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ash-whimsicalfanfic · 11 months

Text

Obsession

Tom Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: Mild language, Graphic, Smut, Toxic, Possessive, Protective, Angst, Fluff, Suggestive, Anger…

Prompt: Y/N Black is a mystery to many. She isn’t interested in making friends, only her studies. However, unbeknownst to many, one boy has piqued her interest——Tom Riddle. Little did she know, he had an obsession with her.

Sidenote: I did use some spells from the vampire diaries just for the heck of it. I may do a part two, but I’m not sure if it really needs it. I’ll leave it up to you guys!

Everyone seemed more chattier than usual. Maybe it was the upcoming Yule Ball or maybe it was because holidays were approaching. However, you hated the buzzing chatter, the obnoxious shouting, and all of the crowded halls. You had tried to go to the library as an escape from this madness, but everyone had infiltrated the library even.

You were the Scrooge that everybody was painfully aware of as you stormed through the halls with your books clutched to your chest. If you were a Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor, they would have laughed at the irked expression on your face. However, knowing you were a Slytherin strikes fear in many.

Not to mention you were a mystery to many. You were oh so quiet, along with a freakishly amount of smart, and an unearthly amount of beautiful. You chose to stick to yourself, choosing to not make any friends. You instead chose to have acquaintances in case a group project popped up, however you normally managed to worm your way out of that so you could work alone.

That was how you preferred doing things, alone. Other students have given up on trying to befriend you, seeing it as pointless. Guys would still try and ask you out, but their advances failed. They hadn’t noticed that your interest was piqued by a boy already. However, it seemed that he was just like you.

Tom Riddle was a handsome young man with jet black curly-ish hair and dark brown eyes that looked almost black from afar. He was fairly tall and had a lean look. His face was always blank…passive as he studied or walked through the halls or even when he was with his group of “friends”. They were his followers in his mind, not his friends. To anyone else, they saw them as a happy friend group.

You had noticed the things that anyone would pick up about Tom from afar, like his intelligence. Tom excelled in all of his classes, in fact he was tied at the top of the year with you. He too was introverted, preferring to be alone and in silence. For someone as passive as Tom, you noticed things he did. When he was judging something, he’d lean back in his chair, occasionally quirking an eyebrow as if he was impressed or annoyed.

When he was in a rather intuitive or creative mood, his eyes seemed to be a lighter shade of brown and he would get carried away in his journal. When he was thinking, he would zone out on his journal or something in the room.

You noticed that he’d clench his jaw until a muscle there ticked when he got angered. When he was annoyed, he had a tendency to sigh.

“Y/N!” Narcissa calls.

She stood among Tom Riddle and all of his “friends”. Tom’s eyes find you who was clearly irritated. You had made your way through the crowd and head towards her.

“Yes?” You ask.

“Hey, that is no way to talk to your favorite cousin.” Narcissa scolds.

“Who said you were my favorite?” You ask.

“It’s because it is me.” Bellatrix grins.

“Not you either.” You mutter.

“Moving on, have you seen Sirius or Regulus?” She asks.

“I’m not their keeper, Narcissa.” You mutter.

“They said they were meeting up with you.” She says, sighing in frustration.

“Well they didn’t. I need to get to class.” You mutter.

Before you could go, Bellatrix grabs your upper arm in a tight grip. You turn back to her with a clenched jaw as Narcissa steps back, muttering an “Uh-Oh”.

“Leaving so soon, cousin?” She mocks.

“Bellatrix, I’m warning you now to let go or you will regret it.” You warn calmly.

“What will you do? You're all goody two shoes, yet your in Slytherin. I think that dumb hat sorted you into the wrong house.” She says.

You pull your wand free, pointing it at her as you mutter “Stupefy”. You roll your eyes as she flies backwards through the crowd.

“If I wouldn’t get expelled, I would definitely crucio you or use the killing curse on you for your information. However, nothing is stopping me once we graduate.” You say, before turning and leaving the group stunned.

Tom smiles slightly as he watches you walk away, finding himself even more intrigued with you than he originally was. Call it an interest or maybe an obsession at this point. He liked to watch you when he could. He noticed things about you that he was sure no one else noticed.

He knew you were a quiet and mysterious girl, but underneath that “innocent” mask you wore, he knew there was a strong woman with a dangerous mind. You were far from innocent and today proved that more so to him. To anyone else, you were that innocent girl. However, when you let your guard down if you were stressed or angry or irritated, he could see the danger swirling in your (eye color) eyes.

He lets his smile fall, regaining his composure before turning back to his group. Bellatrix was back on her feet, a scowl on her face as Narcissa helped hold her up. He watches as Sirius and Regulus join them.

“What is wrong with you?” Sirius asks.

“Your bloody sister is what is wrong! She used stupefy on me!” She snaps.

“How pissed off did you make her?” Regulus chuckles, shaking his head.

“You both told me you were meeting with her about becoming a follower. Yet, she hasn’t seen either of you all day. So, where were you both off to?” Narcissa snaps.

“Have you seen how mad she can get? We learned not to mess around when she gets mad, Issa. When she is mad, she will take down anyone in her path. We’ve learned how to avoid making her mad. So, you go have that conversation with her because I rather not get crucio’d again.” Sirius says.

“Wow.” Avery mutters.

“She may be quiet and keeps to herself, but Y/N is a ticking time-bomb when you make her mad. She is intelligent, and maybe too intelligent for her own good. She also liked being stronger than others in magic, so that is why she studies so hard. However, because she is so antisocial and introverted, even as a child before Hogwarts, she took her studies serious, so she doesn’t understand fun. She is boring.” Sirius says.

“I bet she hasn’t ever shagged anyone, or snogged! A sixth year and a virgin! That is embarrassing.” Bellatrix cackles.

That further piqued Tom’s interest about you.. He found himself having more thoughts about you, both innocent and sinful thoughts. However, his sinful thoughts changed to the exception of you being a virgin. That made him feel a possessiveness over you he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about. However, he knew that the idea of you being with anyone else was sickening to him. You were his, you just didn’t know it yet.

Your studies past fairly quickly and you were heading towards the Great Hall. You sit at your normal spot, Regulus sitting next to you. Tom sat a table down with his “friends”, however his focus was on you. Regulus gently closed your books, pushing them away.

“Eat, then study.” He stresses softly.

As irritated as you were about him taking away your books, you listened. Tom quirked a brow, finding himself wondering if it was often you got so distracted by your studies that you didn’t take care of yourself the best. His eyes roam over you slowly, noticing the dark circles under your eyes along with the thinning face of yours. So, it was often, he thought.

“Y/N! My favorite sister! How has your day been?” Sirius asks as plops down across from you.

“What do you want?” You ask, sighing as you pushed your food around on your plate.

“Nothing to do with studies I hope, she is taking a break to eat.” Regulus stresses.

You close your eyes as the two start to argue, resting your chin on your hand. You open your eyes when Regulus stands, his voice getting louder.

“Enough!” You snap, the two instantly quieting.

It had gotten the attention of those around your table. You take in a slow breath before letting it out, regaining your composure before looking between your brothers with a blank look.

“You two bicker like a bunch of children. This is our brief moment to be able to hang out, however you both don’t know how to push aside your differences because you both are too hot-headed and irrational.” You rant.

You snatch up your books that Regulus had pushed away from you earlier and stood from the table as you left the Great Hall.

Tom watched you leave before looking between your brothers, before his eyes fell on your plate of untouched food. He puts some food in his bag, going unnoticed and decides to leave himself. He made his way to the library, heading to the forbidden section where he assumed you’d be. He feels a brief moment of pride flare in his chest, right about where you had gone. He clears his throat and you look up from your notes.

“Here. I noticed you didn’t eat.” He says.

His voice surprised you. It was deep, soft and mysterious. He pulled out some food he took from the Great Hall and handed it to you.

“Thank you.” You murmur.

He nods, going to leave and you begin working on your studies again. You sigh as a loud group comes into the library.

“Would you allow me to show you a place I like to go?” He asks, looking back down at you.

“I don’t see why not.” You admit, gathering your stuff before standing.

You follow behind Tom, not quite sure where he was taking you. You knew of his quest to become the Dark Lord. Some of his followers had big mouths, so you heard more than everyone thought you knew. They assumed you were clueless about his current quest and they all were tip-toeing around who would be the one to break the news to you. However, you knew. You knew more than them in fact.

He looks around, making sure there was no other students or professors in the hall before a door appears in the wall. Your lips part from surprise as he ushers you in, following behind you. You looked around the empty room in awe.

“The Room of Requirements…I’ve heard of it and I’ve looked everywhere for it.” You mumble.

“Yes, I searched for this room for awhile myself. I later learned that the room only will appear in great need.” Tom explains, seeming rather smug about finding it.

“The room seems to know you quite well…and you seem to know the room quite well too. Otherwise, the door wouldn’t have appeared because I’m sure my studies are not in great need.” You say, turning back to him.

You feel a heat spread across your body as you catch his eyes on you. The dark eyes slowly trail over you, mapping out your body. His eyes stop on your blouse where you had a few buttons undone since you were alone and had started to get a little hot in the confined aisles of the forbidden section in the library.

He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you. You look up, not realizing that he was this tall. He puts a hand out and gently grasps your hip before trailing it up your side. He tugs on the middle of your blouse, revealing more of your cleavage, before he starts undoing the remaining buttons.

“That and maybe because I am in great need of you.” He murmurs, leaning down to trail his lips along your neck.

You shiver, feeling a trail of goosebumps being left behind from the ghost touch. His hands find your shoulders where he pushes the robes off before pushing your blouse off along with it. He leaves a soft kiss on your racing pulse, before he pulls back to look down at you.

You were left in a dark green lace bra, and he tsked quietly, approving the way they made your breasts look. The bra seemed to work as a push-up bra, but really Narcissa had gotten you the wrong size this year.

His eyes trail over your stomach, noting the soft curves he would be sure to feel later. His eyes focus on the short school-girl skirt, also Narcissa’s doing. You didn’t fret much about it as you knew you’d wear your robe more often than not. You were wearing knee high stockings with a pair of mary-janes.

“The school girl skirt, hmph, your just asking to be fucked, aren’t you?” He asks, a smirk slowly spreading across his face.

“Tom.” You say breathlessly.

“Leave the skirt on, but take your panties off.” He orders.

He begins unbuttoning his own shirt, watching you. You were frozen in place before you start to work the panties down. He held a hand out, looking at you expectantly. Your shaky hand places the matching dark green lace panties into his hand.

He balls it up and sticks it in his blazer pocket. You watch as his long, slender fingers work his belt off. Your eyes focused on his veiny hands.

“Hands and knees.” He says.

You slowly drop to your knees, turning over, no longer able to watch his next move. You get on your hands, moving so you are on your elbows. You arch your back down, sticking your ass out more.

Tom licks his lips slowly, swallowing hard as he watches you get into the position. He inhales deeply, watching as you arch your back. He puts a clenched fist to his mouth, lightly biting himself, not quite sure if this was really happening. The skirt hid nothing. He could see the big globes that he found himself really attracted to. He never would have taken himself as an ass man.

His eyes trail further down to see your glistening entrance. He pushes his pants off before he gets on the ground behind you. He brushes your hair over your shoulder, before he finds himself tracing down your spine lightly. You shiver unintentionally, however he enjoyed the effect he on you.

“How bad do you want me?” He murmurs into your ear.

“Please, Tom.” You whisper as you push your hips back.

“Pathetic. Do you want my cock or not?” He asks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and roughly jerking your head back.

A breathless moan fills the thick air in the room as a heat spreads across your scalp. He clenches his jaw, feeling himself twitch from the sound he heard. It was the beginning of a beautiful symphony, one he didn’t realize how much he’d become crazed for.

“Tom! Please! I need you!” You cry, feeling frustrated that he wasn’t touching you where you wanted to be touched.

He smirks, gently grabbing your hips. He uses his other hand to guide himself into your dripping entrance. He groans, your walls immediately grasping onto him, suffocating him. You moan lowly, your hands grasping at the stone floor as your eyes flutter shut.

“Fuck.” He curses, working himself in and out of you slowly.

“Tom, please.” You plead, pushing your hips back.

“Is my cock the first one you’ve ever had?” He asks, his eyes burning in the back of your head as he awaited your response.

“Yes! Please, Tom!” You cry.

He couldn’t help the grin across his face. He heard it, but he wasn’t sure if maybe you just kept them out of the loop. But, knowing he was the one to take your virginity was exhilirating to him.

“I better be the only cock you have here. You are mine.” He warns.

“Yes! I-I’m yours, Tom!” You moan as he starts to move at a faster pace.

“I’ll kill any boy who dares to be with you, because you are mine! I’ll punish you if I see you talking to some boy.” He growls, his hips now savagely moving.

You cry for more, your soft and loud moans were music to his ears. He breathed heavily along with you as held onto your hips tightly. Skin smacking echoed in the room and you heard his soft groan which sent you coming. He groans louder as you clench around him, coming around him.

You stood on shaky legs, buttoning up your blouse and grimacing as you feel your shared climaxes slowly leaking out of you. He grasps your chin, looking at you with a stern look.

“Keep it in. I want you to know who fucked you.” He says.

“Tom, I need my panties.” You say as your cheeks flush.

“Find another way to keep it in.” He says, before focusing back on straightening himself out.

You pull your blazer on along with your robes before grabbing your books and hurrying out. You reach the Slytherin common room, Narcissa and Bellatrix looking up from their game of cards. Sirius and Regulus’s backs were to you.

“Oh my god, you got shagged!” Narcissa exclaims with a grin.

“Who was it?” Bellatrix asks.

“Yeah, I’d like to know.” Sirius seethes, taking in your disheveled hair and the hickeys on your neck.

Narcissa looks at your knees to see that they were scraped up, but you choose to ignore your brothers and cousins as you make your way past them. Regulus laughs, yelling “Atta girl!”

A small smile graces your lips at your little brothers comment. He too was protective of you, but he knew you inside and out. He and you were far closer than you were with Sirius. You get to your dorm and think of showering, but then your mind wanders to Tom. Keep it in…

You pull on a pair of fresh panties as you change into your nightware. You found yourself tossing and turning for a long while before you fell asleep. By the time it was time to wake up, you were exhausted. You could sleep in, but that ruins your morning routine.

You go to the shower, grimacing at the burn in your stomach. It was now that you realized you didn’t eat once yesterday. You finished up in the bathroom before pulling on a black lingerie set. You gasp as your door opens and Tom walks in.

“I knew you’d be awake.” He says, his eyes slowly roaming over you and some of the bruises he had made from where he held you still.

“Tom, what are you doing here?” You ask, grabbing a random robe and pulling it on.

“I’ve seen it all, darling. I wanted to tell you no more skirts.” He says and you look at him confused.

“I…Is it because how short they are?” You ask.

“That and the school girl skirt should be meant for my eyes when we are alone. Do you understand?” He asks.

“I…yes, Tom.” You say quietly.

He grins, looking at your neck where you had several hickeys before he leaves. You frown and look at the outfit you had prepared for this morning. It consisted of a school girl skirt.You sigh, grabbing a dark green skater skirt that ended a little about mid-thigh. There wasn’t much you could do about the length of your skirts until you went shopping again.

You grab your button up blouse and your Slytherin tie. You grab the blazer and sigh when you see dust on it. You hang it back up, deciding you will have to clean it later because you don’t have time now.

You pull on your knee socks and mary-janes when there was a knock at your dorm door. You open it and see it was Narcissa.

“I came bearing gifts.” She says.

You open the door and she guides you to the small vanity as she begins to help you cover the hickeys on your neck and jawline.

“So, who was it?” She asks.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to say who it was yet.” You murmur.

“Did he force you? I’ll make him suffer the worst ways imaginable.” She says seriously.

“No, no, he didn’t force me. I’m just not sure what is happening yet. I don’t know if it merely was just another shag to him or if it’ll turn into something. However, he’s being a little controlling of what I wear, mainly my skirts.” You explain.

“I feel like I already know who this is.” She says, sighing.

“Who?” You ask.

“Tom Riddle?” She asks.

“Oh…how did you know?” You ask.

“Tom is…many things. I don’t know if he is capable of love and a relationship. He is a very possessive man. And I mean to the extent that it isn't healthy. He is ill-tempered and easily jealous. Not to mention he can be obsessive too. I personally think you should put some distance between the two of you and let things die down. I don’t know what his intentions are, but I’m sure they aren’t good.” She explains.

“Alright.” You say quietly.

You were quite sure how to feel. But, you knew Narcissa meant well and you also knew that she knew Tom better than you. You trusted her advice almost as you trusted Regulus’s.

“All done.” She says.

“Thank you, Issa.” You murmur and she nods.

She leaves you to your thoughts and you realize you need to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast. You gather your books and make your way out of your dorm in a daze. You head to the Great Hall and see everyone was already there. You ignore the burning stare that you knew belonged to Tom Riddle.

“Hey, you okay? You seem out of it? And your running late.” Regulus says.

“Oh, I’m fine. I think I’m just in need of food. I realized I didn’t eat once yesterday.” You explain.

“Y/N/N, you’ve got to take better care of yourself. I will start treating you like I did the first year.” He warns.

“I know, I know, and I promise I’ll do better.” You sigh.

“Why is Riddle staring at you? He seems pissed.” He whispers.

“Oh, who knows.” You sigh, briefly glancing at Tom.

Tom was staring at your neck where your hickeys would be, but thanks to Narcissa, they were no longer there. You managed to eat some of your food before it began to make you feel sick. You felt suffocated with Tom glaring daggers into you and Sirius was no better.

“Stop it.” Regulus warns Sirius.

“I want to know who it was.” He snaps, looking back at you.

You clench your jaw, narrowing your eyes at him as you take a slow breath in and let it out. You pull your wand out and keep your hand rested on the table, so you don’t draw anymore attention to you.

“Keep glaring, brother and watch how fast you end up in the hospital wing.” You warn lowly.

“Guys.” Narcissa warns.

“Who is he?” He growls lowly, leaning closer to you.

“Oh shit. Take cover!” Regulus says, going under the table.

You reach forward, grabbing Sirius’s tie and pull him closer as your face heats from anger.

“Astronomy tower, now.” You grit out.

He stands and storms out and you stand as Regulus pokes his head out.

“Don’t kill him please.” He pleads.

You storm out of the Great Hall, wand in hand as you make your way towards the Astronomy tower to see him already there and waiting.

“Who is it!?” He snaps as you both circle each other.

“Sirius, it’s none of your business. Stop trying to act like the older and protective brother. Stop acting like you care!” You snap.

“I do care! You're my sister.” He snaps.

“Guys. Let’s try to keep calm.” Narcissa says as she walks in with her group.

“Yeah, let’s just hug it out and make up.” Regulus says.

“I want to know who has my sister acting like a tramp.” He snaps.

“Oh no….oh no! Oh no! Back up, back up, back up!” Regulus says as he pushes everyone back.

“Bombarda!” You fast and Sirius curses as he tries to dodge the mini explosion you casted his way.

“Confundo!” He shouts, but you dodge it.

“Everte Statum.” You cast, watching as he flies back against the wall, his wand falling in the process.

You walk forward, grabbing his wand before looking down at him.

“Impulsa Animositas!” You snap, gaining confused looks from around the room.

“I…Y/N, have you been creating spells again?” Regulus asks cautiously.

“Again?” Narcissa asks alarmed.

“What did you do to me?” Sirius snaps.

“Say something mean. To any of us.” You say, smirking.

“What the hell did you do to me you crazy bi—ow!” He exclaims after feeling a jolt of electricity go through you.

“Just as I assumed. This spell will zap you everytime you try and say something mean.” You say.

“That’s child’s play you idiot!” He snaps before groaning.

“Hm. This isn’t. Lihednat Dolchitni.” You cast.

His hands find his throat as he try’s to breath. You clench your fist tighter, watching how he struggles more before you wave your hand and it stops. He leans forward, breathing heavily.

“Tread carefully, brother. I have far more up my sleeve than you wish to believe.” You spat.

“You…you will get in so much trouble for creating spells. Regulus and I told you that you need to stop.” He breathes heavily.

“Then keep your mouths shut otherwise I’ll make you suffer in the worst unimaginable ways.” You say.

With that, you turn and walk past the group who seemed shocked. You head back to the Great Hall, gathering your items before heading back to your dorm. You were too upset and riled up to do anything. So, instead you hurry to your dorm and lock the door.

You pace frantically, running your hands through your hair. You let a breath out that you hadn’t noticed you were holding.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. Everything is okay.” You mumble to yourself.

The lock on your door clicks, so you turn and see Tom. He closes the door back and turns to you with that normal passive and cold look.

“That was…impressive.” He says.

“Tom, I really rather be alone right now.” You mutter.

“Why cover the marks I left? I left them for a reason.” He says, his voice hardening as his eyes turn several shades darker.

“I didn’t want to walk around with them showing. People would have said something and I don’t want to deal with that. Plus, I rather the school not know I was your play thing.” You mutter harshly, turning your back to him.

“Who said you were a play thing because I don’t recall ever telling you that?” He snaps.

“Tell me this, Tom. Are you one for commitment? Would you be in an exclusive relationship? Huh, tell me that!” You snap harshly as you turn to face him again.

“I can do commitment. Before, I’d say no. However, for you I am willing to do it. I’m willing to be in an exclusive relationship as you call it. Because I can’t ever get you out of my head! You are all I can focus on! It’s so…so irritating, yet I love it at the same time.” He growls.

“Tom, there are going to have to be some rules set in place if we are to do something. Like the skirt thing this morning. I only wear skirts.” You say.

“Fine. Wear your skirts, well not the school girl ones, however I can’t promise that some asshole won’t end up dead for looking. You are mine.” He snaps.

“Okay, and what about the marks?” You ask.

“You shouldn’t care what anyone says. You never have before, so why care now? I want people to know that you belong to me. I want the guys to realize that you aren’t a possibility anymore. You are mine.” He says, closing the distance between you both.

You look up as his hand wraps around your throat. He tightens his hand and you let a shaky breath out as you clench your thighs.

“You barely know me.” You mumble.

“I know more than you think, darling. You piqued my interest. When that happens, I tend to learn everything I can.” He murmurs, brushing his nose against yours before kissing you softly.

You hum, moving your hands to his hair. You whine when he pulls back, a smirk on his lips.

“What does that mean? How have you learned about me if you just started speaking to me yesterday?” You ask.

“Because I might be a bit obsessive when it comes to learning of the things that interest me. I won’t stop until I know everything.” He says.

There was banging on your dorm door and you sigh, going to walk past Tom, but he loops an arm around your waist.

“Who is it?” Tom asks, annoyed.

“It’s Bella, me and Regulus. Is Y/N in there?” Narcissa says.

“Well go away. I’m about to fuck my girl.” He snaps.

Your face heats up as you cover your mouth to hide your gasp. Narcissa gasps, Regulus laughs and yells for you to get it while Bellatrix throws a fit.

“We are not doing anything! We are just talking!” You exclaim.

“Talking, huh?” He says, quirking a brow at you as he slips a hand beneath your skirt.

You let a shaky breath out as he trails his hand up your thigh. He gets to your underwear, sliding two fingers beneath the lacy fabric.

“Tom.” You mumble.

“Talking and yet you're so wet for me. Do you want my cock again?” He asks, sliding a finger in you.

Your eyes flutter close and he grins widely, loving the way you reacted to his touch. You were the violin and he was the violinist. He played you so gracefully and loved the beautiful symphony that came from your mouth. It was his greatest obsession.

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elitadream · 7 months

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As soon as I began receiving asks about Junior regarding my body swap concept a few days ago, I knew I wanted to add him in a short sequence. 💙

I've considered many different scenes in which he would be included, but there was one in particular that kept coming back to my mind, and it was the exact moment he would agree to safely lead Luigi to "Bowser" (aka Mario). In this specific scenario, he would be mostly oblivious to what's going on, and would thus show palpable mistrust towards Luigi at first, who he doesn't really know and hasn't yet opened up to. But upon seeing how distraught the poor man is, Junior would feel for him and let his guard down. 🤲

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peachmangopie323 · 18 days

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tw//eyestrain, mild body horror

"What am I to you?"

#amy rose #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #hanahaki #angst #eyestrain #mild body horror

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kawareo · 3 months

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Bhaalist Unholy Communion

This post has been living in my brain rent free and then it hit me in just the right headspace to turn into a vent thing and made me write poetry for the first time since eight grade anyway enjoy my ramblings under cut

because isn't it fucked up that Durge has no bodily autonomy? That he's nothing (using he/him because im looking at my Durge specifically) without Bhaal because not even his own body is his own but still a part of Bhaal?

And sure it is an honor to be Bhaal's Chosen, but is it really if you never got the chance to choose yourself? Strike, my Durge, was born a Bhaalspawn and grew up in the cult since he was eight. It's all he's ever known, he's worshiped for being a demi-god, he's powerful and on top, and in the end, literally everything he has is only because his Father lets him have it.

The Communion especially shows that, with Strike being still worshiped, but it hurts him, the Bhaalists rip his body apart, use it, consume it, and he needs to think of it as a blessing because how lucky is he, to be the soul that was loaned piece of a god to guard? He'd think of his own body like that.

And it hurts Bhaalists, too! It works both ways! His blood is poisonous and his flesh aches in their throats, but it's a blessing! God of Murder loves his son and his love hurts, and if you love him back, you must let yourself be hurt and know how lucky you are to be allowed to be hurt by Bhaal or his mortal flesh itself!

I'm just very into the whole 'no bodily autonomy' thing that we have going on with Durge, like his father not only can take control of his body via the Urge, but he has Sceleritas to guide him away from anything that could be not by Bhaal's books, Orin and Saverok to be a (although messed up as hell) family to him so he'll never look for another, and to some degree, Bhaal can control Durge's mind...

No wonder he'd run to Gortash in the end. The first one who sees more than a Bhaalspawn when he looks at Strike, more than Bhaal's scion, he sees a person and ngl it's totally Bhaal's fault that Strike ended up like that

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tarjapearce · 9 months

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Lips anon! OOOHHH imagine another man getting touchy with the wife during soccer practice, and Miguel beats the living shit out of him lmao

👀👀

Miguel wasn't a violent man, but lately the subject before him was tearing his calm strings almost on purpose. You remained curt and polite towards him, avoiding as much small talk as possible with him, even made sure to show him that no man could actually compete against Miguel.

"Just ignore him" You had said to an apparently calm and serene Miguel that kept giving cold and warning glances at him.

The kids were away, doing a small routine and pre-work out before actually starting the game. Some of the parents took a turn into bringing the kids foods and snacks for later. It was your turn. You were unpacking the beverages in the cooler as Miguel was setting up the table with some lunchables and other baked goods you had prepared. Benjamin was spending a day with Peter and Mayday.

"I'll get the ice." The Parking lot was a few meters away from the field, away from the parents. You took the car's keys and walked over the trunk to get a few packages of ice.

"You need help?" The too familiar and raspy voice made you flinch in uncomfortableness.

"No, Thanks." Your voice was firm, the man, your allegedly fan, was a relative of Victor's dad. A cousin of the sorts. Despite having the previous clash, you somehow had worked it out just for the sake of Gabriela and the team. Still, you all kept your distance from each other to avoid any unnecessary interaction. Until, Alonzo, your fan approached.

"Ah, c'mon preciosa, those bags look heavy."

"Not your business anyways. Kindly, go away, you're making me uncomfortable."

Alonzo held his hands in defense, but your anger made one of the bags to slip and fall from your hands. Alonzo took the bag and touched your shoulder firmly

"Don't you fucking touch me! " You seethed loud enough as you flinched.

"Ay, corazón. You should be grateful that I'm helping you here. Look at the mess you're-"

A loud smack connected to his jaw, doubling him in pain as he stumbled on his feet. Alonzo struggled to keep on his feet as he fell on the floor.

"Como vuelvas a tocar a mi esposa, te rompo más que la puta cara, cabrón!" (If you ever touch my wife again, I'll not only fuck up your fucking face, dipshit.)

He growled as your eyes widened in shock. Some parents had witnessed the whole thing, some approached, Victor's dad included.

The kids were still in their practice, oblivious to the small fight that had broke out.

Alonzo was taken out of the field as Victor's dsd apologized, shame in his face. Alonzo still had the guts to actually threaten Miguel between broken mumbles.

The once familiar ambience dissipated, leaving a tense and awkward energy to linger. It had also been a shock to you, it was the first time in actually seeing Miguel so angry that he went physical on someone.

You remained quiet as you patched his swollen knuckles.

"You ok?" Despite him being the injured one, he asked for your well-being.

"Yeah. just... Let's forget it." your tone meek, as you gently applied ice on his hand.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #dad miguel o'hara #gabi o'hara #Soccer Family ⚽🕷️#mild angst #wife reader #💋 anon #t writes✨

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berryblu-arts · 2 years

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Little lads, creatures even...

#caught up w dsmp yesterday finally ^^#my art #dsmp #quackity #dsmp spoilers #not really but eh #mcyt #fanart #berryblu arts #slime clones #...do they have a name actually?#anyways #i think its so funny that the only 2 doodles i did for that stream were this #and mild ranboo angst #kekw #dream smp

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bigassmoonchild · 8 months

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The Aftermath

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2k

The first part does give context, but isn’t required for this read.

Summary: You knew the difficulty the process of being a mated Omega in the military. You understood how much you would lose, but you never thought about the difficulty in your normal life. Never thought about the panic you would have, or how much it would effect you and Ghost's personal relationship.

Content Tags: Hospitals, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, No use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: I was not expecting such a good response to Maple Syrup, and since y'all seemed to like it so much here's basically the next part. Let me know if you want anything specific, my asks should be open. <3 I'm adding a 'keep reading' link to make sure you can scroll on if you want.

Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Everything felt wrong. Ghost wasn't injured, but he was being held overnight in the medbay. The Maple Syrup had run its course through him, but he could hear chatter echoing in the room. He could smell you, you weren't too far from him but he wasn't allowed to see you. Price had come in not too long after the doctors had checked him over and cleared him, arms crossed as he sat in the chair next to the bed Ghost was in.

"We'll need to talk, you know," was the only thing Price had said, leaning back and relaxing in the chair.

"Is the Doc okay?" Ghost asked, looking in the direction your scent was coming from. The sickly sweet smell of heat was becoming stale, but you were on lock and key just in case any Alpha soldiers tried to come in. Price looked in the same direction, giving a faint shrug.

"I'm going to be updated once she's steady enough for the doctors to leave her alone," Price said. "Gaz is on watch outside her room," Ghost nodded. Gaz was a Beta, so it would be fine for him to be that close. Ghost still didn't like it, he didn't know how his pack was, where everyone was, if everyone was safe.

It took a few hours, it was well past midnight before any movement came from the direction of your room. The curtains surrounding Ghosts bed was moved, the Doctor gesturing for Price to follow him. Ghost had tried to listen in, but it wasn't worth it. He was still in mild pain from the mission, the place where the tranq had stabbed him still throbbed every so often.

Price walked back in some time later, looking at Ghost with a sigh. That didn't make him feel good, panic started to flow through him, thoughts of you dying flashed in his mind for a few moments.

"She's gonna be fine," Price started. "They got her heat back under control, they're just waiting for it to finish cycling through her. Outside of that, she's fine," Price sat next to Ghost. "I can't ask you about what happened. I can only tell you what will happen," he looked away.

You woke up, head foggy and throbbing with a headache. You could see a form moving next to you, checking your vitals. You gave a soft groan, your neck throbbing alongside your core. Everything hurt, but you weren't able to tell if it was everything.

"You finally waking up?" The voice asked, and you could recognize it. "You've been out for a few days, you've even had Ghost trying to get in," she giggled a little. Amanda. That was her name, she was one of the nurses you'd been working with prior to the mission that went south.

At the mention of Ghost, you sat upright, vision spinning before righting itself.

"It was a really bad heat you were sent into, y'know. Took us a few hours to stabilize you, but you're doing good for yourself," she smiled, trying to lay you back down but you pushed her off of you.

"I need to talk to him," god even your throat hurt. She nodded slowly, sticking her head out of the door. You rubbed your head, headache now making you feel sick. It took a few moments, but you heard footsteps come in the room, a figure standing next to you. When you looked up, it was Price.

"There are some procedures we need to go through. I've already got some officers in, but we still need to talk about what happened," Price started, moving to sit in the chair near you. "Ghost has already spoken with them, so it'll be you, me and the officers. I think Laswell has flown in as well," you stared at Price.

With a few blinks, you looked down to think. Ghost had already spoken with the officers? You knew what the rules were like, and you knew that your career was now in his hands. It pissed you off, if you could really focus on feeling much outside of pain.

"The officers are trying to get him to make a decision on your career. I can't let you two talk about anything yet, the Adjutant Officers still need to figure things out before you'll be allowed near each other," Price looked away, your jaw tensing. You really had no rights anymore, did you?

It took another few days before you were released. The second you had clothes of your own to wear, you were gone off into your room.

Someone had been here. You could smell a stale scent, but you weren't able to place it. It was too distant to be able to decipher, but your room was exactly the same as it had been left before you were hospitalized. You didn't feel comfortable in your room, knowing someone had been here.

A knock on the door made you spin, nerves set tight. As you opened the door, a large figure came into view.

"Doc," Ghost started, before being yanked into your room and having the door slammed behind him. You turned on him, staring at him sharply. You pointed, opening your mouth before shutting it and groaning, running hands through your hair.

You kept trying to start talking before you stopped yourself, eventually kicking at the wall in irritation.

"What did you say to them?" You hissed, back still turned and facing the wall. You could hear him shift behind you, boots scuffing against the ground. You turned, storming up to him, chest to chest. "What the hell did you tell them? You gonna dismantle my career? Make me some fucking house-omega?" You were growling now, you could feel your muscles tensing.

When he didn't respond, you groaned, tossing your hands up in defeat and walking away from him. You turned, hand on your hip, waiting for a response.

"I don't want to take your career away," he whispered, finally. You barked a laugh, rubbing your wrist against your bitten gland. His hand reached out to grab you, but you moved away from him. "I don't want to make decisions for you," he added, voice growing more desperate.

You shook your head, pulling your hand away from your gland and shaking them out. Ghost reached out to you again, hand catching your shoulder before you shrugged him off.

"I don't know what to do," you whispered. "I'm terrified, because now I'm outed to so many people, and there's quite literally nothing I can do to save myself," you turned to look at Ghost.

He scoffed. "You think I'm going to ruin things for you? I've already told you, I don't want that kind of control over you," he looked away, crossing his arms. You could smell the distress on him.

"You have done shit to make me trust you!" Your voice raised before dropping, a hand running down your face. "I have zero control left, you know how many rights I have as a mated Omega?" He shook his head. "None," you glared at him.

Ghost glanced at you before looking away again. He shook his head, moving to leave before you blocked the door from him.

"You don't get to walk out when we're talking," you growled at him and he growled back.

"This isn't a conversation, this is you getting all pissy on me," he loomed over you, forcing you to take a step back. "I didn't want this to happen, I would have chosen any other way to save us, but we didn't get a choice, did we?" You looked away.

"Get out,"

He could smell the distress on you the second he spoke. Your scent left him spiraling, he was panicking. His Omega was distressed, and he was the cause. He wanted to fix it, correct the problem and make you happy again.

Ghost could do nothing when you repeated yourself.

"Get the hell out," you glared at him. Ghost opened his mouth to give you a retort, but you had turned away. He bit his tongue, turning to stare at the door.

"You know that's not what I meant," he whispered, opening the door and leaving.

Even after walking aimlessly for ten minutes, he could still smell your distress on your scent, the sour taste stuck on the back of his throat. This wasn't how he had intended to talk to you, he wanted to make a plan for when they asked him more questions regarding your career.

Ghost was pissed off, more so with himself than you, but he wanted to comfort you. Fix what he had said, take it back.

But he had a meeting to attend, and he needed to make sure he didn't say anything wrong.

You sat in the conference room, Price, Laswell and an Adjutant officer sitting across from you. This was the third time you'd gone over what had happened.

"So you say this 'Maple Syrup' is what caused Ghost to go into a feral rut?"

"Yes," you deadpanned, glaring through the Adjutant. "We've already been through all of this, there is literally nothing else that I haven't told you," the Adjutant hummed.

"We need to make sure everything is covered," he told you, looking at the paper he had been writing on for the past hour and a half.

You looked at Price, hoping he would help you in any way. He looked away, leaning further back into his seat.

"What about my career?" The room went silent, the Adjutant stopped reading, glancing over at Price who had finally looked at you. "I want to know what's happening," you whispered. The last few days had left you unsure of yourself. You wanted to confront Ghost, you wanted to apologize for snapping at him, you wanted to fix what you'd said.

None of them spoke, Laswell had opened her mouth to speak before closing it, taking a deep breath. Her fingers tapped on the table, looking at Price and the Adjutant.

She looked back at you. "You aren't allowed to make any decisions regarding that, you know," your head dropped back with a groan, wrist rubbing against your bitten gland roughly. You were terrified, you didn't know what the future was going to hold.

You had so little control and it was getting worse. You stood abruptly, going to walk out the door before Price spoke.

"Would you like to speak with Ghost?" You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. With people around, you wouldn't snap on him, but you also didn't want to see him since his last remarks. You really needed to know if you still worked here, or if he was going to force you to become a house-omega.

You nodded, turning around and sitting back down while staring Price down as he made a phone-call. A few moments later, Ghost walked in and sat beside you, but you still couldn't look at him. It was silent for a few minutes, everyone looking at each other, waiting for the first to speak.

"You still have a job here," Ghost spoke up. "I didn't let them remove you, but they won't allow you on missions anymore," he added the last part quietly. You nodded.

You could hear Price and Laswell ushering the Adjutant Officer out of the room, the door closing with a click behind them. Neither you nor Ghost talked for a few minutes, you could smell a certain level of stress on him.

"Thank you," you whispered, glancing quickly at him. He was staring at you, eyes watching your every twitch and shudder. "I'm... sorry, for the other day," you fiddled with your fingers. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Ghost shook his head, hesitating before grabbing your hand, pulling it close to him and in turn tugging you towards him. You finally turned to look at him, and his eyes visibly softened.

He looked down, then back up to you. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did. Not in the way I did," he tugged you even closer to him, nuzzling into your gland. "I don't regret having you as my mate now, but if I could've changed what I did, you wouldn't be stuck with me making decisions for you now," you leaned in to him, pressing your face into his chest.

It relaxed you, his scent, and allowed you to think much clearer.

"I'm just so scared,"

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Trigger Warning: blades, mild torture, injuries, and what amounts to suicidal thoughts and actions (he lives at the end but he does need a hell of a lot of therapy)

Tim shudders, as best he can while bleeding and bruised and broken.

The Red Hood is above him, mechanical voice melding into the raspy deeper tones of an Older Jason Todd. His voice is hollow and cruel as he digs his blade into Tim’s flesh. It hurts. But, Tim thinks dazedly, having Robin, Tim’s Robin, hating Tim hurts worse.

“Wow, Replacement, no last words for the person you stole everything away from?”

Jason’s mocking him.

“Okay.”

“What’s that, Replacement?”

Tim is so incredibly tired. And the blade held to his neck is starting to look like comfort. Tim thinks-

“My last words. You- You want to hear it?”

His hero’s face tilts, green eyes sparking something deep within Tim’s memory. But he’s so tired.

“Sure, let’s see what kind of recruitment pitch you’ve got for me, Replacement.”

Cruel. So cruel. Mocking him with false warmth. But false warmth is better than the coldness of Drake manor, the coldness of Bruce’s grieving form or Dick’s smile, sometimes when he thinks Tim’s not looking.

Ah, Tim knew it. His Robin will always be better than any other heroes, even if the false warmth makes his heart hurt worse than the broken ribs he’s now sporting. That Hood is pressing a knee down on to keep him immobile. Not that Tim could move anywhere considering both of his legs are broken. Tim wonders what it is about him that makes it impossible for people to muster up warmth towards.

“Do you know why… why heroes are so… so loved?” He wheezes out. He doesn’t wait for a response from Hood. “It’s because… they choose good- they choose to better the world- to save people, even if… even if they weren’t saved themselves. No matter how much- the obstacles, there’s always, an obstacle. But they try anyways.” Tim has to wrap this up. He’s losing coherency. “It’s why… it’s why this is okay. You… you’re choosing to save… to save Gotham from the Joker. Ev’n if you weren’t saved yourself. You’re not… good. You kill.”

Red Hood- Jason, snarls. Tim, blinking slowly, admires the man’s green eyes. “That’s fucking right-”

“But, you can be. Y’re helping.” And because this is important, because Tim has an alter set up to mourn Jason, “You were my hero,” Tim says, and Jason stops short, expression blanking. “So. I’ll help- help remove an obstacle so… so you can keep helping. Helping people like… like me. Or, not like me. Something.”

With that, Tim summons the rest of his strength and presses his neck towards the blade, starting the process to slit his own throat.

Jason flings the knife away, expression crumbling in horror as he stares down at the child he just tortured.

And as Tim’s voice fades, as blood spills out of his neck, as Tim gives him time to retrieve the knife, Jason breaks.

Oh, Tim thinks. His eyes weren’t green. They’re supposed to be blue.

——

Jason sits beside the medical cot, the steady beeping of the heart monitor grounding him as he held two fingers on the kid’s- oh god, he’s a fucking kid, Todd, you monster- pulse.

Jason will grovel when Tim wakes up. Because he turned into the kid’s Joker and Willis and if there’s anything Jason won’t ever allow himself to turn into, it’d be those two. He crossed a line. If Tim wants him to rip his liver out and present it to him, Jason thinks he’d do it on the spot.

Fuck. He fucked up.

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starry-bi-sky · 26 days

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my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

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

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it.

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats.

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.”

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died.

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream.

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.

He has no mouth, but he must scream.

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood.

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off.

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts.

Scrappy is just not enough.

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all.

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash.

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings.

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice.

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail.

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it.

Being dead is agony.

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow.

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever.

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be.

Being dead hurts.

#tw mild gore #cw mild blood #cw mentioned violence #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #cfau #cfau danny #obsessed with the fact that danny just has the WORST fucking time after jason dies and baby i can make it worse #*kills you and makes you a banshee and puts you in an irrevocable state of grief*#delicious angst. danny is having the wORSt time ever lol. lmao even #was originally meant to explore the idea that danny can survive lethal injuries as phantom. which briefly got mentioned.#but i got away from myself. leaning reaaal heavy into the fact that danny's a banshee. At 19 he's got a pretty good handle of himself #but imagine being a fresh out the gate banshee. usually they get time to themselves in the zone to cry until their heart's content.#sorry danny. you have school tomorrow and family sleeping in the bedroom next door #kinda proud of myself. you can kinda see how Rath would've occurred here.#danny is going through it rn #was gonna add a snippet about the city's thoughts on phantom but couldnt fit it in

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munsonbrackets · 7 months

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Astarion x undying male reader (2)

I rewrote it! I like this one more than the other one, hopefully you all enjoy ver. 2 as well!

TW: angst, graphic(ish) depitctions, SPOILERS FOR ASTARION'S STORY

You and Astarion walk down the steps. The steps that are gonna decide the fate of him forevermore.

Who lives, who dies.

At the end of the stairs, Cazador starts his speech. The rehearsed words fall into crumbling deafening sentences, leaving you silent as Astarion speaks up for himself.

“You son of a bitch.” Astarion sneers and leaps towards starting the fight against his former master himself. You do not manage to grab him.

Before anyone can even register what’s happened, Astarion is sent to his spot. His spot, his place in the ritual, it glows and shimmers as if to mock and disturb you. Which it does.

Cazador stares at you, the contained rage flittering across his expression. Next thing you feel is his closeness to yourself, the heat running from your throat. His claws had dug and slashed and you feel the burning, red hot, blood draws down and in, suffocating and heating and dizzying. You fall to the floor, the liquid leaving you, leaves you feeling restless, but so fucking tired.

The rest of your party startle in for the fight ahead as you lay useless, suffocating on your own blood. The next thing you see is your own blood forming around you, your eyes blacking out. It never stops hurting.

And as you wake, your companions are struggling, fighting against the plentyfull of foes that you so cruelly left them fighting alone.

Your hand pushes your head off the floor first, no one has yet to notice the sudden life stuttering its way through your body. But the desperation never leaves your head. How long?! You scream, but no words leave you. Your mouth dry and parched, the words catching on the cut that is struck across your throat.

As you look up you realize that Cazador is at his last step. The last part, a mere handful of seconds left. You push yourself off the ground, your legs carry you faster than your newly living lungs can keep up with, but you catch him.

You catch Cazador as you leap towards the edge, a bone crushing grip settled around his ribs. You drag him to whatever pit of hell awaits under his sick idea of a ritualistic battleground that he had built to ascend.

To become great.

To take away Astarion.

The descent towards the floor of the pit goes by in seconds, but Cazador is scratching and pushing, biting and attempting to flee. You will not let him. Your keen ears hear his body connect with the ground a mere millisecond before yours does. A mere fraction of a moment, that you use to hope. Hope that this stopped the ritual, that Astarion is safe.

And once more everything is black.

You cannot help but wonder if they tried to pay Withers. To bring you back. What he said, what they discussed, would they try to get your body? Put themselves on the line for your unanimated corpse?

You were perhaps nothing more than a splotch on the ground, but you still thought. You were thinking. You are thinking.

Your eyes open with the same voracity as the breath you take in. No longer a splotch, no longer a pile of mess. You were in your own body again. In your own body, with heat. Heat pouring from your beating heart, pumping the blood and startling your limbs to reset. Your tears start and you sob. You wretch every gasp of air through your body as you lay at the bottom of a seemingly endless pit.

And as your brittle bones register the muscles surrounding them, they realize they are not so brittle after all. They are living. Moving, constricting, cramping, releasing. They tense as you push yourself to sit up.

Seemingly endless vastness peers down at you from the great beyond that you see when you look up. Climb, no think, just climb, no look around. Your head and heart scream, striking your ears with a piercing pitch.

You look around first, no one just makes a ditch. It has to have a purpose. Your aching legs agree to push you up, the all too familiar burn spreading through your body. The burn that you have labeled ‘The experience of one more life’, the feeling of living. Again.

You trudge insecurely across the unstable floor that you cannot see in the complete darkness. Your eyes only adjust enough to see your own nose, you’ve learnt that your eyes wake up last, probably due to the separate immune system awakening to the…situation?

You put your hands up, stumbling into a wall, following it, finding an arch. A doorway, probably. And stairs. Stairs. Inside the doorway. You crawl up, making sure that one hand follows the edge, your other leads you. Slowly.

As you get nearer to the top, your body no longer burns from life, but from exhaustion. Step by step, you near the dim light of the ritualistic battlefield that you fell from. Dead silence.

Your heart once more burns as you realize that you left your companions to fight, you forced a hand that Cazador couldn’t have dealt. You never even felt what should have been Cazador’s splotch on the ground that you awoke on, nothing sticky, icky or gooey. The light finally shows you your hands, which are covered in nothing but dust and dirt of some kind.

The far top reveals that you just climbed a tower, the bridge that would have led directly to Cazador’s ritual is completely broken. But your companions might need help, they might not have lived like you always seemed to. They might need you to pay Withers. Bring them back. Your legs brace themselves for the jump towards the center. You should have jumped further, you realize, as your chest collides with jutted bricks, your breath cascaded out as your nails dig into any crevice they can get hold of. A single slip and you start over.

You refuse. You clamber up the edge, sitting right behind what would have been Astarion’s circle. No ashes, no bones, he must be alright. A quick glance tells you that no bones here are mildly human. You push your legs forward once more, stand up. Walk over past Cazador’s empty tomb, his distraught body slowly succumbing to the laws of nature. But not gone.

You stomp over his skull, then you pause, then you repeat. Again and again and again, the heat of rage spreads through you. Fuck this place, fuck Cazador, fuck this ritual.

Your head thumps as you look towards the stairs leading up, leading out. The steps are tenfold worse than from the tower, the adrenaline gone, the rush faded, even the anger disappeared as quickly as it entered.

The top of the stairs is adorned by voices, whispers almost. Then only the silence broken by your tired steps on the staircase. You practically drag your body the rest of the way. Another doorway, leading to…people.

People with swords pointed at you, bows drawn, daggers at the ready. The monster hunters stand ready, their weapons drawn. The center of them, just in front of the elevator that leads out. Astarion. Beautiful, kind, Astarion.

Astarion who pushes past the hunters in front of him, Astarion who runs to you, Astarion who leaps into your arms. Your legs barely brace for his body's impact, before they give in and the two of you collapse onto your knees, the hard floor doing nothing for the pain that shoots through your body.

Gorgeous Astarion who sobs into your embrace as you hold him. The tears stream down your own cheeks, the command for everyone to stand down is given. Astarion pulls away, peels himself away from you. The lack of him makes you feel cold.

“You-” Astarion sneers, “I saw you! What did y-”

He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence as the tears cascade over his angry expression and he sends a flurry of weak punches into you. A sob wracks through his body.

“Cazador knew you! You know he knew you.”

You realize Astarion’s eyes are not filled with anger directed at you, but himself. He remembers you. He remembers handing you to Cazador.

“I forgive you, Astarion. I would throw myself off an edge to save you a million times over.” You mutter back, your hands finding the sides of his face. You bring his face to yours, plant a sweet kiss on him. You pull away and plant Astarion’s forehead against you. His hands hold yours, still on his face.

“You’re that invulnerable boy. I’m so sorry.” Astarion mutters through more gasps and sobs.

“I forgive you, I forgave you a long time ago, before ever meeting you again. You’re my everything, Astarion. I wouldn’t change a thing about the past if it meant I would never meet you again.” You tumble out, the saltiness of your tears entering your mouth as your words stumble.

You fall into each other's embrace again, a silent promise. Truth goes both ways. But not now. Now is reserved for this.

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ash-whimsicalfanfic · 1 year

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We Got That Love, The Crazy Kind

Mattheo Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2153

Warnings: Suggestive, fluff, mild language, torture, blood…

Prompt: Mattheo is awkward about showing affection to you in public, so you both are in a bit of an argument. However, Lavendar has a crush on Mattheo and you’ve had enough. Oliver decides to flirt with you and Mattheo wasn’t having it.

*Y/N’s POV*

“How long are you and Mattheo going to keep up this silent treatment?” Pansy asks, the both of us walking towards the courtyard.

“Until he can start treating me like I’m his girlfriend. I’m tired of the way he treats me in public. It’s like…he’s embarrassed of me.” I say, shaking my head upset.

I saw that he was sitting by a tree with Lorenzo Berkshire, Blaise Zambini, Draco Malfoy, and Theodore Nott. Our friends, however since this whole argument with Mattheo and I started, I’ve been sitting elsewhere with Pansy.

She didn’t have to sit with me, but she was a good friend even though I knew how close she was with the guys. Not to mention, Draco is her boyfriend. Yet, she decides to sit with me so I won’t be alone.

“I heard he broke up with her.” I hear.

“Yeah. They did. Because he couldn’t get enough of me. Mattheo…he’s good.” Lavender says.

“Whatever you do, and whatever your thinking, don’t do it.” Pansy pleads, but I stand as she curses.

I start walking towards the table she sat at with her friends as Pansy started to speed walk towards the tree where the guys were. I grabbed Lavendar by her hair and she cries out in pain. I drag her off the bench and let her fall to the ground. I wait until she stands up, glaring at me. I lunge at her, pinning her to the wall as I punch her repeatedly.

All I saw was red.

I’ve heard girls talk about Mattheo, but typically they stop when they see the glare I give them. Lavender doesn’t know when to stop.

“I don’t know what your obsession with my boyfriend is, but I’ve had it.” I snap breathlessly between punches.

“Ms. Y/L/N, enough.” Umbridge warns.

I ignore her when I see her pull her wand out. She points it at me.

“Petrificus Totalus!” She shouts, but I pulled my wand free, pointing it in the direction of her and shout, “Protego!”

She gasps, seeming shocked I would fight a spell. I let Lavendar fall to the ground as her friends rush towards her. I look at Umbridge who looked red in the face and was ready to fire another spell off at me.

“Expelliarmus!” I shout.

Her wand goes flying away from her and I storm out of the courtyard, heading towards the Slytherin dorms. I get to mine, slamming the door shut and locking it before going to my bathroom. I close the door, locking it as I look at myself in the mirror.

What have I done?

I’m suppose to mad at him, yet I can’t ignore what Lavendar says…he wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t be with someone else…right? No…that’s…that’s not my Mattheo.

Who said he was still your Mattheo?

I shake my head, ignoring the stinging in my eyes. I turn the water on and watch the water turn a red-pink color as it washes away Lavendar’s and I’s blood. I grab my wand, pointing at one hand.

“Episkey.” I whisper.

I watch the hand heal before I grab my wand and point it at my other hand, doing the same. I look at myself in the mirror. Who have I become?

I was forced to stand at the front of the class and receive my punishment from Umbridge. She grabs her chair and makes me sit.

“You’ll be punished for the fight you started and then you’ll be punished for ignoring orders from a Professor.” She says.

She gave me a notepad and a quill. I was very aware of what this meant.

“How many lines?” I ask.

“I’ll let you know when it’s finished. I want you to write, “I will not disobey orders”, understood?” She asks.

“Understood.” I say shortly.

I clench my jaw, starting to write my lines as if it didn’t bother me. I ignored the stinging at the back of my eyes and focused on the quill in hand as she taught away. I take in a slow deep breath before letting it out. Blood dripped down my hand and was dripping to the floor. My hands shook slightly, but I continued to do as asked.

“Alright. Good. It’s been half the class. How’s your hand?” She asks.

“Peachy.” I say bluntly, looking up at her with a blank stare.

“Is this you talking back?” She asks.

“You’d know if I was talking back. What next?” I ask.

“I don’t think your punishment is working,” she says as she pulls her wand out, “imperio.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

“Take the quill, write on your arm. Write mudblood. Until I say stop.” She says.

“You can’t do this!” Mattheo snaps.

“It’s against the rules.” Harry adds, looking quite frightened.

I grimace as I bring the quill to my arm and it digs into it as I write the saying I’ve heard all across my life. I close my eyes, my hand moving and continuously writing “mudblood” into my arm, going deeper each time.

“Mr. Riddle, Mr. Potter, enough. I can punish my students how I like. Maybe this will teach her a lesson.” She says, before going back to teaching.

I opened my eyes, looking at the word that was carved into my arm. A word that haunts me far too much. Maybe that’s why Mattheo is so embarrassed of me. I’m a mudblood. That is who I will always be.

“Alright Ms. Y/L/N, you can stop.” She says and I felt a weight lifted off me.

I throw the quill and pad of paper in her direction as I stand, walking out of the room as I ignore her calls. I get to the Slytherin dorms and Snape stops me.

“It’ll scar, but let me heal it.” He says.

“It’s fine.” I mutter.

He grabs my arm with a sigh, using his wand to heal it. I nod before walking away towards my dorm where I close the door and lock it.

I pull my shirt off and pull on a long-sleeve, wanting to hide that horrid word before I lay on my bed. I hear a knock on my door, but I ignore it.

“It’s me.” Pansy says.

I stay quiet, staring at the wall. She sighs, knocking again.

“Let me in. Let us in. We want to make sure your okay. That wasn’t okay of Umbridge to do. That was…torture.” She says.

“I’m okay. I want to be alone, so leave me alone.” I say calmly, fighting my turmoil of emotions.

I couldn’t avoid them forever. I avoided them for a good two weeks, by holing myself up in my dorm. Snape brought me my work, but he said I had to return to my classes today.

I was dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. I never wore long-sleeves, but I couldn’t get that horrid word off my arm.

I put my hair up in a messy bun, looking at myself in the mirror blankly. I’ve gotten paler over the past two weeks which could be from not eating like I normally should. I had bags under my eyes and my eyes in general just looked tired.

I grab my bag and wand before I began to head towards Umbridge’s class. I walk in and she looks at me surprised.

“And I thought you left Hogwarts.” She mocks.

“And I wish someone Avada Kedavra’d you. Yet, your still here.” I say tiredly, going to my empty seat at the back of the class.

“Do we need to repeat your punishment?” She asks.

“Go on with teaching. Your punishment did nothing the first time and I doubt it would do anything this time.” I snap.

“And detention, Potter. I said, Cedric’s death was a tragic accident.” She says, turning her focus on him.

“Like your birth?” I ask annoyed.

“Y/n, enough.” Mattheo’s whispers harshly.

“Y/L/N, leave my classroom now. I’ve had enough.” She says calmly.

“Gladly.” I say, standing to gather my stuff as she starts to lecture me.

“Umbitch. Lecturing me, and shouting at me, and telling me to hurry up isn’t going to get me to move faster. You should’ve been killed months ago cause you are such a pain in the ass. How did you end up here? Honestly because you are pretty fucked up,” I say, laughing before looking at her, “and you don’t own me.”

I walk out of the room as Draco whistles.

“Damn.” Mattheo mutters.

I was in the courtyard working on my studies as everyone else finally filed out. I was sitting at the table Pansy and I had been occupying before I holed myself up in my room. Pansy and the guys join us.

“Hey, how are you?” Pansy asks softly.

“I don’t need pity and treated like I’m so broken glass doll.” I say, flipping the page of my textbook.

“We are your friends. We care about you.” She says.

“Well care less.” I say annoyed.

“Snape said it scarred.” She says.

“And if it did?” I ask.

“I know how much you hate that word. Your a powerful witch though. Better than Granger. Let me see it.” She says.

“Y/N.” Oliver says.

“Yes, Oliver?” I ask, looking up.

“Can we talk…alone?” He asks.

My eyebrows furrow, but I nod slowly. I follow him towards a tree that wasn’t occupied, away from everyone. My eyes flicker to my table to see that they kept glancing over and Mattheo was watching intently. I didn’t miss the look of jealously.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” He asks.

“Your pathetic, Oliver! You called me over here, to ask me out when you know I have boyfriend!” I exclaim, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t have to know. And he acts like you both aren’t together anyway. I can treat you better.” He says.

“In your wildest dreams, Wood. Get away.” I snap, going to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.

I pull my arm free, backing myself up against a tree as he steps forward. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face that must’ve fallen out from the bun.

“It’s always been you, Y/L/N. Mattheo doesn’t have to know about this. You and I…we’d be a better couple. I could treat you better.” He says.

“You’re a real piece of work, Wood. I love Mattheo, even if he doesn’t show his feelings towards me in public, I love him. Nothing will happen between you and me. Now, let me go.” I snap.

*Mattheo’s POV*

“I think Oliver is flirting with her.” Draco says.

I watch her and could tell she was uncomfortable. She seems upset after whatever he says and was glaring at him. She goes to walk past him, but he grabs her arm and I clench my jaw.

“Don’t do it man.” Theo warns.

“Ah shit. He’s backed her up against the tree and is going in for a kiss.” Lorenzo says.

I get up, storming towards the two of them and I push Oliver down to the ground as Pansy pulls Y/N into a hug.

“Okay, motherfucker now you got my attention.” I say, grinning as I start throwing punches at him.

“Not again.” Lorenzo sighs.

“Mattheo! Come on man! Stop! Umbridge will flip!” Draco snaps.

He and Lorenzo were trying to pull me off of Oliver, but all I saw was red. He touched her and he knew she is mine.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again! She’s mine, Wood! Next time I’ll kill you!” I snap.

“Mattheo…please.” She whispers.

I freeze, before looking over my shoulder to see that Pansy and Theodore were holding her back from coming to me. I’ll thank them for that later. Oliver hits me, and I turn back to him and hit him again before getting up.

I walk to her, pulling her towards me. She looks up at me with watery eyes. I lose a hand in her hair, messing up the bun. I pull her closer to me as I lean down and kiss her roughly.

Her hands rest on my chest as she kisses me back. I pull away, resting my head against her forehead as I look into her gorgeous (your eye color) eyes.

“I love you.” She says softly.

“Your mine.” I snap.

“I’m yours.” She says, smiling slightly.

I pull away before throwing her over my shoulder. She gasps, hitting my back as she snaps at me to put her down.

“Not happening. I’ll put you down when we get to my dorm.” I say and her cheeks flush as Draco “ooohs”.

“Mattheo!” She exclaims embarrassed.

“They got that love.” Lorenzo chuckles.

“Yeah, the crazy kind.” Pansy teases.

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elitadream · 7 months

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"Wh... Who are you?"

I couldn't resist. 🙇‍♀️ Here's another quick scene I made for the body swap concept, this one directly inspired by your inquiries!

A little gift for @pianokantzart, who seemed especially invested in Luigi's side of the story.^^ Enjoy!

#This is only one of the MANY different versions I've explored for this scene!#I chose this one because it was the most eerie out of the bunch 👀😅#Poor Luigi #He knows #and that makes him even MORE of a target ><#Mario #Luigi #Body swap #personal concept #mystery #suspense #mild angst #Super Mario Bros #fanart

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madamemachikonew · 8 months

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DAWEI CONFIRMED NEUVILLETTE BEING SENSITIVE TO THE TASTE OF WATER IS CANON. I FUCKING PREDICTED IT!!

Go read Les Madeleines - Neuvillette x GN!Reader (SFW - Teen and above)

#neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette my beloved #genshin ao3 #genshin fanfic #fluff #mild angst #comfort #suitable for all #I love sad otter man #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x you #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

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ladykailitha · 7 months

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Crossroads

So I started writing this last night thinking it would be a short little drabble. At over 2k words, it is NOT a drabble. It is a full on fic at this point.

Enjoy!

Steve was at a crossroads.

To his right was his mother, calling him sweetly to come back inside so they can talk. Work something out. To stay with her and his father.

On his left was Eddie. Dear sweet Eddie calling out from him to run away with him. To get in his van and chase the sun for as long as they could and maybe find a new place to rest their heads. For a moment or to throw roots.

He could see the two paths before him as easily as he could see them standing before him.

If he went with his mom, they would convince him to give up his friends, Eddie. Well, they'd let him keep the Wheeler siblings and Dustin. But everyone else would have to go. Byers, Max, and Eddie because they were poor. The Sinclairs because they were black. He doubted they would keep him from El, considering who her adopted father was, but it would be a near thing. Robin would have to go. She would be a little too queer for their liking.

He would be forced to work for his dad where the employees would hate him and the managers would resent him. He would marry some dull woman picked out by them and have as many kids as possible.

Pretty much the life he thought he would have with Nancy their junior year of high school. He would be comfortable, well taken care of and absolutely fucking miserable. For the rest of his life.

If he went with Eddie...there would no certainty at all. It would very likely be hard. They wouldn't have a lot of money (the government hush money could only take them so far after all). It would a life on the road as Eddie and his band traveled the country looking for fame and fortune. It would be rough. Five boys in cramped quarters.

It's possible the band wouldn't even survive two days let alone two years.

But Eddie would love him. He would be loved. Not just by Eddie, but Robin and the kids. Nancy and Jonathan and even funky little Argyle. As their friends spread out over the country, Steve and Eddie would visit them all. And maybe someday they'd find their place. Throw down roots maybe even grow a family of their own.

Steve took a deep breath and started walking.

Eddie wanted to call out to Steve, beg him to stay. To give him a chance to be something. Together.

He watched in horror and disappointment as Steve took one step and then another toward his mother. He couldn’t look away as Steve reached her.

Steve’s name caught in his throat. Would she at least let them say their goodbyes or would the last memory Eddie had of the love of his life would be his back as he walked back into the house with his mother?

Steve kissed his mother’s forehead and then suddenly he was running.

Eddie barely had time to open his arms before Steve had filled them.

Eddie opened his mouth to ask, but Steve kissed him fiercely. “Come on Eds, let’s go.”

He pulled back and looked Steve in the eye. “You coming with me, darlin’?”

Steve nodded. He looked back at his mother and then at Eddie. “It’s for the best, I think.”

Eddie knew he was right. Knew it was the best thing for everyone. But he still couldn’t believe it.

“All right, baby,” he finally said after a moment of taking it all in. “Let’s go find that horizon, shall we?”

Steve grinned. “Hell yeah!” He swung into the passenger side of Eddie’s van and Eddie hopped into the driver’s side.

They had sold the BMW for extra cash as the van would be better suited for traveling cross-country in. It had been put in his name a long time ago and it was the last connection to his parents.

Steve kissed Eddie on the cheek.

Eddie laughed. “What was that for, sweetheart?”

“For luck!”

“You my princess, baby?”

Steve laughed too. “The van is in much better shape then Millennium Falcon, sunshine.”

Eddie cackled as he pulled out of the driveway. He was going to start a life with the boy of his dreams. Life really couldn’t be sweeter.

When Maureen Harrington saw her Steven start walking towards her, she knew.

She had lost him. Maybe she never had him. He was determined in a way she had never seen before. He was resolved.

“I have to go,” he whispered as though the answer was pulled from him.

She nodded, tears forming on her lashes. “I understand.”

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a ring. She looked at it and her heart sank.

“No, Steven,” she murmured. “Your grandfather gave that to you.”

He pressed it into her hand. “I know, but think of it as my promise to come back. To see you. That I’m not giving up on you, I’m just choosing my own path instead of the one you and Dad wanted for me.”

Maureen clasped it tight her perfectly manicured hands to her chest. “I love you.”

He nodded and kissed her forehead goodbye.

She watched misty-eyed as he ran to his boyfriend, tears streaming down her face. She stood in that driveway until they were both out of sight.

She wiped her eyes and went back inside.

“Where’s that wastrel son of yours?” Clint growled.

“Saying goodbye,” she lied.

“Good.”

He turned on his heel and then said over his shoulder. “I want him in office the second he comes in, you hear me.”

She nodded knowing that he would be angry with her later. But she also knew that he would blame Edward Munson and not her for Steven not staying.

Maureen paused. She did feel a little guilty about that, but it was unavoidable. She slipped into the kitchen. The one room Clint would never enter willingly and sat down next to the phone.

She had work to do.

Wayne had just settled in for the night when his phone rang. He heaved a sigh and got wearily to his feet. The government had paid a hefty sum for the witch hunt of his nephew and an even tidier sum for keeping quiet about the monsters, which meant he wouldn’t have to work another day in his life.

But he still got a nice little job down at the local plant nursery watering the plants a couple times a week for something to do. He had just gotten home from that when the phone rang.

“Hello?” he greeted.

“Hello,” greeted the warm female voice. “I’m looking for an Edward Munson, is he there?”

Wayne sighed again. “May I ask what this is regarding?”

“Of course,” she said brightly. “He applied with us a couple weeks ago and I was just getting back with him.”

“Ya just missed him,” he said. “He went on a vacation and won’t be back for a few days.” Weeks, really. But he didn’t want to scare her off in case she actually had a job for him.

“That is unfortunate,” she said softly. “I will hold on to his application of course, but I can’t guarantee the job will be there when he returns.”

Wayne sighed a third time. He knew it had been too much to ask, but it had been worth a shot.

“I appreciate you thinking of him,” he said.

“Of course, you have a good day.”

He cursed his nephew’s luck again. Just as things were starting to look up for him, he missed getting a job by mere hours.

That was the last he thought about that conversation for a few days until a large manila envelope came for Eddie and Steve care of him. The damn thing even read: Steven Harrington and Edward Munson, C/O Wayne Munson.

The boys had gave him permission to open anything that might come from the government or the kids in case it was urgent, but he wasn’t sure about this.

Thankfully he was save from something like indecision when his phone rang.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie cried cheerfully. “You’ll never guess where we are!”

“Disneyland?” Wayne guessed with a huff of laughter.

“Aww...you guessed,” Eddie pouted.

“A letter came for you and Steve,” he said. “You two want me to open it?”

He heard whispering and then Eddie came back. “Steve says go ahead.”

Wayne opened the envelope and as he read the contents, he put his hand over his mouth as tears streamed down his face. It took a couple of tries, clearing his throat before he said, “It’s from your mom, Steve.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a bunch of paperwork transferring your joint bank account with your parents to one with Eddie,” Wayne explained. “As well as your information about your trust fund.”

“Oh.” Steve’s voice is breathless. “God. I assumed that they nixed that when I failed to get into college. That’s what it was supposed to be for after all.”

“Not according to the documents your mom sent over,” Wayne explained. “It was supposed to be given to you under one of three circumstances. Getting into college–”

Steve scoffed. “There went that one.”

“Getting married,” Wayne said.

Again Steve scoffed. “Would explain why they weren’t a big hurry for me to get hitched.”

Eddie and Wayne both chuckled in stereo causing Steve to laugh at how similar they were.

“Or when you turned twenty-one,” Wayne finished. “Which means next year the money is yours.”

“How much money could there be?” Eddie asked with a snort.

“By the time Steve gets it, at current interest rates?” Wayne said. “A little over a million dollars.”

“What?” Steve asked, his heart in his throat.

“Yup,” Wayne said. “And according to the bank statements of the new account she set up for the two of you, it has about three hundred thousand in it.”

“How?” Steve stammered.

“Well, according the statements of your previous account that she also sent along,” Wayne said ruffling through the pages, “there were deposits of five hundred dollars a month since you were born. As well as your checks from your jobs; the community center, the mall and of course Family Video.”

“Okay,” Steve muttered darkly, “but that only makes up for about a third of what you said was in there.”

“Apparently your first payment for stopping the apocalypse was put into this account when you were under the age of eighteen.”

Eddie swore. “And they didn’t fucking tell you?”

Wayne hummed. “Looks like there were some large withdrawals at first, but they were put back in only a couple months later.”

Steve scoffed. “Probably my dad and my mom making him put it back.”

“I agree,” Wayne said. “That makes the most sense. So if we add what you got from the government for your subsequent apocalypses, you boys will never have to work a day in your lives unless you wanted to.”

“Holy shit, baby,” Eddie cooed. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “It’s all unbelievable.”

Wayne nodded even though they couldn’t see him. “She also lists a couple of good financial advisors. I’ll give them a call and find one that fits, but you boys are free to do whatever the hell you want now.”

“Thank you, Wayne,” Steve murmured.

“Thank your mom, Stevie,” he mumbled. “She’s the one that did everything.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “I will. I promise.”

Steve slid down in the cramped little phone booth in shock. They had only meant to tell Wayne that they had made it California and that they were having a good time. He sure as hell wasn’t expect to have his life completely upended.

It was a good kind of unending. There was no doubt about that. But when he made the choice to be with Eddie, he made in spite of money not for money.

Eddie held out his hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s go make some noise in the happiest place on earth.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah. I can’t wait!”

As they walked through park slurping on sodas and laughing, Steve knew he had made the right choice.

Because really, falling in love with Eddie was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @redfreckledwolf @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @itsall-taken @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @vecnuthy

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #mild angst #happy ending

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