun come up through the tall, French windows.

Emma was curled in Killian’s lap, her legs slung across his and her head resting against his chest, listening to the steady gallop of his heart. He very much wanted to kiss her again – hell, he wasn’t even sure he had kissed her the first time. But there would be time for all of that, too.

Everything was bathed in golden light. Regina was dozing on a sofa, David and Mary Margaret were talking earnestly in hushed, gentle voices, their foreheads touching. Killian was struck by something so right, so definite, that he wasn’t sure anything he had experienced since Emma had disappeared had been real. This was so clearly how everything was supposed to be that it was inconceivable to imagine it had been any other way.

“Thank you,” Emma murmured against his chest. She lifted her head up so their eyes met. They were a soft storm of emerald, rimmed with a tired scarlet edge along her eyelashes. “For not giving up.”

I love you, her fingers curled into the worn leather of his jacket, danced a pattern across his chest. Tapped a beat to match his aching heart. He could hear her. I love you.

“How could I?” he replied. “You know where Archie hides the good snacks.”

She kissed him in the dusty light of morning, and it chased the last of his ghosts away, out into the dawn.

-/-

A/N: if you made it this far - THANK YOU! I am honestly so grateful for all of the support I received for this fic, it was my first try at writing something kinda horror/spooky and I’m really proud of how it came out. I’ve honestly been blown away by some of the comments I’ve got, I am SO happy, you guys are so awesome and I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed it so far - it’s been a pleasure to make your hearts race and keep you up at night!

I’ll be posting a short epilogue on Wednesday, so keep an eye out for that! for now, turrah, and thank you so much! <3

#jay writes #a house is never still #cs role reversal #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #cs au #cs halloweek #killian jones #emma swan #enjoy all!

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