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lnfours · 1 month

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* ✰. — labyrinth | l.n

summary: as @arieslost would say, “the friends to lovers connoisseur is back”! lando is the best listener, you’ve had a shitty day, and he’s the one who makes it all better.

warnings: i’ve been listening to a lot of midnights recently so this is inspired by labyrinth by taylor swift. university student!reader, friends to lovers if you didn’t get it by now, tooth rotting fluff, pining, longing, maybe swear words, talks about mental health and overall lando being the sweetest, kindest soul, trash writing.

masterlist | listen

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you walked out of the building your lecture was held in, taking a deep breath as you tried not to think about the overwhelming amount of stress that was slowly taking a toll on your mind and body. you hadn’t been sleeping much, too focused on your studies. it seemed like every time you finished a project, you got a new one thrown at you. it was all starting to pile up, you weren’t sure when you were going to break but you knew it was coming.

the sun was setting as you noticed the mclaren sitting in the parking lot, lando leaning against the hood of the car. you smiled softly at the sight of him, clad in a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses. he had texted you and told you he was back for a short break between races and that he was going to pick you up after class, but seeing him in the flesh sent electricity through your body. you were fighting the urge to run straight into his arms, but you did however pick up the pace of your walk as you neared him.

he smiled up from his phone as he heard your footsteps approaching, shoving it back into his pocket before he was pulling you into his arms. you let out a sigh as your head rested on his shoulder, taking in the smell of him. he smelled like his aftershave and cologne, mixed with the scent from his shampoo and laundry detergent. he smelt like home.

he pulled away from the tight embrace, noticing the slight lack of energy from your usual loud and bubbly personality, which he loved. he raised an eyebrow at you before he opened his mouth to speak, “you okay?”

you nodded, “just tired.”

he nodded back at you, “hungry? we can stop and get something,”

you shook your head, just ready to be back home. he nodded at your silent answer, moving to take the backpack from you before he opened the passenger side door for you. he shut the door behind you before shoving your heavy bag in the back, climbing in on his own side.

the car ride to your shared off campus housing was silent other than the music softly playing from the speakers. the playlist had consisted of songs you had mentioned to him that you thought he’d like, but you didn’t have the energy to ask him about them. you leaned against the window, watching the trees pass by you as he neared closer to your home.

he took several quick glances your way, noticing how quiet you were. something wasn’t right and he wasn’t sure what it was. surely it wasn’t because of him, was it? had he messed something up? forgetting about something? he wasn’t sure. but he was going to get to the bottom of it, that was for sure.

he placed a gentle hand on your thigh, “you sure you’re not hungry?”

you shook your head, “i had lunch before class, but thank you.”

he nodded, “sure.”

he pulled up in front of your house, grabbing your bag from the backseat before you made your way into the house. your roommates were in the living room, smiling saying hello to the both of you. they were glad to see he was back, even if it was just for a short time. they knew how much he meant to you, even if he only saw you as a friend.

“we’re gonna order a pizza, you guys want any?” lily, your blonde roommate asked. you looked at lando who shrugged his shoulders.

“i’m good,” he smiled softly, “thanks though.”

they nodded back at the two of you before letting you climb the stairs. you led him down the hallway to the back of the house where your room sat, pushing the door open before plopping down onto the bed and kicking your shoes off. he closed the door behind him, placing your bag at your desk and watching as you sat criss-cross on the bed, staring off into space. something you normally did when you had a bad day.

he knew you’d talk to him eventually, but it was killing him to see you beat yourself up like this. but nonetheless, he kicked his shoes off too and climbed onto the bed with you, pulling his hoodie off and tossing it towards the suitcase that sat in the corner of your room, the one he had dropped off before he went to pick you up.

he grabbed the tv remote from the bedside table, clicking on the tv, “movie?”

you looked up from playing with the ring on your finger, the one you always absentmindedly played with. the ring he had gotten you as a birthday present a few years ago before you went to college, a simple number four ring you always wore on your pointer finger. a subtle way to remind you that he was with you, even when he was across the globe.

you nodded, watching as he scrolled through the different apps to find one you both hadn’t seen. that’s when it slowly started to hit, your mind running a million miles a second as the silence had started making you think. making you think about all the overwhelming stress, how you put so much pressure on yourself to succeed and be the person you always wanted to be. and it felt like nothing was going to plan. it felt like you were falling behind in life compared to everyone else, like you hadn’t figured out what the missing piece to the puzzle of life was. it was exhausting.

you hadn’t noticed the tear slip down your cheeks until it landed on your hands, and then it was too late. a constant stream of warm tears falling. your uneven breathing was his silent sign to look over at you, and when he did, his heart dropped. he was quick to drop the remote and take your hand into his, the fidgeting with the ring stopping as he gently reached out to you.

“what’s the matter?” he asked softly, wiping away tears from your cheeks. you shook your head, lip trembling as you tried your hardest to hold back the sob threatening to spew from your lips. you took your free hand and wiped away the tears on your other cheek, feeling stupid. feeling like everything you had done, all the hard work, was just getting you nowhere. were you even good enough?

“i don’t know,” you finally choked out, voice breaking as you let him scoot closer, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side, “i just…”

you cut yourself off with a sigh which turned into a quiet sob. you sniffled, resting your head on his shoulder. he rubbed your back comfortingly, resting his cheek on your hair. the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses as he held you, the smell of coconut and vanilla.

“it’s okay,” he said softly, “take your time. i’m right here, ‘m not going anywhere.”

and you did. you took your time, trying to regain your composure as you rested your head on his shoulder. the smoothing circles on your back didn’t stop, the hand that had taken yours still there, his fingers tracing over the metal of your ring. his heart tugged at the sight of it on your finger and how he wished that one day he’d grow the courage to finally ask you out, and eventually put a shiny diamond on your other hand. he was positive no podium highs could ever compete with the feeling of being in love with you, as cliche as it sounded.

you had finally collected yourself enough to speak, “i feel like i’m in a losing battle.”

he looked down at you in question, letting you continue, “i feel like i’ve been on an up hill battle for so long, like i can’t win. no matter what, i turn around and i’m smacked in the face and i’m just stressed and overwhelmed and i just..”

you trailed off, letting another sigh slip from your lips, “i just feel like i’m not fit for this. like i’m not good enough for any of this, i’m just so stressed out all the time. i can’t sleep, i can’t think straight. my anxiety is at an all time high and no matter what i do i feel like nothings fucking good enough.”

he listened to every word you said, letting you vent and ramble away. something he was good at, took pride in. he was always a good listener, letting people come to him to vent and talk about anything and everything, especially you. of course he knew when to give feedback and when you were just getting things off your chest, but it pained him to hear you say you weren’t any of the things you truly were.

“what makes you think you’re not good enough?” he asked.

“no matter how much studying i do i feel like nothing sticks, like i’m reading a bunch of gibberish and none of it makes any bit of sense no matter how hard i try. and i feel like im getting nowhere, and ill stuck being the loser friend who just clings to her famous formula one driver best friend.”

he pulled away from you to turn and look at you now, your eyes meeting his. those same watercolored eyes you fell for the moment you met him. even in the dim lighting of your room, you could make out every single beauty mark and freckle that made him uniquely him. all the parts you loved about the boy sitting in front of you.

“y/n, listen to me,” he said softly, his tone not having a single trace of anger or disappointment, “you’re none of those things. you’re so unbelievably smart, definitely the smartest person i know. you belong here, you deserve everything good that’s coming your way because i know how hard you’ve worked to get here. you don’t have to have every single piece of the puzzle figured out at the moment, i definitely don’t, but please, for a second, don’t ever let someone make you doubt yourself. you’re the kindest, smartest, most beautiful person i fucking know and it kills me to know you don't see that.”

you looked at him, heart pounding against your ribs. you watched the way his eyes scanned over your face as the silence fell back over the two of you. his heart had shot up to his throat as he thought about how he had just blurted out that he thought you were beautiful. of course he did, who couldn’t? you were the definition of his ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, your smile being the one he’d break his back for just to see it light up your face in the most captivating way.

“lando,” you breathed, “you just.. called me beautiful.”

“i know,” he nodded, “because you are. i wish you could see yourself the way i see you.”

the energy had shifted, now feeling like love and longing rather than the feeling of sadness from a few moments ago. he had somehow, someway, turned your world upside down just when you felt like it was coming to end. he had turned it upside down in a good way, because here you were, sitting in front of your best friend. undeniably falling even more in love with him, if it was even possible.

without thinking, you moved forward and pressed your lips to his. the shock of the feeling of your lips on his made his brain short circuit, making you pull away when he didn’t reciprocate the kiss. your brain automatically shutting down every feeling of embarrassment as he grabbed your face back into his hands, kissing you deeply. you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you so close there was no room for air between your bodies. all the silent pining and longing paying off.

he pulled away, forehead resting on yours, nose pressed against yours. you breathed for a couple seconds, letting his lips brush against yours before you spoke, “i’m falling in love with you.”

he smiled softly, “i’ve always been in love with you.”

you smiled now, all the worries slowly starting to wash away. somehow, someway, he had managed to turn everything around. the puzzle piece no longer feeling like it was missing, a new feeling of comforting safety enveloping you.

and it was. because no matter what, no matter how uncertain life seemed, you'd always have him. and that was never going to change.

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marsmarbles · 4 months

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Speaker!Scott - The Soul Eclectic

“See how he laughs at you (Seethe as he snarls at you)

He will never understand (Watch him struggle just to stand)

A cold and bitter stance (The weaker half of man)

What a calculated, degraded hand(Watch him beg and bargain, time and time again)

See how they fight all day

The other half won’t hear what’s had to say

It’s just the game they play here in this labyrinth maze”

Tumblr really loved sapping the color out of this one. After what felt like 30 minutes of futzing I begrudgingly admit defeat.

#chained life au #speaker!scott #trafficblr #traffic life #mcyt #mcyt fanart #traffic smp #au #scott smajor #smajor1995 #chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #the soul eclectic

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recents · 8 months

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so we all know astarion was named after the minotaur of greek myth, who, despite widely known as the minotaur (“bull of minos”), was named astarion/asterion (“starry one”) by his mother at birth. asterion the minotaur was trapped in a labyrinth and cursed to devour virginal men and women thrown in there as sacrifices.

”The House of Asterion” is a 1947 short story by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges that retells the story of the minotaur from the minotaur’s point of view. it’s one of his best early short stories and it’s very short, only 3 pages long. you can read it here.

borges is in my top 3 favorite writers of all time, and “The House of Asterion” obviously deserves to be considered on its own merits, so i feel slightly irreverent connecting this text to a recent video game. but i reread this short story today and there was much to think about, there were many more seeds planted in my mind in terms of interpretations of the minotaur myth and how asterion the minotaur relates to the story of astarion the vampire. i think it will for you, too.

anyway. if you don’t click through and read it, please at least read how it ends, remembering, of course, that the speaker is asterion the minotaur:

#baldur’s gate 3 #astarion #bg3 #bg3 meta #OPENLY TAGGING THIS. WHO CARES. CRY WITH ME.#maybe im the only person openly weeping abt this in *connection* to astarion bg #the story itself is more than enough to make you weep #god theres something about #I hope he will take me to a place with fewer galleries and fewer doors.#also like. obviously. tav as the redeemer.#‘will he be like me?’ (full of trembling hope) makes me think of durge tav ok shut up #the way ‘my loneliness no longer bothers me’ is so clearly not true from the rest of the pragraph #OKAY

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storiesoflilies · 18 days

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cherry cola, cigarette kisses

pairing: guitarist!toji fushiguro x singer!reader

warnings: slight age gap (reader is 25, toji is 30), mentions of drugs and alcohol, smoking, swearing.

a/n: a little drabble for the ‘jujutsu journal’ collab by @ayyy-pee. dividers by @/benkeibear. toji drabble collection here.

people came to see the band live really just to catch a glimpse of the two of them in person.

of her, with her cream linen summer dresses, lips painted red like the cans of cherry cola she drank on stage between sets, dainty gold rings adorning her fingers, silk red ribbons tied in pretty big bows on her wrists, and matching platform heels. her with a voice so cool and suave, like ice, that it made all the boys go crazy for her.

and of him, toji fushiguro. with his cigarette smoke voice, all husk and fire, and veiny hands that held his guitar with practiced finesse. with his guitar solos that made you want to throw your head back in ecstasy, and his rolled-up sleeves to expose his corded forearms, driving the girls wild with desire.

people came to see them play and see the way they moved together.

when she sang, toji would close his eyes and tilt his head back, lost in the ecstasy that was the privilege of listening to her art. plucking the strings of his electric guitar along to play a tune to support her voice, like a flowing stream carrying along a floating feather. he let the vibrations of the bass through the speakers and reverberate into his bones, feeling the thrum of the crowd with their phone lights flashing and swaying, and inhaling the scent of sweat and dreams in the air.

god, his girlfriend was so fucking cool, and they all didn’t even know the half of it.

they didn’t know how pretty she looked when she danced naked in the dark in front of their penthouse views of the city lights below. with red wine swirling in her glass amidst a smokey haze, he’d exhale a big fume of his joint, and think to himself that he was so goddamn lucky to have picked up that crumpled, wet ‘guitarist wanted’ flyer all those years ago.

of course, the world didn’t know just how lucky toji was just yet.

she’d sing such pretty words, especially about the world thinking you were too young to understand the things you felt. words about everyone telling you that you couldn’t possibly grasp the way things were supposed to work, when in fact, you actually did – perhaps better than everyone else did. toji had been one of those things for her before. their bandmates had been adamantly against the older man pursuing her when they first met four years ago. she was their sweet little cherry, and they didn’t want the ash of him and his cigarettes falling on and ruining her delicate skin.

“she’s too young,” they’d all said. “too dumb to know what you are, fushiguro.”

toji had let their words get to him, the indignant and prideful fire within razing everything to the ground, and disappeared into his studio apartment with only his bong for company. he’d been there for a long time, refusing to answer any of her or the band’s calls, until she showed up knocking at his door in the middle of the night. her makeup was smeared and her vanilla scented perfume still lingered, while he was lost halfway in a dream of minefields, complex labyrinths, and booby traps.

“don’t leave me too,” she’d begged, a tumbling mess of tears, and practically collapsed as she gripped his arms for all she was worth. “not you, please.”

he melted into her right there and then.

toji shushed her softly, holding her close as they lay there in a tangled heap on the floor. he watched as his tears landed on her hair, feeling his high crashing down. “but i’m no good for you, babygirl.”

“nobody is good for each other, toji. love is fucking awful and tears your heart apart, but i still want to do it with you.”

and that was that.

but nobody else knew about them.

they’d been a secret for two years now, and toji had decided that this was it – she was it. his best girl, no other woman would ever compare to her. but she was so nervous, always so good, about what their bandmates and the fans would think. she didn’t want to break anybody’s heart, but toji didn’t care about that anymore.

they belonged to each other, and fuck, the whole world needed to know it. and if they didn’t like it? well, they could go and choke on it.

she swayed back and forth, staring at toji with heart eyes, and and teasingly stuck her tongue out to the side. that was his cue, and the fans knew it too, for him to take control of the music with his fingers and let himself and his guitar run wild. of course, it was to put on a good show, but he knew it was really because she loved his guitar solos more than anyone else did.

“i want you to play guitar for me all the time,” she said one time, teeth stained gray from the wine, twirling in lazy circles as toji strummed his acoustic guitar. “especially when i die, so i can hear the sound of heaven before i go.”

toji abruptly stopped playing and frowned, “don’t even talk about something like that. i’m supposed to go before you anyways, y’know i’m the old one.

“shut up, i can’t live without you.”

he stared at her as he played, never taking his eyes off how she danced and swayed. he watched as she went over to their drummer and pressed a kiss to their cheek. a hot flare of jealousy coursed through his blood, and toji picked up the pace, forcing their drummer to focus and step it up a notch to keep up with him. sweat dripped from his forehead, his dark hair sticking to it in stringy strands, and he licked his lips, tasting salt.

“yeah,” toji thought. “it’s do or die now.”

she took a swig of cherry cola, lipstick stains on the rim, as toji coaxed his solo into an earth-shattering crescendo, sending the crowd into a frenzy of whoops and cheers. still, he never took his eyes off her, following her every movement as he stopped the music suddenly in a dramatic conclusion.

the crowd clapped for the end of the song, and toji lit a cigarette to settle his buzzing nerves, his chest heaving with exertion. she floated over to him, smiling softly, red lipstick slightly faded from the cola, licking her lips as she tilted her head at him. he knew she could read him like a book; she knew something was wrong.

“what is it?” she whispered, being careful not to face the crowd directly.

“let’s do it, babygirl,” toji rasped, taking another long drag from his cigarette.

her eyebrows shot up, and she gaped. “now, toji? right now?”

“yeah, c’mon. let’s drive ‘em all crazy,” he chuckled, blowing his smoke away from her face.

“you mean it, toji?” she frowned, her pretty little heart so goddamn nervous about everyone else’s feelings but her own.

toji flicked his cigarette, adjusted his guitar to his side, and smiled. “let’s not think anymore, let’s just do.”

with that, he pulled her in by the waist and planted a kiss right onto her plush lips. bitter cigarette and sweet cherry flavors mixed intoxicatingly as their mouths danced together, eliciting shocked gasps followed by an almost deathly silence.

and then, it exploded.

the camera flashes went astronomically wild, accompanied cheering that bordered on plain screaming and raving, as a thousand hearts broke and millions swooned. she relaxed into him, putting her hands onto his broad, sweaty chest, flushed from the heat of the moment and the thrill of performing. they pulled apart, his lips swollen and hers tingly, and it was just the two of them amidst the eyes of thousands. she giggled, a nervous bark at the revelation of how their lives were going to change now, and toji beamed.

“you’re trouble, toji fushiguro,” she breathed out, chin on his chest as she gazed up at him in adoration.

toji chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead and mumbled, “i’m your trouble.”

general taglist: @tadabzzzbee

#JujutsuJournal #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji fluff #guitarist toji #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk au #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen au #jujutsu kaisen

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 months

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Look At You - Eddie Munson X Female Reader

Title: Look At You

Eddie Munson X Female Reader

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

Loosely Inspired By: One Of Your Girls by Troye Sivan

WC: 11,764

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie just smiled, "Go for it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, a ride would be great."

~~~

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Goodnight, babe."

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, "Yeah."

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Main Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

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jaidens · 10 months

Text

And When I Felt Like I Was An Old Cardigan

pairing [s] : spencer reid x reader

warning [s] : baby spencer | angst with comfort \ fluff | crying | mentions of spencers addiction |

a/n [s] : requests are open!! short imagine I guess

Spencer was young.

Spencer was young and had gone through more than any twenty-three year olds had. He was bullied and ridiculed throughout his school years, and was constantly working. His mind was on everything, how to be better and how to show people he wasn't some scrawny kid with some luck and brains.

It followed him into his adult life. In his work, if you didn't pull through you were pushed out. Spencer knew he had to continue to work on his information which led to him reading many books each week and never letting him do what he wanted. Whether that was binging Star Trek every night or eating cake and cookies while making fun of scientific facts in random television shows.

Eventually, after the Tobias Hankel case, he was at his all time low in his adult life. Spencer felt as if he had nothing to live for and he was shoved further down in his experiences. He felt like he was pushed on a shelf, and put away, for nobody to care or think about him. That was until he met you, an agent from a different branch of the F.B.I. You let him talk about his thoughts on the case and other facts that could travel along his sentences. It made him feel seen and that's all he needed.

After the case ended, you had called him, and asked if he wanted to get a cup of coffee and see a movie. He accepted it gratefully, meeting you on a frosty November morning. He's clad in a thick cardigan above a button up shirt and a bundle of feelings of worry. Spencer sees you in a small booth near the window, sipping on hot (what he learned to be) chamomile tea. There's a relaxing, acoustic song that's playing on the speakers.

He's gripping onto his leather satchel as he walks over to you. You look at him with eyes that he can get lost in through the dangerous labyrinth of the color. Spencer's hands go to his glasses and he readjusts them on his nose and stumbles to the table. His clothes seem to feel as if they're sticking against his skin as he sits down in the plush brown seat in front of you.

“Hi Spencer.” You say giving him a small smile and take another sip out of your steaming tea. Hes staring at you like you're a new book, the smell of a new book, and everything he loves about the sound of the first page turn. “...Hi.” Spencer responds letting out a breath he had been holding in, letting his shoulders drop and relax.

Spencer's eyes fall on the book that sits on the table that was aged and the spine wasn't in the best condition. He recognizes the name that's etched on the front. “Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë?” He asks you pointing at the book. You set down your tea and nod. “Yes! It's one of my favorites. Whatever our souls are made of...”

“...his and mine are the same.” Spencer finishes and you smile at him, the waitress walks over and Spencer tells her his order of a coffee with four sugars and two creamers. Whatever Spencer was doing, it was working. The soft charm he had to him whenever his dimples would show whenever he would smile, was working.

The same smile showed up the day he asked you to be his. He handed you a book with a note written inside with his messy hand writing. He can still remember the flash of happiness in your eyes as you ran up to him and kissed him. It didn't make sense to him for the first time in forever. It didn't make sense why he was terrified to look at you the next day as you wake up in his bed next to him.

He turns to the other side of the bed where you're laying, covered with his brown comforter. Spencer's hands suddenly feel sweaty and he's anxious, because that's his fiancee, laying in bed and the ring shines against the sun. If you would have asked twenty-three year old Spencer where he would be at 30, he wouldn't be able to answer you. Now, he knows. He knows that he's in complete and utter awe of his fiancee and that he's finally happy. This is what he's dreamed of for years, whenever he was a kid reading fairytale books over and over again.

Spencer finally had been seen and he was never losing it.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x wife!reader #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 months

Text

Airport Entertainment.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

word count - 5.3k

in which, two days ago, you got a call in the early hours of the morning from your sister saying that you had to fly home immediately due to your aunt having taken ill during the night, so that left harry to look after your two year old son archie, he promised they would fly out to be with you as soon as possible, so now, harry has to try and keep little archie entertained…this is going to be fun.

Amidst the bustling airport, Harry Styles stood tall with his two-year-old son, Archie, by his side. Their journey had begun as they successfully checked in their luggage and emerged from the labyrinth of counters, transitioning into the next phase of their adventure.

Harry's mind, however, carried a weight beyond the mundane travel preparations. Just two nights prior, his wife, Y/N, had received a heart-wrenching call, informing her of her aunt's sudden illness. With unwavering love and determination, she swiftly arranged a flight to be by her aunt's side, leaving Harry with a newfound purpose – to join them as soon as he could.

So, he booked the first flight he could find and knew for a fact that he had to be by his wife's side in this time of need.

He had met her aunt so many times that he even called her aunt when speaking to her or about her. She thought of Harry as a son and knowing she was sick made his heart plummet straight into his stomach.

The airport teemed with life, a vibrant symphony of hurried footsteps, the rolling of suitcases, and an orchestra of conversations in diverse languages. It was a reflection of the interconnectedness of the world, a place where paths crossed and destinies intertwined. The spirit of busyness infused the air, electrifying every corner, as people scurried to their gates, their faces etched with anticipation or tinged with farewell.

Having checked in and bidding adieu to their bags, Harry and Archie passed through the gateway of security, where the atmosphere took on a different dynamic. The once expansive terminal seemed to shrink, as a throng of travellers condensed into a serpentine queue. The surrounding walls reverberated with the ceaseless hum of anticipation, the clinking of belts being unbuckled, and the soft rustle of belongings being prepared for inspection.

Forty minutes stretched before them, like an infinite corridor of time. The queue wound its way through the maze of dividers, a labyrinthine path that seemed to twist and turn, never allowing them to glimpse the destination. The air buzzed with whispered conversations, snippets of laughter, and occasional announcements echoing through the speakers, beckoning passengers towards their respective flights.

For Harry, every minute spent in the security queue was a reminder of the urgent purpose that propelled him forward. The weight of concern for Y/N and her ailing aunt pressed upon him, mingling with the impatience that built within. The minutes melted together, as if time itself had been distorted within the confines of the checkpoint, leaving him suspended in a paradoxical state of urgency and waiting.

Archie, his wide eyes filled with curiosity, observed the commotion with innocent wonder. His tiny fingers tightly clasped around the straps holding him in place in his stroller, seeking solace and familiarity amidst the sea of strangers. Harry, in turn, offered his son gentle reassurance, his smile and gentle facade conveying both love and a silent promise that they would be reunited with Y/N soon.

As the minutes gradually gave way, the queue inched forward, teasing them with glimpses of progress. The rhythmic shuffling of feet, the gentle clinks of bins being placed onto the conveyor belt, and the intermittent hum of security scanners formed a background symphony. Harry's senses absorbed the collective energy, a mosaic of emotions spanning from excitement to weariness, from joyous reunions to bittersweet farewells.

Finally, their turn arrived. Harry guided Archie through the checkpoint, his footsteps in sync with the beat of their racing hearts. As Harry and Archie passed through the scanner, the little one being told softly by the security officer that he needed to come out of the stroller, his innocence and curiosity temporarily intersected with the stringent protocols of travel. Harry followed closely behind, reclaiming his belongings, his gaze fixed on the path that lay ahead.

The arduous passage through the security queue had served as a metaphorical bridge, connecting Harry to the journey that awaited him. The airport, with all its organised chaos, had become a transient space, a conduit linking him to Y/N, her aunt, and the unknowns that lay beyond.

Having successfully navigated the security checkpoint, Harry found himself pushing Archie's stroller through the bustling airport terminal. The early morning hours had begun to awaken hunger within Archie's little belly, and he tugged at his father's sleeve, his voice filled with innocence and hunger.

"Dada, me hungry," Archie's voice chimed, drawing Harry's attention away from the flurry of activity surrounding them.

Harry's brows furrowed in gentle concern as he glanced down at his son, a mix of adoration and responsibility shining in his eyes. "Aye, little man, I reckon it's time for some breakfast,"

Archie's eyes lit up with excitement, and his tiny finger pointed towards the golden arches, a beacon of familiarity in the distance. "Look, Daddy! Mac-Donald's!"

Harry's initial inclination to steer clear of fast food wavered in the face of his son's earnest enthusiasm. He knew that a hearty breakfast would keep Archie content and energised for their journey. With a resigned smile, he relented, his voice filled with a touch of indulgence. "Alright, Arch. Just this once, we'll make an exception."

As they approached the familiar restaurant, the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafted through the air, mingling with the familiar sounds of sizzling patties and cheerful chatter. The breakfast menu tempted them with an array of options, from warm muffins to savoury breakfast burritos.

As the line at McDonald's slowly moved forward, Harry guided the stroller over to the counter, ensuring Archie had a clear view of the menu. The friendly McDonald's worker, caught up in the whirlwind of orders and customer requests, called out, "Next customer, please!"

Harry approached the counter, a gentle smile gracing his lips, and caught the worker's eye. Instantly, recognition flickered across her face, a mixture of surprise and excitement. Trying to compose herself, she greeted him with a blend of professionalism and admiration.

"Good morning, sir. What can I get for you today?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of awe.

Harry, ever gracious, returned her smile. "Morning! I'll 'ave the sausage and egg McMuffin with an orange juice, please," he replied, his order a familiar choice.

The worker scribbled down the order, her hands trembling slightly with excitement. The opportunity to serve someone so well-known brought a touch of nervousness, which she tried to conceal. Composing herself, she turned her attention to Archie, bending down to his level.

"And what can I get for you, young man?" she asked with a playful tone, enchanted by Archie's adorable presence.

Archie, his baby talk endearing to all around him, replied, "Pancakes, pwease!"

The worker chuckled at his delightful request, her heart warmed by his innocent charm. "Certainly, pancakes it is!" she confirmed with a smile.

She swiftly tallied up the total and informed Harry, "That'll be £6.98, please."

Harry reached for his wallet, retrieving his card with practised ease. Holding it aloft, he placed it against the contactless payment machine, effortlessly completing the transaction. The seamless act reflected the modern convenience that had become second nature in their fast-paced world.

The McDonald's worker thanked him, her professional demeanour now mixed with a hint of gratitude. "Thank you so much, sir. Your order will be ready shortly."

Harry skillfully manoeuvred the stroller to the designated waiting area, where customers eagerly anticipated their order numbers to be called. The bustling sounds of the McDonald's restaurant filled the air as conversations and the sizzle of food blended harmoniously. Archie, his curiosity piqued, observed the vibrant scene from his cozy perch.

After patiently waiting for approximately ten minutes, a different McDonald's worker, with a friendly smile, called out, "Number 149!"

Harry's eyes lit up, recognizing his order number, and he guided the stroller toward the counter to collect their tray of breakfast delights. The worker, wearing the iconic McDonald's uniform, carefully placed the tray in front of Harry, her demeanour friendly and efficient.

"Here you go, sir. Enjoy your meal!" she said warmly, her voice echoing with genuine hospitality.

"Thank you," Harry replied with a grateful smile, appreciative of the worker's attentiveness.

With the tray in hand, Harry skillfully navigated through the bustling restaurant, his gaze searching for an unoccupied table. Spotting a vacant spot near the window, he guided the stroller and tray towards it, ensuring Archie had a comfortable view of the outside world.

As they settled into their chosen spot, the aroma of freshly cooked breakfast wafted through the air, tantalising their senses. The table, adorned with a vibrant red and white chequered pattern, provided the perfect setting for their morning meal. Harry carefully arranged the tray, placing the delicious assortment of food within easy reach.

Harry gently lifted Archie out of the stroller, placing him on the seat next to him. Archie, his eyes gleaming with delight, tugged at Harry's sleeve and uttered his innocent request, "Daddy, sit hewe!"

Harry paused, a wide grin spreading across his face as he realised Archie's desire for closeness. " ‘f course, little man. Right next to you," he responded, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

With a slight shift in his plans, Harry moved to the seat beside Archie, their closeness fostering an environment of joy and connection. As they settled into their seats, ready to indulge in their McDonald's breakfast, they embarked on a lively conversation, Archie's baby talk intermingling with Harry's words.

Archie, his face beaming with excitement, kicked off the conversation with an enthusiastic question. "Daddy, what we do befowe we get on the plane?"

Harry's eyes sparkled with playful anticipation, mirroring Archie's infectious enthusiasm. "Well, little mate, we could walk around and explore the airport. Maybe see some big planes taking off?" he suggested, his voice filled with a touch of adventure.

Archie's eyes widened with wonder, his voice brimming with curiosity. "Big planes! Like the one we going on?"

Harry nodded, his voice tinged with excitement. "Exactly, Arch! J’like the one we're gonna hop on. And maybe we could find a shop with some toys or books to keep us entertained on the journey," he added, envisioning the joy of discovering new treasures together.

Archie clapped his tiny hands, his eyes shining with anticipation. "Toys! Books!" he exclaimed, his words a testament to his infectious eagerness.

Their conversation flowed seamlessly, filled with laughter, shared dreams, and simple pleasures. Harry listened intently to Archie's sweet musings, cherishing every precious word that fell from his son's lips. The moments they shared were not just a series of exchanges but a celebration of the deep bond they nurtured as father and son.

As their breakfast came to a close, the remnants of their meal still scattered across the tray, Harry reached out to wipe a smudge of syrup from Archie's cheek. Their eyes met, an unspoken connection forged in that brief but tender gesture.

As Harry and Archie strolled through the bustling airport, their path meandered past various shops and bustling crowds. Archie's eyes darted around, eager to absorb every bit of excitement that surrounded them. Then, in the distance, he spotted a vibrant, soft play area adorned with colorful structures and laughing children.

"Daddy, I wanna go thewe!" Archie exclaimed, his voice filled with uncontainable excitement.

Harry's eyes crinkled with a knowing smile as he saw the play area ignite his son's enthusiasm. "Aye, Arch, let's go have some fun in there," he responded, his voice laced with anticipation.

Approaching the play area, Harry spotted a friendly lady overseeing the activities. Archie wriggled in his arms, impatient to explore the wonderland before him. Harry approached the lady, a warm grin on his face.

"Is it alright if my son plays in here?" Harry asked, his voice filled with hope.

The lady, with a kind smile, assured him, "Absolutely! It's a free play area. Feel free to let him have a blast!"

Harry's heart swelled with gratitude, knowing that this little adventure would not only entertain Archie but also help him burn off some energy before their flight. He gently set the stroller aside, securing it in the designated stroller bag with the others, ensuring its safety.

With the stroller safely stored away, Harry joined Archie within the vibrant play area. Soft structures welcomed their every step, inviting them to partake in the joyous revelry of childhood. Archie's eyes widened as he took in the sights and sounds, his tiny feet eager to explore.

"Daddy, look!" Archie called out, pointing at a colorful slide. "I wanna go down!"

Harry chuckled, his eyes twinkling with delight. "Alright, mate! Climb up and I'll catch you at the bottom!"

Archie climbed up with a determined focus, his little hands grasping the handrails. With a joyful shriek, he slid down the slide, his laughter echoing through the play area. Harry stood at the bottom, arms outstretched, ready to catch his adventurous little one.

"Good job, Arch!" Harry cheered as Archie landed safely in his waiting arms. "You're a champion slider!"

Archie beamed, his face flushed with excitement. "Again, Daddy! Again!"

Harry happily obliged, the two of them repeating the slide-and-catch routine, their laughter merging with the sounds of playful chatter and gleeful shrieks from other children.

After a few more exhilarating slides, Archie tugged at Harry's hand, his voice filled with anticipation. "Daddy, let's climb that!" he exclaimed, pointing at a colorful climbing structure nearby.

Harry chuckled, his heart swelling with pride at Archie's adventurous spirit. "Sure thing, little man! Let's conquer that climbing tower together!"

As they climbed and explored, their conversation continued, punctuated by laughter and playful banter. Harry and Archie shared their dreams and desires for their upcoming journey, their voices blending with the joyful symphony of the play area.

"Daddy, I wanna see a big, big plane!" Archie exclaimed, his eyes shining with wonder.

Harry nodded, his voice full of excitement. "We'll see one soon, Arch! And maybe w’can even sit by the window so w’can watch the clouds go by!"

Archie clapped his hands, his voice brimming with delight. "Clouds! Plane!" he squealed, his words expressing the sheer joy of the moment.

As Harry and Archie continued to enjoy their time in the play area, Harry noticed that Archie seemed slightly out of breath, his cheeks flushed with exertion. Concern etched Harry's face as he crouched down beside his son.

"Arch, do you want your juice, mate?" Harry asked, his voice filled with both worry and affection.

Archie nodded eagerly, his breath coming in short bursts. "Yes, Daddy, juice, pwease!" he replied, his voice slightly breathless.

Realizing that he had left the juice in the baby bag near the stroller, Harry quickly scanned the area. His gaze landed on a man, intently watching his own daughter play nearby. With a hopeful expression, Harry approached him.

"Excuse me, mate," Harry said politely, "could you please keep an eye on m’son for a moment? I left his juice in the stroller bag, and I don't want him to get too thirsty."

The man, sensing Harry's urgency, nodded kindly. "Of course, I'll keep an eye on him. Go get his juice, mate," he reassured.

With a grateful smile, Harry rushed over to the stroller, his mind focused on retrieving the much-needed juice. However, as he approached, the sound of a child's cries reached his ears. Concern gripping his heart, he hastened his steps.

With the juice in hand, Harry returned to the play area, only to find Archie crying, tears streaming down his face. Harry's heart sank as he noticed a small cut on Archie's knee, evidence of a fall that had transpired in his absence. Guilt washed over Harry, his mind racing with regret.

"Oh, Arch, I'm so sorry, mate," Harry murmured, his voice heavy with remorse. "I should have been here with you."

The man, looking after Archie, looked apologetic, his voice filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see him fall. I tried my best, but..."

Harry placed a comforting hand on the man's shoulder, offering reassurance. "No need to apologize. Accidents happen, mate. Thank you for watching over him.”

Archie's cries escalated, his small voice calling out for his dad. Harry's heart ached, and he knelt down beside his son, wiping away the tears with a gentle touch.

"Hey, Arch, you've been such a brave boy," Harry whispered, his voice filled with love. "Daddy's here now."

Archie's tear-filled eyes met Harry's gaze, his bottom lip trembling. "D-Daddy, it huwts," he sobbed, pointing at the tiny cut on his knee.

Harry's heart broke at the sight of Archie's pain. He pulled out a wipe from the stroller bag and gently cleaned the wound. "I know, mate, m’sorry you got hurt. But don't worry, Daddy's going to fix it," he assured him, his voice soothing.

As Harry applied a plaster to the cut, Archie's sobs began to subside, replaced by sniffs and hiccups. Harry wrapped his arms around his son, offering comfort and security.

"You've been so brave, Arch. I'm proud of you," Harry said softly, planting a kiss on Archie's forehead. "Y’my little warrior."

Archie sniffled and looked up at Harry, his watery eyes searching for reassurance. "Daddy, make it better?" he asked in a small voice.

Harry smiled warmly, reaching into the stroller bag once again. This time, he retrieved a small toy car. "How about this, mate? We’ll go to the shop and daddy can get you a new teddy?”

As Harry gently tried to guide Archie back into the stroller, his little one clung tightly to him, refusing to let go. Archie's eyes were still watery from his recent tears, and his sniffling voice filled the air.

"Daddy, no stwoller. Want Daddy," Archie whimpered, his voice laced with a mix of vulnerability and a longing for comfort.

Harry's heart melted at the sight of his son's distress. He knelt down, embracing Archie in a warm hug. "It's alright, little man. Daddy's here. We can walk together," he assured, his voice soothing.

Archie's grip on his father's neck tightened, finding solace in his arms. "Thank you, Daddy. Love you," he whispered, his voice still carrying traces of his earlier tears.

Harry's eyes softened with tenderness. "I love you too, Arch. Always," he replied, his words a testament to the unwavering love between them.

With Archie safely in his arms, Harry adjusted his posture, making sure his little one was comfortable. As they walked towards the toy shop, Archie's sniffles gradually subsided, replaced by a sense of excitement and curiosity.

Amidst the joyful chatter and bustling atmosphere of the airport, Archie began to speak, his voice still tinged with a hint of lingering sadness. "Daddy, I want to buy a big teddy bear. A weally soft one," he shared, his words punctuated by small hiccups.

Harry smiled, grateful to see Archie's spirits lifting. "A big, soft teddy bear, huh? That sounds like a great choice, Arch. Y’can hug it tight, just like you hug Daddy," he replied, his voice filled with warmth.

Archie's eyes sparkled with anticipation, his voice growing stronger. "And maybe a shiny car too, Daddy. We can play together!" he added, his excitement building.

Harry's heart swelled with joy at his son's enthusiasm. "Absolutely, Arch! We'll have s’much fun playin’ with the shiny car and the soft teddy bear," he assured, their shared anticipation filling the air.

As Harry and Archie entered the toy shop at the airport, their eyes were greeted by a kaleidoscope of colors and a world of endless possibilities. They strolled down the aisles, Archie's eyes gleaming with excitement, eager to explore the wonders that surrounded them.

"Daddy, let me down!" Archie wiggled in Harry's arms, a determined look on his face.

Harry chuckled, his grip on Archie loosening as he gently set him down on the shop floor. With an infectious grin, Archie darted towards the end of the aisle, drawn by a box filled with a delightful array of teddy bears.

Harry's eyes widened in a mix of panic and amusement as he watched his little one leap into the bear pile, disappearing amongst a sea of plush fur. Laughter bubbled from Harry's lips, a testament to the sheer joy and uninhibited spirit of his adventurous son.

Just as Harry moved closer to rescue Archie from the bear-filled frenzy, a shop worker approached, a stern expression on his face. "Is this your son?" the worker inquired, pointing at the bear-filled spectacle.

Harry's smile faltered slightly as he nodded. "Yes, he's m’son. m’sorry about that," he apologized, a mix of amusement and sheepishness coloring his voice.

The worker, rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue, sighed with exasperation. "Please, sir, could you get him out of there? It's a bit disruptive," he requested, his tone a mixture of annoyance and weariness.

Harry nodded earnestly, quickly moving to retrieve Archie from the bear pile. With gentle hands, he carefully extracted his giggling and wriggling son, who was thoroughly enjoying his plush-filled escapade.

"M’sorry about the mess," Harry apologized once more, a hint of laughter still lingering in his voice.

The worker's expression softened slightly, a trace of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Just try to keep an eye on him, sir," he advised, his voice laced with a touch of understanding.

Harry nodded gratefully, fully aware of the truth in the worker's words. As he held Archie in his arms once more, he couldn't help but marvel at his son's sense of wonder and the ability to find joy in the simplest of moments.

As the worker walked away, Harry looked down at his son who was in his arms, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips. He pointed to one of the teddy bears in the pile and asked, "Is this the teddy bear y’want, Arch?"

Archie's eyes lit up as he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Daddy, that one!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with delight.

Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and affection as he witnessed his son's excitement. He leaned closer, a playful glint in his eyes. "Alright then, Arch. What are y’going to name y’new friend?" he asked, his voice laced with anticipation.

Archie pondered for a moment, his little brow furrowed in concentration. Then, a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Harry," he declared, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mouth forming an exaggerated gasp. "Harry? You're going to name your teddy bear after me?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with mock astonishment.

Archie giggled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah, Daddy! Harry!" he confirmed, delighting in the playful banter.

Harry playfully rolled his eyes, a grin stretching across his face. "Alright then, Arch, I'm honoured," he replied, his voice laced with affection. "Harry the bear it is!"

As Harry and Archie found a cozy spot near the big window at the airport terminal, their journey seemed to pause for a moment of tranquility. The soft glow of sunlight bathed their surroundings, casting a warm hue over the area. Archie, his tiny frame seated on the floor, was engrossed in play, his small hands hugging his new teddy bear tightly.

Harry, sitting behind him, propped against the wall, watched his son with a fondness that swelled within him. His heart swelled with gratitude for the little being before him—a testament to the love he shared with his wife, a living, breathing miracle they had brought into the world.

In this serene moment, time seemed to slow down. Harry's gaze, filled with admiration, traced the contours of Archie's face—the tousled locks of hair framing his forehead, the innocence in his wide eyes, and the dimples that danced on his cheeks when he smiled.

The terminal hummed with the gentle bustle of passengers, yet all Harry could focus on was Archie—their son, their joy, their hope. His love for him overflowed, evident in the way his gaze lingered on every gesture, every giggle, every captivating moment that played out before him.

Archie's laughter filled the air, a symphony of pure delight that brought a smile to Harry's lips. His tiny hands wrapped around the teddy bear, forming a bond that mirrored the connection Harry himself had with his son. It was a reminder of the precious moments of tenderness and care that they would share, of the adventures and challenges that lay ahead, and the unwavering love that would guide them through it all.

In this quiet corner of the airport, the world around them faded into the background. Harry was entranced by the simple beauty of his son's innocence, the way he surrendered himself wholeheartedly to the realm of imagination, his laughter echoing with boundless joy.

As Harry's gaze continued to linger on Archie, he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for the privilege of being a father. The responsibility was immense, but so too was the reward—the chance to witness this little soul grow, to guide him, and to be a steadfast presence in his life.

As Harry remained captivated by the sight of Archie playing with his new teddy bear, his focus suddenly shifted as his phone began to vibrate. Glancing at the screen, he noticed a FaceTime call from his wife. His heart leapt with anticipation, knowing that this call would bridge the distance between them, even if only for a moment.

"Archie, come here, mate," Harry called out, his voice laced with excitement. "Mama's on the phone!"

Archie's head snapped up, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his beloved mother. With an infectious grin, he scrambled to his feet and eagerly climbed into Harry's lap, settling comfortably in his father's embrace.

Harry's fingers danced across the screen as he accepted the call, the familiar face of his wife appearing before them. The room seemed to come alive with the sound of her voice, filling the air with warmth and familiarity.

"Mama!" Archie exclaimed, his voice filled with delight. "Look, I have a teddy bear!"

Harry chuckled, his gaze shifting between Archie and the screen. "Say hello to Mama, Arch. Show her your new friend," he encouraged, his voice brimming with affection.

Archie held up the teddy bear, his face beaming with pride. "Look, Mama! Teddy bear!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

Through the screen, Y/N's face lit up with a loving smile. "Oh, Archie, it looks wonderful! I can't wait to give you a big hug when you come back," she replied, her voice filled with warmth.

Archie beamed, his tiny hand reaching out as if trying to touch his mother's face through the screen. "I miss you, Mama," he said, his voice tinged with longing.

Y/N's voice softened, carrying a wealth of love and reassurance. "I miss you too, my sweet boy. But remember, Daddy and I will be there soon. We'll have so much fun when we're together again," she assured him.

After a few more moments of conversation, Archie's attention waned, his eyes drifting towards the floor. He wiggled out of Harry's lap and landed gracefully on the ground, his interest shifting to the toys scattered nearby.

Harry watched his son with a mixture of amusement and adoration, his eyes sparkling with paternal love. "Alright, Arch, go play for a bit," he encouraged, his voice filled with warmth. "I'll talk to Mama for a little while."

Archie's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he delved back into his world of play, his imagination taking flight once more.

With Archie happily occupied, Harry refocused his attention on the screen. He leaned in closer, a tender smile gracing his face. "Hey, love, how are you doing? How's your aunt?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Y/N's expression softened, appreciating Harry's genuine care and thoughtfulness. "I'm doing alright, Harry. It's been a challenging time, but we're taking it one day at a time. Thank you for asking. And my aunt, well, she's stable at the moment. We're hopeful for her recovery," she shared, her voice tinged with a mixture of weariness and hope.

Harry nodded, his eyes conveying a deep empathy. "M’glad to hear that she's stable. Sending our love and well wishes to her," he said sincerely.

They continued their conversation, their voices carrying the weight of their shared experiences and the warmth of their love. Harry updated Y/N on their adventures at the airport, sharing snippets of their journey and the excitement building within them as they prepared to board the plane.

"I can't wait to have you and Archie by my side again. It's been a bit challenging without you both here," (Y/N) admitted, her voice filled with longing. "But you're on your way, love. We'll be together soon."

Harry's eyes softened, his voice filled with affection. "I miss you both too, darlin’. We'll be counting down the hours.”

(Y/N)’s aunt lived in Madrid, whereas the Styles family were currently residing in London, so it wasn’t going to be a long flight that Harry had to endure with a toddler.

Harry chuckled, a warm glow emanating from his heart. "You know I will, love. He's in good hands. We'll see you soon, baby. Love you."

“I love you.” (Y/N) grinned, blowing a kiss which Harry playfully put in her a pocket.

As the video call came to an end, Archie reluctantly made his way back to his father, his tiny figure climbing onto Harry's lap. The weariness in his eyes was evident as he knuckled at them, a clear indication that he was tired.

"Y’look tired, Arch," Harry observed, his voice filled with gentle concern. "Are y’ready for a nap?"

Archie nodded, his head bobbing with a sleepy affirmation. "Yes, Daddy. Tired," he murmured, his voice tinged with drowsiness.

Harry's heart swelled with tenderness as he realized his little one needed rest. "Alright, buddy. I'll help y’fall asleep," he whispered, his voice carrying a soothing tone.

Archie, seeking comfort, looked up at his father with hopeful eyes. "Can you rub my back, Daddy?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry smiled, understanding his son's request. He began to gently rub Archie's back, his touch flowing with tenderness and love. The rhythmic motion brought a sense of calmness, soothing his son into a peaceful slumber.

As Harry's hand moved in gentle circles, Archie's sleepy voice filled the air. "Daddy, when will we see Mama?" he murmured, his words laced with a touch of longing.

Harry's voice, soft and reassuring, reached Archie's ears. "We'll be seeing her soon, m’love. A little while longer," he replied, his voice brimming with affection.

Archie's eyelids grew heavy, fluttering with the weight of his fatigue. He snuggled closer to his father's chest, his breaths growing slow and steady. In the midst of their tender conversation, sleep embraced Archie, gently pulling him into its warm embrace.

Harry continued to rub Archie's back, his touch a soothing lullaby. The conversation between father and son continued, their voices a gentle cadence that filled the room.

"Daddy, can we bring mama a present?" Archie asked, his words becoming softer as sleep claimed him.

Harry's voice held a loving reassurance as he replied, "Yes, Arch. We can get mama a present , we always bring the best surprises. You'll see."

As their conversation tapered off, Archie's breathing grew steady, his slumber deepening. Harry pressed a tender kiss to his son's forehead, his lips conveying a silent "I love you" that words couldn't capture.

In the peaceful serenity of that moment, Harry couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude. He marvelled at the beauty of their connection, the unconditional love that bound them, and the joy that their little family brought to his life.

With Archie now asleep, Harry held him close, cherishing the weight of his son's form in his arms. The room was filled with a quiet, gentle love that only a parent and child could share. In that embrace, Harry knew that the bond they had forged would carry them through any distance, any obstacle, and any challenge that life presented.

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corinthianism · 1 year

Text

labyrinth | peter parker

pairing: peter parker (andrew garfield)/gn!reader additional tags: fluff, meet cute warnings: referenced character death (gwen), angst

summary: peter finds love again nearly a decade since gwen's death. note: this is like. a brain fart. i barely proofread this so like i'm just gonna HOPE it's not complete ass. happy reading!

The air was already biting cold in November. Peter had been sitting on the same bench for about an hour now, orange leaves clinging to his coat. Every so often, he would break out of his trance to brush them off. Gwen had gotten it for him on their first Valentine’s Day together after she saw him wearing one of his uncle’s old ones. She joked about how it made him look like he was hiding little packets of crack in his pocket. His lips twitched into a smile before he inhaled deeply, trying to remember the sound of her laugh. The real sound of her laugh, not the one that crackles through the speakers of his old laptop whenever he missed her. It’s been that long. He was always terrified he’d forget her: how her eyes twinkled when she learned something new, how her hair always seemed to be perfectly in place, or how her scent took over his room after every visit.

There were days when he couldn’t even get out of bed, too consumed by his grief to move a muscle. On the flip side, there were days when he could feel like himself again. Days where he allowed himself to smile and just be the nerd he’d always been. He knew it was what Gwen would’ve wanted. By some miracle, it was what she fell in love with. She loved Peter Parker and that was the only reason he had to not lose himself as Spider-Man. Despite it all, he found it got easier with time. It was easier to live with himself now. It was easier to accept that it wasn’t his fault. Four years has passed since her death and he was just barely accepting it still, but it didn’t hurt so much anymore.

It was rare for him to have the time to just go out and enjoy what the city had to offer. New York could be a real piece of work: that was evident from just how much Spider-Man had to deal with in the past few months, but it was home. Central Park was a place he hadn’t visited in a while, so he tried to not dwell in his thoughts too much and enjoy the rare opportunity. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to do but people-watch, but it was a nice change of pace for Peter. With how hectic things were at work on top of his responsibilities as a vigilante, he was exhausted. He was tired of being Peter Parker. It was nice to just be invisible for once.

He snorted. If middle-school Peter heard that, he would’ve been firmly smacked on the head by his younger self. He always wanted to fit in with the cool kids back then. He achieved that to some degree. Sure, he was more well-known as a dweeb rather than a cool guy, but he was still well-known. Even now, he realized his desires didn’t change all that much. It’s just that this time, he wished he could have a house and a dog and a proper job and be friends with normal people. Instead, he was still renting an apartment in a less-than-ideal part of town that he could barely keep. Before he could slip further into his self-deprecation, he was pulled away from his thoughts by something sitting next to him. On his right was a puppy, no more than a year old, slobbering all over the bench with a bright green ball in its mouth. Peter could only stare at it before the puppy carefully placed the wet ball on his lap, urging him to throw it. Before he could do anything, you jogged up to them and picked up both the dog and the ball.

“I’m so sorry, sir! I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately!” your eyes wandered down to the wet patch on Peter’s thigh where the ball used to be. “God, you don’t have somewhere to be, do you? I’m really, really sorry!”

You were really jittery. That was the only word Peter could think of to describe you. You didn’t know where to put your hands: between holding the happy pup, the ball with said pup’s drool all over it, or trying to introduce yourself to the man your dog decided was “the chosen one”, Peter was pretty entertained. Then he felt bad.

“It’s no problem really,” he reassured you before pointing to the troublemaker in your arms fondly. “You’ve got a cute puppy. Too bad I didn’t get to throw the ball though.”

The sigh of relief you let out must’ve been cartoony because you swore you saw him smile, then he stood up and handed you a handkerchief. You looked at it for a few moments before accepting it with your one wet free hand gratefully. He remembered thinking at the time that you looked so welcoming. Like a friend you can always talk to even if you haven’t seen each other in a while. It might’ve been his senses messing with him, but the air felt clearer then. Your arrival cleared a fog in his mind, and he didn’t even know your name. So he told you his instead, his gloved hand touching yours for the first time in what seemed to be just a polite handshake. Looking back on it now, perhaps that was the first sign.

You told him your name, trying not to stare at the man in front of you. His eyes were so… kind. They were big and round and full of wonder, maybe a little dampened by age. Kind but tired. They should’ve been just as average as any other set of eyes you’ve seen, but when the sunlight hit them just right, it reminded you of swirls of honey. The rest of him surely didn’t disappoint. Maybe a few seconds in, you realized you must’ve been gawking at him, so you said your goodbyes and tried to forget about it on the way home.

Not that you could, but he couldn’t either.

A couple of weeks had passed. His patrols happened less often now with him working so much during the day. Between the bills and the pressure of being a functioning adult, Peter found it difficult to keep his head above water. He stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror he got from May’s old stuff. He was older. He was sadder. The suit still fit as well as it could, but squeezing into it was more of a chore now than an exciting flipping-of-the-switch into his alter-ego. His hands shook, if only for a moment, before he pulled down the mask over his head. The fire escape creaked under his weight before bouncing back into place as Spider-Man finally leaped off and swung into the night.

“It’s just another patrol,” he reminded himself. “You get this done and you can get some sleep.”

It must’ve been two hours into his patrol when he heard you. His ears perked up at the sound of your voice. Before he could even register what was happening, his body was already swinging its way to you.

“Sherlock!” you called out. “Sherlock! Where are you?”

This was impossible. You loved your dog to bits but you’d think he’d think twice before dashing away from you at the slightest rustle of a bush.

“You need some help?” a voice came from behind you.

You jumped and swung your fist at whoever it was. Peter managed to narrowly avoid your sucker punch so he stepped back and held up his hands, in fear of freaking you out even more.

“WOAH! Woah, woah, hey…” he tried to calm you down, his actions about as frantic as your own. “I’m Spider-Man! I’m here to help!”

Red and blue spandex. Wide white lenses. Your mind finally processed what was going on in front of you. Spider-Man was here.

Holy shit, Spider-Man was here.

Once again, you were apologizing to him. Not that you would ever know that it was the same person. You explained that you were trying to find your dog, and he listened. He clung to your every word, whether he meant to or not. That same fog in his head cleared up and soon he found himself engaging in easy conversation with you as you both searched the neighborhood for your dog. He felt light, like this was the simplest thing ever. Why was it so easy to be with you?

How long has it been since he was in the company of someone other than May? Someone who wasn’t from Midtown High who would awkwardly comment on how different he looked. Someone who wasn’t from the Bugle who would sneer at him every time he messed up because he was exhausted. How long has it been since he spent time with somebody who could get to know him the way normal people did?

He tried to shake off these thoughts. Who said anything about the two of you getting to know each other anyway? Peter looked back at you from the dark alleyway. You were on the opposite side of the street from him, hellbent on finding Sherlock. A happy bark echoed from his side of the street. The puppy he once could’ve scooped up with one arm was now thrice the size of what it used to be. Sherlock stopped to smell Peter. The dog barked once again, as if to say “Hi, I remember you!”, and then ran back to you before you could burst into tears of frustration.

For a minute or two, Peter stayed just to watch. You were so gentle with your pup, so genuinely concerned for its wellbeing that it struck something inside of him. With how long he’s been Spider-Man and how much he lost as a consequence of it, he often forgot that people like you still existed. He forgot that there were still good people in this world, people who would do the same thing he did if they were the ones bitten by a radioactive spider. People that would help a tourist get to their hotel safely, reunite a mother with their child or, like you, spend the rest of the night looking for their dog in the freezing cold.

Peter tried to leave as soon as he could because there was something about you he couldn’t quite figure out and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like not knowing what it was about you that rekindled a flame in him he thought he’d lost. You didn’t even get a chance to thank him properly. He shot one web after another and then it was back to work.

Your voice and Sherlock’s cheerful barks echoed after him, “Thank you, Spider-Man!”

He felt himself smiling underneath the mask. Even if it was just for that night, he felt like the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man again. For you, the walk home was peaceful, even with the ever-present noise of the city in the background, but you felt safe. Since that first meeting with the masked hero, you’d feel that someone was watching you every now and then… and you knew exactly who it was. It was always a blip of red and blue in your peripheral, but it was more than enough.

In February, you got laid off from your job. You’d seen it coming but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t a complete pain in the ass. You just turned up to work, got handed your box of stuff, and sent on your way. It all happened so fast. Next thing you knew, you were sitting in some dingy old bar, your box of stuff forgotten in the trunk of your car while you nursed your drink. Some guy took a seat a couple of stools away from you, huffing as he rested his head on the counter.

It took you a while to recognize him.

“Hey! We’ve met before… Peter, right?”

Peter sat upright then, an awkward smile adorning his face as he turned to you. He stopped himself from speaking right away. After all, you met him once. He met you twice, both as himself and Spider-Man. He had to keep that in mind.

“Oh, uh, yeah! From Central Park?”

You laughed, “Yeah. From Central Park.”

There it was again. The ease of the conversation. The natural flow of your back and forth banter. He couldn’t tell if it was just you or his heart finally giving in after years of self-isolation that brought about this sense of calm, but he was grateful for it all the same. You told him about what just happened earlier that day and… something pushed Peter to just take one more step into the deep end.

“You could come work at the Bugle,” he blurted out. Fuck. You’re so stupid, Peter.

“What? The Daily Bugle? The newspaper?” you repeated in disbelief, all of your attention now on him as you shifted in your seat. It was overwhelming. Why was it so overwhelming? This was only the third time he’s talked to you!

Maybe it was liquid courage, but he found himself nodding and just going down the rabbit hole of trying to convince you to apply, “I mean, you’ve been at that company for how many years? And I heard they don’t just hire anyone, too. If anyone could land a spot at the Bugle, it’s you,”—he grinned and put on an accent—”mi amigo.”

You stared at him, perplexed. Then, a smile. You were his friend.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled back, trying to hold back the hope blooming in his chest. “I guess… I’ll be seeing you again soon?”

You wasted no time writing down your number on a piece of tissue and sliding it over to him, “You bet, Parker.”

In the safety of his one-bedroom apartment, Peter smiled at the messy line of numbers you scrawled on the two-ply tissue. He called you the day after, eagerly telling you abut what life at the Bugle was like. In true Spidey fashion, he was honest about it. His horror stories of his boss didn’t seem to faze you at all. In fact, it only made you more determined to apply and prove yourself. He admired that.

One call became two, and two became three. And one after that… and another after that. That wasn’t counting the daily texting that ensued in between. Peter found himself looking forward to your texts in the morning, when he finally fixed his sleep schedule just enough to wake up before his alarm started blaring. By the time you were officially an employee of the Daily Bugle, he couldn’t contain his excitement.

It was exhilirating to not be alone anymore. It was even better when he realized your cubicle was just right next to his. Peter made it his mission to ensure your work experience was a fun and pleasant one. It was so unequivocally him to do something like that. Each gesture started out small: he decorated your desk with two succulents when you started out. After a while, he would leave candy on top of your paperwork while you went to the bathroom. He always denied this. Then there were the sticky notes.

Peter didn’t come to work regularly, he was juggling two other freelance jobs most of the time but he always, without fail, managed to leave a sticky note on your computer if he wasn’t going to be around the next day. Like his other acts of kindness, these started small too. Imagining him hunched over a desk and writing these notes just for you made you more flustered than you could even begin to admit.

“Don’t forget to eat!”

“You’re doing such a good job :)”

“YOU’RE SO AWESOME!!! >:D”

But your favorite, favorite one, the one you kept safe in your phone case, was the note he left when you finished some of his paperwork for him. The two of you never spoke about the notes he left, both too scared to ruin the comfortable dynamic you’ve created. The very next morning, that familiar bright yellow poked out from in between the stacks of paper on your desk. You remembered the warmth you felt as you read his words. Something about his handwriting only intensified that.

“My hero :D Tell me how to make it up to you, you beautiful human being,” followed by a doodle of you in a Spider-Man costume.

One day, when he’s ready, maybe Peter would tell you how you saved a life just because you finished his work for him. In your own act of kindness, you allowed him to start his patrol earlier and save a teenage girl from getting mugged, or worse. When you invited him over to your house that weekend and saw the angry bruise on on his cheekbone, he let you tend to the cuts that were littered all over his body. He let himself bask in your gentleness and care and sweetness and everything that made you, you. You asked him if he got attacked. He shook his head and ignored the sting of the hydrogen peroxide.

“I fell into some bushes while hiking. Turns out it had thorns,” he lied. Lying to you didn’t feel great.

Instead of prying any further, you laughed and told him to be more careful. He could’ve sworn the room felt brighter then.

In June, May came over to his apartment to drop off some good homemade food; something she was sure he had gone far too long without, since his culinary taste consisted solely of instant noodles and microwaveable meals. The TV hummed in the background as the older woman made some small talk with her nephew. The realization that he was no longer a little boy dawned on her. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened, but it was a hard pill to swallow. May saw how tired and beaten down he was, especially after Gwen’s death, and it wasn’t until recently that she noticed a change in the young man. The stubble he always forgot to shave was nowhere to be seen, his unkempt hair finally trimmed into a manageable shape, and his eyes were brighter. He was still tired, but he was happy. For a brief moment, she saw the little boy she used to bathe and sing to before bed.

Peter was too busy munching on the chicken casserole she prepared to see his aunt smiling at him. Finally, she decided to speak up.

“Who is it, Peter?”

He looked up, not expecting the question, “Who’s what?”

“Who’s making you happy?”

Peter thought about it for a while, not sure if the answer he’ll give was actually the right one to describe what had transpired these last few months, “I made a friend, I guess. They’re really nice and uh… they just started working for the Bugle. So. I see them more often.”

May nodded, a content smile on her face as she processed the information. A coworker. A friend.

“Tell me about them, they seem nice.”

Peter hesitated for a second, only to be reminded of your face and your bad jokes and your dog. Nice was an understatement. You were amazing.

“They are. Nice, I mean. We just sort of ran into each other at Central Park and then I saw them again a couple of months later and I recognized them. They’re… they make me feel comfortable. Appreciated, you know? I haven’t had somebody to talk to like this since—” he stopped.

Since.

Since Gwen.

In the time Peter’s known you, not once did he think about her. Then that horrible sinking feeling in his gut came. Years of falling and learning how to get back up went down the drain because he was reminded once again of what he lost. His thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, all of them connecting back to that one fact that he was sure would haunt him forever: Gwen Stacy was dead and she would stay dead and Peter couldn’t do anything about that, no matter how much he wished he could. Somewhere, deep down, a part of him never really grew up. How could he? What gave him the right to live the life he wanted when she couldn’t live hers because he couldn’t catch her?

Then you came into his life and pulled him out of his self-imposed exile. All at once, it was you flooding his senses and you weren’t even there. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

May could only watch her nephew go through a whole lifetime’s worth of pain all over again. In a flash, he was gone. May Parker was alone.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to leave his apartment. He couldn’t bear to let May see him like that again. He couldn’t… It felt too much like the first time. It felt too much like losing his uncle and his girlfriend. He didn’t want to relive it. New York’s skies were painted pink and orange as the sun began to set, but all he could think about was getting away. His feet simply walked and walked and walked, his mind in a haze until finally, finally, he stopped at the headstone that haunted him for so long.

Gwendolyne Maxine Stacy

Beloved daughter and friend

March 2, 1996 - July 2014

A breath he didn’t know he was holding in escaped him. It had been nearly a decade since she died. She would’ve been twenty-seven. The air felt colder somehow, but Peter, even with his scientific mind, wanted to believe that she was there with him in that moment. He wanted to believe that Gwen Stacy never truly left. It was true, in a way. It was Peter that kept her alive, even if it was only in memory.

“Gwen, help me out,” he whispered. “Help me out, please. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

He struggled to keep his composure.

“I met someone, Gwen. It was an accident. Their dog was all over the place and for some reason, he chose me. Gave me his ball to throw. And then they came along and GOD! They’re just— They’ve been nothing but kind to me, but I just can’t… I can’t do that to you. Never to you. And I know what you would say and how I’m an idiot but,” his voice wavered. “How can I ever look at anybody else the way I looked at you?”

Soft footsteps came from behind him.

“You can’t, sweetheart,” May placed her hand on his shoulder. “You can’t look at anybody that way you did Gwen. What you had with her was special. It was you and her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start something new. Something entirely different and just as special. You know this is what she would’ve wanted for you, why would you deny her that, Peter?”

The dam broke.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

May held him tight. She didn’t know how long she stayed there in the cold with Peter, but the moment that little boy was left on her doorstep, she knew she would do anything for him. No longer was he little, but he was her boy, and he always will be. If she had to rub circles on his back for as long as he needed to pour his heart out to the world, she would do it. So she did.

You didn’t hear from Peter for the next few days. He always managed to evade you at work and when you did see him, he avoided your gaze and left as soon as he could instead of hanging around to chat about random stuff like he always did. You would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Peter was probably your first true friend in this city. He looked out for you in ways nobody ever bothered to, even people you’ve known your whole life. Peter Parker was your friend and you were determined to get to the heart of the problem and fix it.

Miraculously, you caught him just as he was about to leave the lobby. Hearing his name from your lips stopped him in his tracks, so he turned around to face you. You knew what he was going to say. It was going to be another excuse to leave and not talk to you.

“Oh, hey!” he greeted lamely. “Look, I can’t stay around for too long, I have to—”

“Cut the shit, Parker,” you hissed. If it came out harsher than you intended, you didn’t care. You deserved to know whatever it was that made him start avoiding you like the plague. “What’s going on with you? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because it’s definitely something!”

He was caught. With nothing else up his sleeves, he pleaded quietly, “Not here. I’ll tell you, I promise, I just… Not here.”

A couple of hours later, you were face to face with his door. You hesitated to knock and as if on cue, Peter opened the door with a tired smile. His hair was damp and he was dressed in a shirt much too large for him and plaid sweatpants. He smelled of cheap bar soap and mint toothpaste. For a moment, all you could feel was him. It took all of your strength to push that thought to the back of your mind. There was a more important matter at hand, and that was figuring out what was bothering your friend.

He ushered you inside and you both awkwardly next to each other on his worn out couch. The broken leather pricked your legs every now and then through the old bedsheet Peter covered the couch with. All the confidence you mustered up throughout the day to confront him was lost now. You fiddled anxiously with the strings of a throw pillow, avoiding Peter’s gaze.

He broke the silence, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself recently but… what I did to you this week was wrong. Sorry. Again.”

You sighed. This wasn’t easy at all. The words came out before you could think, “I know. I just wish you would tell me. I think I deserve to at least know why you’ve been acting this way.”

Your heart thrummed in both anticipation and fear. Peter, with his enhanced everything, could hear it. That’s when he took in the sight before him. You were so gorgeous; an angel on Earth in his eyes. You, so beautiful in ways he didn’t think was possible, sat in his living room because you were concerned. May’s words of wisdom echoed in his mind. She was right. What he had with Gwen was special, she was his first love, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t form something new. It took all this time to realize he wanted to build that with you. Your eyes told him everything you didn’t say out loud. You cared. You cared, you cared, you cared. He loved you.

Peter Parker loved you. He just had to figure out a way to say it.

He was sure he looked weird in that moment. You stared at him so intensely, trying to figure out the enigma that was his emotions. His hands found yours and the first thing you could think was how warm they were. He squeezed, as if trying to reassure himself that you were real and that this was happening.

“I lost someone. She… she was my girlfriend,” he began shakily, trying to find the right words to describe the massive lump of something in his chest. “Her name was Gwen. We met in high school. All these years, I’ve tried to hold on to her. You know, to keep her alive in some way. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that maybe I was doing more harm than good.”

There it was. It was all out in the open now, bits and pieces of his heart sprawled out across the floor as he waited for your reaction. Thousands of scenarios ran through his head, all of them ending in you leaving him alone. Each version of you in his mind reflected the guilt he bottled up for nearly a decade, screaming at him and cursing him for the things he’s done and the things he couldn’t do. Then he felt your arms wrap around him. He didn’t even realize he was already crying.

“Peter Parker, you are a good person. I might not know the full story, but if she loved you as much as you loved her, then I know for a fact that she would want you to be happy. You deserve that. She deserves that.”

You prepared yourself for his protest; for him to rebut everything you just said. You hoped you said the right thing but nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next.

“If you keep saying things like that, I’ll fall in love with you even more.”

It was so quiet, just a little above a hushed whisper that you could almost fool yourself into thinking he didn’t say it if it wasn’t for that fact that his hold on you got tighter. He must’ve seen the confusion on your face because he spoke again, “I hated myself for falling in love with you because I thought it was a disrespect to Gwen’s memory. I wish I couId say I didn’t see it coming. I always knew I would love you. I just didn’t want to see it.”

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed there, his confession lingering in the air you breathed. It might be a trick of the mind, but you knew it was sweet. Peter pulled away; too kind, too selfless, too afraid to consider the possibility that you might just feel the same.

“Peter—”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Peter—”

“—ruin everything we had, I just couldn’t—”

“Peter!”

He gulped, clearly not expecting you to stop him from rambling. In his mind, you deserved an apology. In yours, you deserved a chance to speak.

“Peter,” you spoke softly, trying to reassure him that you weren’t offended in any way. “Have you ever once considered that maybe I like you too?”

Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Peter learned to tune out the stimuli in his environment. It used to bother him so much; hearing and smelling and feeling everything all at once got overwhelming. Now, when all his senses pointed back to you, he finds he doesn’t mind at all. In that moment, he was so sure he’d die a happy man if your face was the last thing he ever saw. It took him a while to respond to your own confession, too wrapped in all of you to think clearly.

He asked you if you were sure. You said yes. He asked you again. You kissed him.

The feeling of your lips on his both grounded him and blew him away. Somewhere in between that make-out session, his hands found yours. He decided this felt right. Maybe Peter will never fully overcome his own insecurities, and there was a lot of them. He was worried he was too tired, too beaten-down for you… and that didn’t even begin to describe the fear he felt knowing that you would have to find out about Spider-Man at some point. Again, he was reminded of your friendship and your kindness. You had given it to him so freely. He just needed to take another leap of faith and learn to trust himself as much as you did.

When November came, Peter didn’t find the air so chilly anymore. Not with you around.

#tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter x you #andrew garfield #peter parker x reader #andrew! peter parker #marvel fanfic

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jetsetlife138 · 3 months

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Imaginary: Reimagined (Alastor-Fem!Reader) - Chapter 2

A Multi-Chapter Story

Previous Chapters: Intro / Chapter 1

Chapter 2: The Introduction

Chapter Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: Reader experiences intense feelings of anxiety, discomfort, fear, and unwanted attention from a certain Radio demon.

Startled by the unexpected greeting, you pivoted swiftly in search of the elusive voice. Given the distinct static overlay accompanying the speaker, you initially anticipated seeing an antiquated television or vintage radio. However, to your astonishment, the origin was far more ominous.

The towering, gaunt figure before you exuded a distressing aura, his malevolence etched into every line of his sinister visage. As you examined him further, a labyrinth of unique features unfolded like a tapestry of the macabre, each detail more entrancingly unsettling than the last.

His penetrating leer felt like it could scorch the very depths of your soul, his eyes smoldering with an otherworldly crimson fire. The blood-red sclera lent an eerie depth, complemented by cinober irises that glowed with a supernatural intensity. Thin black pupils, sharp and unwavering, bore mercilessly into whosoever dared to meet his gaze. A burgundy oval-shaped monocle rimmed with sleek black adorned his right eye, adding an air of sophistication to his countenance.

A mischievous, broad smile unfurled across his face, a wicked crescent that exposed a set of teeth colored like sulfurous flames—sharp, pointed, and reminiscent of shards of amber. Each tooth, a gleaming weapon, hinted at a predator's cunning, a testament to the calculated danger that lurked behind the veneer of his baleful grin.

Crowning his head, peculiarity manifested in an unconventional hairstyle—an unruly cascade of fiery strawberry-red, meticulously cropped with a rebellious flair. The tips, dipped in the deepest black, created a striking contrast. Two audacious tufts of hair, tipped in the same jet black, extended defiantly from the apex, creating a distinctive silhouette, adding an almost devilish semblance.

Perched atop this vibrant display were two small, elegant black antlers—a subtle yet distinctive touch that further emphasized his unearthly presence. Together, the hairstyle and the antlers wove a tale of defiance and mystique, marking him as a character who embraced the havoc within, turning it into a crown of eccentricity.

His attire, further validating his enigmatic persona, consisted of a carmine pinstripe coat and dark cherry lapels lined with stark white; the garment exuded an air of both elegance and decay. Torn and ragged along the hem, it hinted at a history filled with battles and untold challenges. Beneath the coat, a bright red dress shirt with a bold ebony cross on the chest hinted at more profound symbolism. A black knotted bowtie with a ruby center adorned his neck, giving the apparel a subtle touch of formality.

His hands, sheathed in sable gloves, each fingertip adorned with a flash of dramatic scarlet, adding a touch of theatrical flair to his gestures as though every movement was part of an elaborate performance. Completing the ensemble, obsidian pointed-toe boots at his feet, their tips dipped in a fiery red, as if the ground itself ignited in his presence.

Maintaining a poised stance with impeccable posture, he stood with shoulders pulled back and chin elevated in a decorous and dignified pose. One arm rested gracefully behind his back, enhancing the implication of formality. At the same time, the other gripped a staff crowned by what looked to be an unusual microphone fixture, hinting at a strange fusion of worlds in his grasp.

This ambiguous figure stood as a walking paradox, a haunting blend of elegance and menace, sophistication and chaos.

Sensing your trepidation, his grin widened even further into a wicked expression that seemed to relish in your stunned reaction as well as the element of surprise. “Tongue-tied already?”

Apologizing nervously, you stumbled over your words and cleared your throat before mustering a hesitant greeting, "Um... hello."

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, sweetheart!" he exclaimed, extending his hand to clasp yours forcefully. The unexpected strength in his grip caught you off guard, smoothly drawing you closer—a bold move that sent a tingling sensation through you as you struggled to reclaim your composure. "Alastor, at your service. An absolute pleasure, I must say!"

A subtle crackle in the air marked a palpable shift, signaling a sudden transformation in his demeanor. In the blink of an eye, his welcoming host facade vanished. In its place emerged the persona of a beguiling gentleman, his intentions now veering towards the less honorable. Undeterred, he continued his greeting; his charismatic glamor, now laced with an undeniable allure, hinted at lurking danger beneath the surface. "And you, my enchanting mystery, what should I call you?" With a subtle yet commanding touch, he pressed a refined and tender kiss to the back of your hand, each second stretching into eternity as his intense gaze remained fixed on yours.

Despite your desire to reclaim your hand, it remained ensnared in his firm grip, rendering your haphazard attempts futile. Staring back at him, completely captivated, you failed to muster even the most straightforward responses, such as your own name. His aura derailed you far more than the demons you had encountered when you first arrived, surpassing even the ones who posed more direct threats.

Incoherent and nonsensical words stumbled out of your mouth, the quiver in your voice reflecting the unease that enveloped you in the magnetic field of his presence.

Growing impatient, the demon interjected, "Surely, you possess a name of your own. Come now, don't be a canceled stamp. What moniker belongs to such a captivating individual as yourself?"

As he continued speaking, you noticed his language unmistakably belonged to a bygone era. The vintage phrases and rapid-fire delivery echoed the dialogue of old black-and-white movies you had encountered over the years, particularly those with brisk and lively commentary.

His manner of speech carried a peculiar mix of disconcerting enticement, seamlessly melded with his overall style and disposition. A fleeting thought crossed your mind, contemplating whether it was a carefully crafted act or if he could indeed be a relic from the 1930s. In your current setting, where boundaries between eras blurred, the possibility of him being a genuine product of the past could be as likely as any other extraordinary occurrence in Hell.

Drawing a deep breath to steady your nerves, you eventually yielded, surrendering your name to the demon. Alastor, as you now knew him, flashed his ever-present grin, the twisted mirth dancing in his eyes as if he had just secured a coveted prize. The lobby's light seemed to flicker in tandem with the sinister satisfaction on his face.

"Why, that's absolutely delightful," he declared, testing the sound of your name on his lips. "It just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? Splendid! Now, forgive my curiosity, but you don't strike me as a local." It was challenging to focus on his words as Alastor's eyes bore into yours, like embers dancing in the shadows. His impeccable manners and theatrical gestures were a stark contrast to the ominous air that surrounded him.

Collecting yourself, you felt your pulse quicken as you stammered, "W-what gives you that impression?" It was a feeble attempt to challenge his assumptions, but even as the words left your lips, a moment of realization struck, making you feel somewhat foolish. The truth was painfully obvious – you were undeniably human, not a demon. The air around you seemed to tighten with an awkward silence, a palpable acknowledgment of the absurdity that hung in the space between you and Alastor.

"Well, my dear," he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes, "first and foremost, you're alive. There hasn't been a living soul down here in… well, ever, to my knowledge. Your heartbeat practically sings in this abyss of torment!" His tone carried a mix of mischief and genuine fascination as if he had stumbled upon a rare and captivating treasure. "Quite the twist, isn't it?"

Another chill crept up your spine, the realization settling in that Alastor's interest extended far beyond mere pleasantries. Each syllable he uttered bore the weight of a concealed agenda, leaving you to navigate the labyrinth of his enchantment cautiously.

"Secondly," he continued, visibly unfazed by your gawking stare, "You're quite noticeably average. Hell is brimming with anthropomorphic beings. I regret to inform you that you stick out rather drastically. If your intention was to be discreet, it appears you're off your trolley!"

Perplexed, you furrowed your brow. His attempts at communication through outdated terminology failed to resonate and left you even more bewildered. "Sorry, what?"

He laughed heartily in response to your evident confusion, delighting in the disorientation you were experiencing as he playfully tapped the microphone on the top of his staff. "Hello! Is this thing on? Can you read me loud and clear?"

Battered by the relentless onslaught of mayhem and Alastor's nonsensical banter, you felt your sanity teetering on the brink of collapse. The unyielding pandemonium you had continuously endured was reaching its limit, and the existential panic lingering in your mind was now threatening to surface. You felt the unraveling of your composure, desperate for a moment of peace.

Sensing the strain on your waning mental stability, Alastor abruptly ceased his heckling. A sudden stillness replaced the dastardly mirth as he offered assistance, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Forgive me, I've been a bit uncouth. I reckon you've had quite the day with all these novel experiences! What might I fetch for you to aid in a moment of repose? Some giggle water? A gasper, perhaps?"

Once again, the unfamiliar jargon failed to resonate, intensifying your confusion. The unexpected, yet supposedly sincere, offer of abetment from the intimidating demon further disoriented you. The interaction alluded to a hidden layer of complexity within him, contributing to the overall intrigue surrounding his character.

Despite your efforts to remain composed, a heavy sigh escaped you, vocalizing the frustration that had taken place within. Your hands found solace in cradling your head, a physical manifestation of the turmoil that enveloped your thoughts.

"Look, it's Alastor, right?" His nod of confirmation prompted you to proceed as you dropped your hands to a less manic stance. "Okay, Alastor. I'm sensing a disconnect here. I'm not sure if this—" you gestured toward him, observing the quizzical tilt of his head before continuing, "... old-timey persona is your 'shtick' or whatever… But, honestly, I can't deal with this right now. While I appreciate your hospitality, up until earlier today, everything in my life was perfectly normal. Now, I'm trapped in some bizarre cartoon universe filled with humanoid monsters who apparently want me dead, and I'm having a hard time coping. So, could you give me a minute? Please?" The pain in your voice was evident, a desperate request for a moment of calm amidst the surreal madness that had become your reality.

A profound silence settled between you. Alastor's piercing gaze carefully scrutinized you while he pondered your words. While his perpetual smile never faltered, a subtle nuance in how he regarded you conveyed a hint of disappointment. It was as if he feared he had inadvertently damaged his newfound source of entertainment before fully indulging in its potential.

"Dear, I was only–"

"You heard her! Back off!"

You and Alastor swiftly redirected your focus as a commanding voice resonated across the lobby. Emerging from the distance was a feminine figure resembling a moth adorned with long white hair elegantly secured by a vibrant cherry bow. A prominent X marked her left eye, accentuating her distinctive appearance.

As the figure drew closer, you noticed the disapproving scowl etched across her face, which looked pointedly fixed on Alastor. The tension in the air heightened as the unexpected ally intervened, her presence signaling a shift in the unfolding dynamic.

"Vagatha," Alastor greeted with cool nonchalance, an almost dismissive nod accompanying his words. "Right on cue."

"That's not my name," The moth-like woman mumbled under her breath, her narrowed eyes betraying a lingering suspicion. Yet, when her attention turned to you, her demeanor transformed. A warm smile replaced the scowl, and she placed her hands protectively on your shoulders, instantly creating a sense of comfort.

"I'm Vaggie," she introduced herself amicably. "Don't let this guy scare you off. Somehow, he wormed his way into becoming the hotel's Facility Manager, but that's on a probationary period. He's already on thin ice." Vaggie's gaze shot back to Alastor, a glare loaded with unspoken challenges. Alastor, however, seemed to relish in the confrontation, his eyes crinkling in mischievous glee.

"Charlie got held up on an important phone call, so she sent me to help get you settled until she can meet up with us. Come on, we've got a room ready for you upstairs." The promise of sanctuary in the form of a bedroom thrilled you, a welcome reprieve from the brewing storm in the lobby.

"Thank you, that sounds great," you agreed, your response punctuated by a nervous swallow. You were still attempting to stifle any apprehension triggered by Vaggie and Alastor's unique features. Turning back to Alastor, you offered a polite farewell. "It was nice to meet you, Alastor. I guess I'll see you around."

To your astonishment, you recoiled as his teeth seemed to sharpen even further, the unwavering smile on his face widening at your acknowledgment. "Oh, yes, dearest. Sooner than you think," he purred, his words dripping with a subtle menace that left a trail of anticipation in their wake. The air thickened as Alastor's gaze lingered on you, a predator watching its prey, as you turned to follow Vaggie towards the large, creaking staircase.

As you climbed the grand staircase, the glare of the lobby gave way to the soft glow of sconces that adorned the walls, casting flickering shadows along the ornate patterns of the carpet. The plush and intricate designs felt as though they absorbed the echo of your footsteps, creating an atmosphere of subtle refinement.

Vaggie led you through the upper landing, the ambience changing as you ascended. A faint scent of aged wood lingered, intermingled with the distant wails of Hell's tormented souls. It was a disturbing reminder of the realm you found yourself in.

"Your room is just down there," she said, her tone easing into a more casual cadence as she gestured ahead. The subtle tension of the encounter with Alastor seemed to dissipate with each step. "Sorry about that weird thing with Alastor. He's... unique. But don't worry, you're in good hands now."

The hallway unfolded as a corridor of opulence, with ambient lighting casting a vermillion gleam upon the dark, polished wood of the ornate doors that lined either side. Vaggie halted before a particularly imposing door, turning to you with a small, apologetic smile. "This is it. Your new home, at least for the time being." The door's intricate carvings and richly hued finish hinted at the luxury within, offering a glimpse into the mysterious haven that awaited you.

Entering the room, you were met with a surprisingly cozy atmosphere. The large bed dominated the space, adorned in rich crimson and gold bedding. Four beams stood proudly on each corner, supporting a black canopy that added an air of elegance. With their shears drawn, the two giant windows along the wall hinted at consideration for your well-being, shielding you from whatever horrors lurked below. Despite the obscured view, the city's lights cast a warm and inviting glow into the room.

A large, regal dresser stood proudly between the windows, a vast mirror attached on top reflecting the refined atmosphere of the room. Against the opposite wall, an armoire added a touch of vintage charm, and in the corner, a matching vanity whispered of bygone elegance. A door beckoned on the opposite end of the room, leading to your private en-suite bathroom.

Vaggie, her posture casual yet observant, leaned against the wall, her eyes following your every move. "It's not exactly the Ritz, but it's got its own flair."

You turned to face her, the weight of the day's events still etched on your features. "Flair might be an understatement, Vaggie. This place is..." You searched for the right word as you regarded the room. "Impressive."

She chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet space. "Hell has a way of blending horror with splendor, doesn't it? Anyway, make yourself at home." Stepping back to survey the space again, you marveled at how it had met your needs and exceeded them.

Captivated by the allure of your new living space, you nearly missed Charlie's spirited entrance. Bursting through the doorway, her radiant expression illuminated the room like a burst of sunlight, and she greeted you with unbridled enthusiasm. "Welcome!" she exclaimed, extending her arms to accentuate her elation. "I hope that this space will suffice. If you need any other accommodations, I'm sure our gracious Facility Manager will happily assist!"

A derisive snort from Vaggie redirected your attention, her skepticism evident as she shot Charlie a sidelong glance. "Yeah, our 'gracious' Facility Manager has a knack for overstepping boundaries and could learn a thing or two about minding his own damn business. You're better off coming to me or Charlie for anything you need."

Charlie, undeterred by Vaggie's cynicism, chimed in with an eager smile. "Oh, we'd be thrilled to help with whatever you need!" Her eyes sparkled with genuine sincerity as she moved closer to Vaggie, intertwining their fingers as if grounding herself in their shared strength. As she took Vaggie's hand in hers, Charlie's gaze lingered with adoration. "Vaggie has done so much to help get this place up and running. She's not just my right hand; she's my better half."

Vaggie smiled sheepishly, trying to conceal her blush. Charlie planted a delicate kiss on Vaggie's cheek before turning her attention back to you, adopting a more serious tone. "Listen, I know this must all be pretty terrifying, and you must be so scared, but we've got you, I promise."

"Try to keep a low profile," Vaggie encouraged, placing a hand on her hip as she stood confidently. "Keep to yourself, avoid any potentially dangerous situations, and most importantly, stay away from the Shitlord. If you can do that, you should be fine until we can figure out how to get you home."

You blinked, puzzled by the peculiar term. "I'm sorry, the 'Shitlord'?"

"Alastor," she grumbled, ignoring Charlie's subtle scowl. "Our not-so-friendly neighborhood Radio Demon."

"Why should I avoid him?" you inquired, your interest piqued, especially after your earlier encounter. "If he's here helping to redeem sinners, he can't be that bad, right?"

The conflicting responses from Charlie and Vaggie painted a vivid picture of the polarizing figure that was Alastor. Charlie's eyes lit up with loyalty, defending the demon's actions, while Vaggie's glare spoke volumes about her mistrust.

"He's an ass," Vaggie stated bluntly, not mincing her words. It was clear she had little patience for the potentially problematic Radio Demon.

"He's not!" Charlie interjected, her tone almost pleading. "He… has a certain reputation, is all. I can't just assume that every demon that walks through our doors has bad intentions. We've got to give him a chance. He's been nothing but helpful since he's arrived."

Quirking your brow, you glanced back and forth between them as Vaggie rolled her eyes. "Charlie is endearingly optimistic."

As you observed the dynamic between Charlie and Vaggie, you noticed the subtle interplay of emotions – Charlie's infectious optimism and Vaggie's more cautious demeanor. The room's atmosphere shifted, transitioning from the initial excitement to a more serious undertone. The warmth of the welcome clashed with the ominous warning about the unpredictable Radio Demon.

Vaggie's gaze hardened as she met your eyes, a stern expression on her face. "Seriously, it's for your own safety. Alastor might come off as charming, but there's a reason other demons keep their distance. He's one of Hell's most feared Overlords. He's unpredictable, and you never know what he's up to. Just steer clear of him, okay?"

Charlie tried to diffuse the tension with a comforting smile. "We're just looking out for you. The Hotel can be hectic, and we want you to feel at home." Her words carried a gentle reassurance, attempting to balance Vaggie's wariness and her own hopefulness.

Vaggie sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "Just trust me on this one. He isn't just a happy face; he's a creep we've reluctantly allowed to help us. And the last thing we need is an innocent, unsuspecting soul falling under his influence."

A momentary flicker of doubt passed over Charlie's expressive eyes, but she swiftly regained her composure. "Alright, let's not dwell on this too much tonight. You must be exhausted," she said, her concern palpable. "We'll talk more tomorrow. If you need anything else, Vaggie and I are just down the hall, last door on the left."

"Got it," you affirmed, inclining your head in gratitude.

"Oh! And don't be alarmed if you cross paths with some of the other hotel staff," Charlie resumed, her enthusiasm returning. "Niffty is our diligent housekeeper, and Husk is our skilled bartender."

"At the moment, we only have two other guests," Vaggie chimed in, her tone more pragmatic. "Sir Pentious is usually occupied with his little minions and shouldn't be too much of a nuisance. Angel Dust is another story. If he bothers you, just ignore him. Or strangle him. Either one works."

"Will do," you chuckled, her attempt at humor injecting a welcome lightness into the atmosphere. "Thank you so much. I don't know what else to say. I'd probably be dead by now if you hadn't found me. It means a lot that you'd go through so much trouble for someone you don't know."

"Happy to help," Charlie replied, her sympathetic smile providing tender reassurance. "Get some rest!"

With those words, the two exited the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Eager for a distraction, you sauntered to the windows, drawing back the curtain and peering through the grimy glass.

Hell unfolded its macabre grandeur before your eyes. The twisted, decrepit structures that lined the streets challenged the laws of architecture. Each building, crooked and battered, exuded an eerie magnetism that hinted at the horrors within. The air was tinged with a paranormal quality, a discordant symphony of colors and shadows playing on the blood-splattered streets.

As you contemplated the surreal spectacle, a question involuntarily danced through your mind—what form would encapsulate your essence in this infernal realm? Would you morph into a whimsical creature, an embodiment of the anarchy that defined Hell, or perhaps manifest as an object reflecting the remnants of your earthly existence? The sheer absurdity of the thought evoked a quiet laughter that bubbled up from deep within, a coping mechanism against the overwhelming horror surrounding you.

"Remarkable, isn't it?"

The unexpected voice, a sinister melody that sliced through the eerie silence, prompted an involuntary yelp. You spun around with a start, almost stumbling over yourself, only to find Alastor standing in your bedroom doorway. The unnerving permanence of his smile rattled you while his eyes, gleaming with an otherworldly intelligence, seemed to leer at you.

"Jesus Christ!" you choked out, a hand instinctively clutching your chest to steady the frantic beat of your heart.

"Hmm… not quite," Alastor replied, his grin deepening, causing his eyes to crease with malevolent cheerfulness. "Forgive me, miss. A gentleman should refrain from intruding upon a lady's private domain. However, our earlier conversation was abruptly cut short, and I am not one to leave matters unresolved," he continued, twirling his staff with a casual flourish. "I would be remiss if I did not take advantage of this rare opportunity. Would you grant me the pleasure of your company, perhaps for a brisk stroll?"

Your eyes narrowed, wrestling with the uncertainty of his intentions. On one hand, curiosity was a shared sentiment; however, Vaggie had explicitly warned against spending any time with Alastor. Additionally, your suspicion that Alastor's interest in you concealed darker motives had only intensified since your previous encounter.

Observing your hesitation, Alastor's low, rumbling chuckle reverberated through the air like an ominous prelude, the static overlay even more prevalent than before. He casually leaned against the doorframe, his dark silhouette swallowing the feeble light in the room.

"No need to be so guarded, sweetheart," Alastor drawled, his voice an unnatural blend of charisma and menace. "I'm merely captivated by the anomaly of a living soul gracing Hell's grounds. You see, it's not every day we welcome a newcomer like yourself." Despite his attempt at reassurance, the room felt suffocating, as if his presence tainted the entire space. "You couldn't have arrived at a more intriguing time," Alastor continued, his eyes glinting with a vicious spark. "It seems fate has a sense of humor, placing a delicate creature like you amidst the chaos of Hell–and so soon after an extermination!"

Your eyebrows furrowed, skepticism etching lines on your face as you shot him a look that bordered on irritation. "Am I supposed to know what an 'extermination' is?"

"Sweet girl, an extermination is a grand spectacle of Hellish proportions! It's a symphony of destruction orchestrated to cleanse and reset the infernal balance," Alastor explained, his words dripping with macabre enthusiasm. The way he spoke made it sound like he reveled in the mayhem. "And you, my unsuspecting guest, have stepped directly into the aftermath."

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest, a mix of defiance and fear lacing your words. "Is this your idea of a sick joke?"

Alastor leaned back, a wicked grin still playing on his lips as if savoring the fear dancing in your eyes. "Who's joking?" he jested, his voice resonating with a chilling levity.

You eyed him warily, the manic in his eyes intensifying. "So, what's your role in all of this? Are you some kind of demonic tour guide or a sadistic host?"

He hummed softly as he mused. "Oh, you could say I wear many hats. But most importantly, for the time being, I'm here to make your stay in Hell as... entertaining as possible."

His words dripped with a malicious promise, each syllable carrying the weight of an unspoken threat. As he spoke, the air around you seemed to thicken with an unsettling energy, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were just beginning to scratch the surface of the twisted game that Alastor had set before you.

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

Chapter End Notes: Okay, I'm seeking honest opinions here... is my writing TOO complex? I feel like I'm using a lot of words that aren't used in everyday conversation, and I worry about any unsuspecting readers whose first language isn't English. It concerns me that they might struggle with comprehension and have it take away from their experience. I don't want to stress anyone out. Does that make sense? I'm an overthinker, so any feedback is appreciated!

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazin hotel imaginary #fanfiction #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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000marie198 · 3 months

Text

Over the years, Nine had gotten used to the ambience of his underground lab. A calm silence on the best of days, ringing one on the worst but it was his nonetheless. His lab, his safe haven away from the tyrant ruled city above. Away from the monsters who'd brought him nothing but pain and misery.

Underground, it was safe.

The labyrinth of tunnels he knew like the back of his hand, skulking through them as sneakily as a spider in its own web. No citizens knew but the underground system was Nine's territory.

Still, an additional reassurance of security wouldn't hurt. Hence, the password-protected metal door so nobody can catch him off guard in his own home in case they ever stumbled across the lab. He had chosen the perfect spot for his lab, far away from any maintenance tunnels or security rooms, out of sight of any cameras and sentries, away from the patrol routes of the Resistance spies.

The calm isolation helped him work. He had gotten used to the mixture of silence and noise. The humming of lights and machinery, buzz of electricity running through concrete and metal walls, the rumbling vibrations of the train as it passed outside every half hour. It was routine, it was a semblance of a home.

His life was far from great, he didn't even know what a good life is supposed to be except for being left to his devices without getting beaten up. It was a far cry from the years of his childhood - he sometimes forgot he was a child still - when he would be jumped by one or another bully just for having an abnormality. The seven metal appendages he built to fight back covered his abnormality in an illusion of a single tail. Rarely ever he got disturbed about it afterwards, managing to blend in with the crowd whenever he had to venture out and then back in, ignored without a second thought. He preferred it over being the center of some horrid attention.

He preferred his hidden away lab in the bowels of the city over being someone's neighbor in the skyscrapers above. It was too dull and depressing, too noisy. He couldn't work in that environment, with the monotone buzz of sentries and Egg Forcers, the smog that made the air thick and hard to breathe in, the boom of speakers on those darn balloons saying "You're Welcome". Nine would scoff. Welcome, yeah right.

No way he would ever live up there. He wouldn't even be given enough peace to sketch a blueprint, let alone build something. He liked the combination of silence and routinely noise in his isolated lab thank you very much. The muffled screech of the vehicle arriving followed by the deep rumble in the walls before silence fell once more, back to the hum and buzz of his treasured creations and dim fluorescents.

No matter how repetitive, Nine liked the ambience of that place. It helped him think, kept him calm, helped him create to his heart's content. He would sometimes get so lost in his work that day and night blended into one -not that it made much of a difference either way - and he would lose track of the hours.

It was one of those days when someone swivelled him to face towards the person and away from his work desk. That moment, all of Nine's fears and fight or flight instincts had kicked into overdrive.

His home was discovered.

He tried to fight back, scare him away, the persistent and annoying intruder.

Nine believed himself a spider facing a fly that wandered into his web. He didn't expect to get stuck on one of his own threads.

Terror ran through him as the train almost crushed him, and then he was saved.

By the same stranger who had managed to find his place, managed to unlock his door without a single alarm going off in case someone entered an incorrect password.

That day, Nine learned about joy and companionship, felt safe around someone for the first time in his life, learned that there's a lot more to a good life than he could've ever known.

That day, Nine's life had taken a sudden unexpected swerve into the unknown.

The unknown led him to a place even better than the one he had lived in the past handful of years. Silent, isolated, empty, just what his heart had wished. A dream home he never knew he wanted.

The Grim.

What started out with hope and happiness, shoved him through pain and determination and betrayal and anger and heartache. His beacon of hope, his reason to feel joy for the first time in his life felt tainted. It hurt him and yet he couldn't bring himself to rebuild the walls that were taken down, couldn't bring himself to destroy the half-built bridge no matter how much his heart urged him to.

He has seen on the other side, a part of him didn't want to lose the pathway to the other side.

What he didn't look at was the flames of his rage burning all the other places hidden beyond the rest of his walls. His urge to snatch what he needed to fix his broken home and bring colors to it would destroy what lay beyond the bridge. The reason behind his hope and joy and anger and pain.

He would have to destroy that reason to bring back what everyone lost.

And then, Sonic was gone.

And Nine was alone, as was promised to him.

It was what he wanted, wasn't it? What he always wished for. His lab was here, brighter than it was back then, with a much cooler change in aesthetic. A touch of color, a touch of openness, a mark of Sonic still left in the existence of palm trees and a hammock.

He would've loved it if he were here.

The ambience of his lab in the Grim was different than New Yoke. There was the silence he had wanted, the isolation.

But he couldn't bring himself to build things anymore. The silence was too deafening, the echoes of his tool too loud. The lights didn't hum, the buzz of machinery carrying too many painful flashbacks.

He couldn't stop hearing the screams in his memory every time he heard the buzz. Grim was somehow more silent and still louder than New Yoke.

It felt less and less like something that should've been a home and more like a prison.

Why did it feel so much worse even though the situation was much better than New Yoke could ever hope to be, where he had to be constantly alert of everything around him anytime he headed out? Where the air was thick and unbreathable any time he headed outside his lab?

This place had colors but was too lifeless, calm and peaceful but dripping in sorrow.

Was it because his conception of a good life had changed? New Yoke's lab used to feel like an ideal home but that was then. Now thinking back on it, it was so much worse than what he had known.

Sound simulations did nothing to bring him back in the mood. He couldn't create anymore.

He liked the ambience here so much more but...

It was empty. Grim... Heh

The darkness of sleep consumed him and he welcomed it over his pained thoughts.

When he came to, he felt weak, too tired to move. His mind was empty and he felt whole and safe. Home... Nine felt he was seeing things, that he was in a dream when he saw the ones he thought he'd never see again.

Murmured conversations he felt too delirious too remember the words of but knew he had had. He no longer heard the eery silence, nor the loud buzz, just soothing murmur of familiar voices, familiar presence.

That moment, Nine hadn't realized his life would be taking another turn.

That day, Nine finally cried. And things spiraled and turned around for the better. Grim no longer held him contained, he was being taken to his real home, the one he never knew he deserved, the one he never realized he had needed.

Time passed, before he found himself in a lab, same bunk bed and desk and computer screen that he always had but not shrouded in shades of grey nor violet.

The machinery hummed and beeped, the air wasn't thick nor still and gently swooshed around like playful wisps. The light was a combination of white fluorescent and yellow gold, the natural rays holding warmth that tickled his fur. A soothing combination of peaceful silence and gentle noise, distant chirp of flickies, taps and pitter-patter of footsteps sounding through the walls, familiar voices muffled and clear; an ambience he could get used to.

Nine's fingers twitched towards the desk and after so long, he finally built

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jettblanche · 1 year

Text

Hypnosis, brainwashing, mind control, stuff like that, hypnotic gas

All around you are images of yourself staring back at you. You are laying on the ground on black and white checkered tiles, surroundes by mirrors. The air has a faint sweet, candy-like smell, although it is barely noticable. You just woke up, but don't quite remember falling asleep.

But there really isn't any time to be thinking about that. You need to find a way out of this place and figure out how you got here. You get up and make your way through the maze, but you can't seem to make sense of your surroundings. Every time you turn, you're faced with countless images of yourself stretching back into infinity.

After a while of walking, nearly running into mirrors, and trying to map out the area, you start to get worried. You should have found the exit by now. This mirror maze must be much longer than you originally thought, a labyrinth stretching out indefinitely. You could have passed the same area dozens of times and had little to no way of knowing. Surely, you must be closer to the exit.

You persevere on, starting to get more and more dizzy and disoriented. You don't feel like you're making much progress, just making yourself more and more confused. Most mirror mazes arent quite so disorienting, and one usually figures it out sooner or later. You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with that faint sweet, candy-scented air. Maybe after a short break, you could collect your thoughts and find a way out. You sit down, close your eyes, and breath in deeply.

Before long, you forget what you were even doing. Your mind has gotten so fuzzy and so dizzy that you no longer can find a reason to continue on. Before long, you won't be able to move anyways. Whatever is in the air is making you so happy, calm, and docile that you forget everything else.

You hear a speaker come on, echoing softly throughout the maze.

"You've done very well, puppet. You're going to make a fine addition to my collection."

#minors dni #hypnokink #hypnosis #mind control #brainwashing #hypnotized #nsft rp

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amournoir · 9 months

Note

hello! how are you? I hope you're fine<3

can I ask #11a & #11b of fluff scenarios for Elijah Mikaelson?

thank you🫶🏻

Fluff Prompt | E.M {request}

℘ prompt — late night texts (11a) & phone calls (11b)

℘ warning — fluff

℘ pairing — elijah mikaelson x f!reader

℘ count — 0.9k

The moon cast a soft, silvery glow through my bedroom window as I settled into my pillows, clutching my phone. It had become a comforting ritual—a late-night text or call with him, the man who had captured my heart in a way that felt both surreal and entirely right.

My fingers danced across the screen as I typed out a simple message: Can't sleep?

I pressed send and held my breath, waiting for his reply. It didn't take long for his name to appear on my screen.

Elijah: Indeed. The night often finds me contemplating the mysteries of life.

I chuckled softly, imagining him in his distinguished attire, sat on his grand office chair in his study with his brows furrowed.

Me: Sounds deep. But don't let it keep you up too late.

A few moments passed, and I saw the three dots indicating he was typing.

Elijah: I promise, I'll try not to lose myself in the labyrinth of my thoughts tonight.

His reply came, accompanied by a playful emoji. My heart warmed at his words. Despite his centuries of existence, Elijah had a way of being both dignified and charmingly human.

As our conversation flowed, it felt like we were creating a world of our own, separate from the demands of the daylight hours. We discussed everything from literature to our favorite constellations, sharing pieces of ourselves that we might never have revealed otherwise.

Elijah: Tell me, my dear, have you ever considered that the stars might be the echoes of forgotten wishes?

His words painted a vivid image in my mind. I smiled, my heart fluttering.

Me: I've never thought of it that way, but now I can't help but imagine the night sky filled with whispered hopes.

The conversation continued, moving from dreams to laughter to the occasional playful tease. And as the night wore on, it was clear that neither of us wanted it to end. I started to feel my eyelids growing heavier with each passing minute so I thought I’d rest them for a moment. Before I was fully asleep, my phone loudly rang and jolted me awake. In a rush to pick it up, I accidentally pushed it and it fell but the ringing stopped. I figured it was probably one of my late alarms so I decided on looking for it in the morning, I couldn’t be bothered to search for it now in the dark.

Not seconds had passed when it rang again, the echo underneath my bed made it louder than before. With a frustrated groan and whine, I blindly searched the floor for it. My eyes were still shut all the while. Once I felt it, I pressed the answer button without a glance, clearly this wasn’t my first time.

“Hello? Y/N are you alright?” his voice dripped with worry.

“Eli? What’s wrong?” I asked instead.

“You didn’t respond to my texts nor did you answer your phone. I grew worried.”

I smiled in the dark to myself and calmly replied, “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Oh.”

“Aren’t you tired yet?" I could feel the sleep heavy behind my eyelids.

“Not quite,” he replied. “I just find myself drawn to the sound of your voice. It's as if the night becomes a little less lonely.”

I hummed in approval at his words and let out a soft chuckle, I couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for the man on the other end of the line.

“I feel the same way," I confessed. "Talking to you makes everything feel a little brighter.”

We talked for a few more minutes, at times we’d pause and the quiet intimacy of our conversation soothed my soul. Eventually, I yawned, unable to suppress the exhaustion any longer. I propped my phone up against my nightstand lamp so he could fully see me and pressed the speaker button. With a few turns, I was now comfortable and ready for bed. I heard noise in the background from his side and soon the view changed from his study to his bedroom. He placed his phone down then seconds later retrieved it and it was clear that he had changed into his nightwear.

“Elijah, I think it's time for me to get some sleep,” I admitted, pulling the cool pillow closer to me.

“Of course, my dear,” He replied. “Rest well, and know that I'll be here, watching, until you fall asleep.”

I felt a sense of warmth and security in his words, and I knew that I could close my eyes with a peaceful heart. I was almost sure that all the peaceful sleep I had gotten in the recent months had been due to him. He had a way of making me feel protected and safe even if we were apart.

“Goodnight Eli,” I whispered softly into the phone, letting the darkness and Elijah’s digital presence lull me to sleep.

“Sweet dreams, my love,” He responded with a smile as he made himself comfortable against the bed’s headboard.

With a contented sigh, I set my phone aside, feeling grateful for the unique connection that bound us. As I drifted into sleep, I could almost hear his voice in my mind, like a soothing melody, promising to be there whenever the night grew too quiet. And so, with the moon as our witness, our late-night conversations and calls would continue to stitch together the tapestry of our love— one text, one call at a time.

🏷️ taglist:

⤷ @mrs-maximoff-kenner @thatfanficstuff @elijahmikaelsontrash @mxacegrey @thatfictionalwh0re @catmikaelson20 @loverswillowed @sweetwrathoflilith @panic-at-the-fiction @iiskittles16ii @original-siphon @hellotvshowtrash @onlyfreds @onlyfredslibrary @imgoingtofreakoutnow @slinthoex @i-love-nora @multiversediaries @decoffinated-vamps @hopester08 @aloneatpeace @hopes-wife @softcoremaybank @klaustopia @dreamingwithrafe @sweetestdesire @cottontears @cottonreads @buckyysdoll @spnandtvdudeservedbetter @impossibleheartflower @madetragic @spike-and-angels-gf

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#request 💌#aurora’s writing prompts #fluff #aurora.r works #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson fluff #the mikaelsons #the originals

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mortalfollies · 1 month

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9 Favourite Albums - Choose 9 & then tag 9 people! Or you can do nine singles or EPs, whatever lol.

Tagging @cactus-bag @catsafari25 @labyrinthal @sleeeepy-demon @retourne-toi-eurydice @belladonnafey @scorpius-rising @cry4judas @atuans @nicey-sandokan @evyes no obligations feel free 2 ignore

Albums listed (and me rambling) under the cut

TIME - ELO: my mum's favourite album that i first Properly listened to when i was 13. it's just the best sci-fi concept album ever....i love you jeff!!

13 Tales of Love & Revenge - The Pierces: sexy indie duo, most known for the song Secret, which isn't even in the top 5 of the best songs of the album. a treasure from when i was 11, and just figuring out i like girls.

Greatest Hits - The Eagles: again, my mum's interests becoming my own. it was really hard to pick between this and Long Road Out of Eden, but ultimately the greatest hits r that for a reason.

Laurel Hell - Mitski: my fave mitski album, heat lightning is underappreciated!!! and yeah just. its about solitude. recognition but not in the way you wanted or expected. emotional rollercoaster. im not eloquent enough to describe it and mitski does it better in under 2 minutes anyway.

Strange Trails - Lord Huron: again another hard toss between this and long lost but st wins out purely bc the transitions rule, and meet me in the woods + the yawning grave make me crazyyyy. so happy i got to hear those live in jan. lord huron is like what if a cowboy was also a ghost. thats the only way i can describe it.

Electra Heart - Marina and the Diamonds: i am not immune to music i heard at 12 years old. shame she's never made anything as good as this again.

Are We Having Fun Yet? - Black/Colin Vearncombe: another one of mum's. She found this guy when someone at Sanity was playing the album over the store speakers. loved it ever since, and introduced it to me. wistful ballads, jazzy touches, a little bit sexy.

Coyote Stories - The Crane Wives: this was a 2016-18 discovery maybe? i just know i was in school. im into folk indie i cant help it.

Wasteland, Baby! - Hozier: shout out to afro-elf for posting about movement n the whole ep, which is what spurred me to actually try this dude's music. and now i love him. but wasteland baby is immaculate: no skips, he roars in some songs and is as gentle as drizzle in others.

#i just thought this might be fun #Um also i thought i would tag ppl i don’t usually tag. hi. feel free to ignore this whole thing xx #u can just send me a thumbs down emoji or smth to opt out of me ever tagging u in anything again i wont be offended #i personally picked no-skip albums #ones that just missed the cut: ungodly hour - chloe x halle transcendental youth - tmg travelling wilbury's vol 1 purple rain - prince and #and the very best of the bee gees roy orbison tom petty fleetwood mac etc. oh and 1 fob album lol.#but these albums. these ARE me. essential #If you've read this far...you've unlocked a key 🔑#key to my heart!! lmao ok bye

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dearmantis · 1 year

Text

Written Love

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Reader

Summary: As the librarian of the Grand Palace library, you're expected to take care of the books, maps, letters and other documents stored there. You don't expect the General of the Second Army to show up randomly and ask you for a book recommendation.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.4k

Authors' Note: Technically this isn't really fem!Reader but there's a part that kind of makes more sense with a fem!Reader which is why it's tagged that way, just fyi. I just want to be safe here and not disappoint anyone. The library is also inspired by the library in my home town which is huge but also very chaotic with shelves standing around everywhere, forming what's basically a big labrinth. It's really cool, honestly. This is also not edited and I'm not a native English speaker.

You smile when your eyes find him, quietly walking through the entrance of the big library, finger gliding along the spines of the many books resting in the shelves as he takes his first steps into the labyrinth of bookcases. He looks at peace here, you think.

On the few occasions where you have seen him outside of your little domain, his muscles had been tense, his jaw clenched and a cold, sharp look on his face, eyes as dark as the fold itself.

But now he looks kind. Kind and sweet and good, even in his dark, scary clothes, his big, heavy boots and bulletproof kefta. He doesn't carry himself as if his whole body is one big weapon anymore. He always takes time to speak with you when he visits, soft spoken and polite as he asks you about your day, the books you read and your work in general.

And other than the other Generals he respects the system after which the books are sorted. He puts everything back where he finds it, brings the materials he borrows back before the due date with no exceptions, and he is quiet, steps always immediately decreasing in volume as soon as he walks through the doors of your library.

Well, it's not your library, technically, but it's close enough. It's not like the king, queen or their children ever made a singular step on the dark wooden floors you sweep twice a day. No, it's just him and the other members of court who visit you.

You don't know why General Kirigan visits though. You've seen the library of the Little Palace on a few different occasions now and it's quite beautiful there. While it's definitely smaller than the library of the Grand Palace you don't think it's lacking in anything.

A part of you is tempted to compare the inventory list of the library in the Little Palace with the borrowing history of the Shadow Summoner, but you can never bring yourself to actually do it. It feels like a violation of his privacy, and what would you even do if you found out that he's borrowing books he could get in his own library here from you? It's not a crime to prefer the Grand Palace library after all, and you do have a much larger variety of books here.

And in the back of your mind there's a quiet voice, whispering that he may be coming here for you, and you fear that the voice will get louder if you choose to compare the lists and find out that he does in fact borrow books from here that he could get in the library of the Little Palace. It's a selfish, foolish thought you shouldn't entertain, but it's also the only explanation that really makes sense. The only clear differences between the Grand Palace library and the Little Palace library is the amount of books and you, and if he's not here for the books-

"Excuse me?" Your gaze finds the eyes of a young servant girl who hesitantly smiles at you. "Could you help me find a book? One of the guests has asked for a copy of Epitome Astronomiae Copernicanae. He says he has unfortunately forgotten his own copy at home and desperately needs it if he's supposed to present his own observations and research at court tomorrow."

Mirroring her smile you nod, opening the folder you use to keep track of all the books, maps and other materials currently outside of the library and placing it on the desk in front of you, before waving your hand to silently ask her to follow you.

Back when you were new here you had a small little map scribbled on a thin piece of paper that you carried everywhere with you, showing where exactly all the categories of books are positioned, but after several years here you know every shelf like the back of your hand. There's not a single book in this gigantic library that you can't locate in thirty seconds maximum, so the little scrap of paper got to retire.

Quickly moving between the many shelves you have to force yourself to slow down a bit to make sure the woman doesn't get lost on the way, waiting a few seconds every time you walk around a new shelf to make sure she can catch up, until the bookcase you're looking for is finally in sight.

You're so deeply focused on finding the book quickly that you don't even notice that someone else is standing two shelves next to this one, your eyes glued to the spines to find the fight title.

"It should be... ah! Here it is." It's a beautiful book, with carefully dyed dark blue leather binding, its title painted on in silver ink. It's so beautiful you could swear that a Fabrikator must've gotten their hands on it at some point in its creation. Slowly pulling it out of its designated place in the shelf you give it to the servant girl.

You're about to walk her back to your desk to fill out the required documents when a voice behind you stops you.

"I'm sorry, could you please help me find a book?"

Whirling around you almost freeze in place when you realise the person who asked for your help is none other than General Kirigan himself, the man himself standing a few metres away from you, spine straight and shoulders stiff in the way you've seen him act outside of the library.

How odd. I thought the library brings him comfort?

"Oh, of course! Uh..." Eyes darting between the General and the Servant for a few seconds, the young woman frees you from your predicament with another kind smile.

"I think I can find my way back to the desk on my own. If I have any trouble filling out the documents myself I will wait for you, alright?"

Nodding quickly you wave as she leaves, before turning back around to the Shadow Summoner, who's now patiently waiting a few steps away from you.

"Alright, General, what can I assist you with? Which book are you looking for?"

His gaze visibly softens, muscles slowly relaxing until he's no longer standing straight like a candle. He finally looks like the version of him you're used to again.

"I'm looking for a novel."

"A novel?" You echo, unable to stop yourself in time. "The novels are in a different corner of the library. What exactly are you looking for?"

He smiles slightly, hand moving to the back of his neck as if he's a bit embarrassed by the answer. "I would like a recommendation from you, actually."

It takes you a few seconds to register what he said. It's quite literally the last thing you expected to hear from the man.

"A recommendation?" you echo quietly, frowning, and watch as he nods.

"You spend all day around these books, and every time I'm here you're reading. I can't imagine anyone else being a better source for book recommendations than you."

To hide the bashful smile sneaking its way onto your lips you turn around, asking him to follow you as you lead him to the other side of the enormous library. This time you don't feel the need to slow down as you walk around the labyrinth of shelves, the General's long legs making sure that he's never far behind you, no matter how quick you are. You already know which book to give him, despite how sure you are that it's not going to agree with his own taste in literature.

When you finally stand in front of the right bookshelf you don't even have to look around to see where the book is, eyes automatically moving to the familiar leather bound object. "I don't think you're the type of person to be interested in this type of stuff, but it is my favorite book, so..." You whisper, more to yourself than to him, carefully pulling the book out of the shelf.

"Oh? Why is that?" the General asks, eyebrows lifting curiously.

You can feel how the apples of your cheeks heat up when you realise that he heard what you said. "Well... uhm. It's just...". It's hard to find the right words, the risk that he's going to take your comment as an insult a bit too big for your comfort. "I don't think you'd enjoy things like silly love stories."

"Silly love stories?" The General sounds scandalised, but there's an amused glimmer in his eyes that calms you down before you get a chance to start panicking.

Humming quietly you nod, holding the book out to the General. "Don't misunderstand me. I think everyone deserves to lose themselves in sweet stories, but you don't seem like the type of person to agree with my mindset. If I had to guess, I would say you're the type of man who thinks all of this soft stuff is just an unwanted distraction from the war."

He purses his lips, eyes focused on the book cover you're still holding out to him, before he carefully reaches out and removes the book from your grasp to open it and read the first page.

"What is it about? I mean, besides the love story. What is the conflict?"

When you take a few seconds to answer him his dark gaze moves to meet yours again, eyebrows slowly lifting as he waits for you to summarise the plot.

"It's, uhm..." Turns out simply recommending someone your favourite book is one thing, while actually having to summarise it to explain why they should read it is an entirely different issue. You're not sure if you can find the right words to explain the plot without sounding like a foolish, overly romantic idiot.

"It's about a servant, Sophie, and a member of the royal court who fall in love." You don't specify that the servant's love interest is technically a General. "So it's mainly about that and the taboo aspect of it, but there's also a whole war going on that is quite important in the majority of the book. It would probably be more accurate to say that it's a political drama with a romance subplot, but I loved the romance so much that it overshadowed everything else in the story for me."

When you finally finish your explanation he has that soft smile on his lips again and a warm feeling starts to become noticeable in your chest.

"Why would I not like a political drama with an outstanding love story subplot?" The shadow summoner asks.

"Well, like I said. I didn't think you would be someone who'd enjoy the love story aspect much, and I think that's what makes this book better than a lot of other political dramas."

The General looks at you for a few seconds, deep in thought, before he closes the book and starts to look through the shelves.

You want to ask him if you can help him find what he's looking for, but he holds his hand up to silence you before you even get the chance to open your mouth, as if he already knows what you were about to say.

"It should be here somewhere..." he murmurs, more to himself than to you, a deep frown on his face.

It takes a bit but after a few seconds the serious look on his face turns back into the smile you love, his hand moving to pull one of the books out of the shelf. When he holds it out for you to take there's a boyish glimmer in his eyes, a spark of excitement that you usually see in children, and you wish you could immortalise it somehow, keep it alive in this sad, tragic world. It feels special to see this type of expression on the usually cold and distant face of the Darkling. Like the Saints gave you a special gift, just for you to keep safe and cherish.

Carefully taking the book out of his hands you let your gaze glide over the ink-black leather cover for a few seconds, fingers tracing the silver drawing of a crescent moon on the front, before you open the book and begin to skim the first page.

"This is my favourite love story." he explains before you even get a chance to question why he has given you this book in particular. "This is the story of Andrei and Isolde. Andrei moves around the country, from town to town, to hide the fact that he is an immortal beast, cloaked in the skin of a human. In one of those towns he pretends to be a Prince from a foreign country and meets Isolde, a clever woman who works as a seamstress. He asks her to make him a cloak for the upcoming winter, and during the weeks she spends working on it, she begins to uncover what Andrei truly is."

Your eyes widen a bit, intrigued by the premise. "What is Andrei?"

He laughs lightly, a sound that reminds you of cold nights during the winter, drinking warm tea and reading a nice book. "You will have to read the story to figure that out."

Closing the book again you move to press it tightly against your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself in the process to stop yourself from nervously playing with your fingers, trying to force the words out before you end up wasting this glorious opportunity. Your mind is racing but this is a chance, an opening, the possible start of something new.

"How about we read each other's book recommendations and then meet up again to talk about it?" you propose, voice a bit too quiet and anxious for your liking. The General is silent for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowing slightly, and you're suddenly very sure that you have misread his softness towards you. That his kindness has just been simple politeness and he has absolutely no interest in spending time with a servant below his own social standing.

"Like a date?" he asks, and before you can get a chance to give into your fear and backtrack, he nods, the smile on his lips widening into a full grin. "I think I would enjoy that, yes. I will try to keep my schedule free for... let's say next week?"

You can't stop yourself from beaming up at him, the happiness you feel rushing through your body like a wave. "That sounds great. I can't wait to start reading. A love story recommended by you can only be fantastic."

"I hope the book brings you as much joy as it has brought me. I'm curious to hear your thoughts on Andrei."

"And I can't wait to hear what you think of Sophie."

#aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #darkling x reader

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