#probably the moment you realized you were in over your head and justice will come for all of you eventually

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous — next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: You learn the identity of your new undead friend, get a mini ‘makeover’, catch your crush’s attention and bury a body while Eddie learns throwing up on the girl he’s interested in probably doesn’t display his potential as a boyfriend, but his protective nature might.

Chapter Warnings: a stinky boy, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing (on eddie’s behalf). oh yeah, and murder.

a/n: so i lied, this is actually longer than the first chapter and i accepted my fate. we’re getting to the fun stuff, though. next up: more vigilante justice, eddie lore and emerging feelings for a certain dead man walking. hope you like it!

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“C’mon, over here.” You gestured to your open doorway, watching your new zombie pal hobble up the final step and round the staircase. His movements were harsh, stiff as hell and made your bones hurt to watch for whatever reason. Every over limp was accompanied by an inhuman grunt, and you wondered if moving his limbs might actually be painful for him.

  You were never particularly skilled in the art of masking your emotions, so your eyebrows were furrowed, mouth parted and upper lip tucked up to clearly display your phantom discomfort. 

  Once he was close enough, you crossed over the threshold, standing a little in front of your bed as he wandered in, large eyes immediately raking over everything on your walls. After beckoning him further in, you moved around the filthy corpse standing in your room to close the door. 

  “Despite your deadly good looks, we can’t risk anyone seeing you. No one else can know you’re here.” You informed him, trying to stress the seriousness of the situation without seeming too controlling. While you had waited for The Zombie to struggle up the stairs, you’d determined there were three possible ways this town would react to discovering a member of the dead had risen—that only seemed to be socially acceptable and celebrated in the form of Jesus Christ:

 1.) Pitchforks and Torches.

2.) News, Military, and Government attention, which would no doubt mean you’d have to break him out of some lab.

3.) Pitchforks and Torches, News, Military, and Government attention, which would mean you’d have to save him from an angry mob before inevitably losing him once News stations picked the story up, causing subsequent Military and Government interference and the scientific study of your undead friend in some high tech/high defense lab, leaving you to figure out how to break into and get him out of it. 

  Or, he could just not leave your bedroom. A beautiful alternative.

  The Zombie didn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling forward—and banging his foot against the leg of your bed frame—to take a better look at your things. He was grunting and groaning, though this time it seemed to be a little different. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself. Or maybe to you. 

  Zombies in film seemed to be able to voice their demands for brains. Could he? Did he have the same urge or need to eat brains? How would you even feed a zombie?

  “Can you talk?” You asked, leaning back against the door, eyes on him as he had to hop in place in order to turn his body to face you, “Like, speak? With words?”

  He seemed to consider your question for a moment, eyes darting to the side.

  “Uuuuuuunnnggghhh.”

  “So, that’s a no. Do you…do you need brains? Because I’m not sure I can get you any of those—and if you think for one second that you’re gonna eat mine, you should know I fall under fight when it comes to fight or flight responses. I’m like an alley cat, I’ll fuck you up.”

  The Zombie stumbled back, rocking from side to side. It took you a moment to realize he was trying to shake his head, no.

  Interesting.

  “No brains?”

  Again, he rocked from side to side, “Uunggh-uunghh.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Your defenses dropped immediately as you played with your hair, pulling gently at a section of it, “Well, what do you eat?”

  He did the choppy shoulder raise he’d done in the livingroom earlier, “Unnhh unnhh.” 

  Your lips curled into a small, fascinated smile. Okay, you knew he had been once alive, once a human being existing on this earth with blood pulsing through his veins—and now he was dead.

  Yet, he wasn’t dead. He was dead but standing in your bedroom, amongst your girly things and not so girly things, staring at you in his grotesque form, and shrugging I dunno, like some alive person. A full blown, supernatural one-time (to your knowledge) occurrence only depicted in Sci-fi films and horrors.

  Why you? What did he want with you?

  You hadn’t realized you’d voiced the question until he hobbled back around to your bedroom wall, raising his left hand, and the only one he seemed to have, up to one of the tombstone etchings. His fingers were all sorts of fucked up, frozen in the most uncomfortable looking positions as a result of rigor mortis in whatever position he’d died.

  “What? That? It’s just an etching I made of a tombstone.”

  He craned his head around, and you tried not to be freaked out with the way his neck hadn’t turned enough with it, tapping his crooked pinky finger against the craft paper and then moved it to his chest.

  Your eyes zeroed in on the etching, trying to understand what he was attempting to tell you. 

  It was MUN’s tombstone—no, Eddie Munson’s tombstone.

  Your jaw dropped. Had to be somewhere around your feet, on the floor. Holy. Shit.

  “That’s you? You’re Eddie Munson?” It was rude, but you openly pointed at him.

  He didn’t grunt in response this time, rather, he began to cough and gag as he jerked his body around to get his hand in his dirty jeans. 

  While he did whatever it was, you took the time to take him in even further. He wore black jeans, but under his leather jacket he seemed to be wearing a discolored dress shirt that had once probably been white. You had a feeling the sneakers on his feet, while horrendously dirty, weren’t all that worn out. Dress pants were pricey, you knew that much after buying some for your father when your mother would take you to outlets and malls with her. Dress shirts were a little cheaper and new shoes were seen as a staple in big events for peoples’ lives, such as graduations, birthdays, dances, weddings and funerals. 

  You had a sneaking suspicion this lively carcass hadn’t been from this part of town when he was alive. 

  “UUUUUUNNNNGGGHHHH!” The Zombie moaned out, almost victoriously as his stiff arm stuck straight up in the air. Dangling from his curled fingers, was your mother’s pearl necklace. You’d seen it last when you’d entrusted MUN with it yesterday.

  You gasped, reaching out as he lowered it into your furled palm. 

  With the proof in your hand and his corpse before you, you knew you were speaking to Eddie Munson. He was, without a doubt, the grave you’d been running to.

  “Holy crap, you are Eddie Munson!” You gripped the pearls in your fist, eyes wide and blinking rapidly to try to make sense of it all, “You were murdered and now you’re not—I mean, you were, but you’re back from the dead, standing in my—ooh, standing pretty close actually.”

  You tried not to flinch as you became aware of just how close he’d stumbled over to you. Definitely within arms-length. He didn’t exactly stink, his flesh looked much too leathery to actually smell (you weren’t about to lean in and sniff to test the theory), but the scent of wet dirt was strong and the smell of whatever he’d spat on you earlier seemed to be lingering. 

  Zombie Eddie was in desperate need of a shower.

  “So, this is all pretty cool and bizarre—I’m a fan of both—but uhm, why are you here…? Like, in my house.”

  He slouched even further into your space, this time you did flinch a little as the most muffled whimper sounded from him. Reminded you of the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz when he couldn’t speak properly because he was all rusted up. 

  Eddie held eye contact as he struggled to grab hold of your hand and the minute he did, dirt from his skin pressing into yours, you knew what was coming.

  Because of course it would. This is something that would only happen to you.

  Shakily, Eddie tried lifting your hand and your mouth puckered, brows furrowing before you sucked your lips into your mouth as you watched him prepare to kiss your hand with his filthy, dead, dried out lips that still had bits of that green goop he’d spat up around it.

  You were a nice person—a relatively decent human being, but you weren’t that nice and you didn’t wanna have to go to the hospital on the off chance that you caught something from a corpse. Explaining that one would send you straight to the psych ward and probably end in some sort of abuse of a corpse charge, so you quickly pulled your hand out of his grasp, rubbing your fingers together to roll some of the dirt off of them.

  “Okay, okay, I see, mhm—alright. You’re here because—when I said I wished I was with you, I didn’t mean like, I wanted to have your dead body…y’know, pressed up against mine. I meant like…in the grave. Next to you. Like buried there because I’d be dead. It was a moment of intense angst—I’m nineteen and my life is in the fucking gutter. I’m surrounded by terrible people in this town and I have the rest of my life to live out this way.

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on or something, and I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to do literally anything with a corpse, other than bury it.”

  The two of you stood there, just staring at each other. He still hadn’t moved out of your space and you were still kind of leaning back, away from him, so you added, “So. Just a little recap, I wanted to be dead. Did not mean I wanted to be with you. Romantically. Together. Like a couple.”

  And then you felt a little guilty because that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Well, not with you as a cadaver.” Because you had fantasized about the person in the grave being a source of comfort to you, “Or—or, you in general. ‘Cause…’cause I didn’t know it was you given how fucked up your shit was, and I didn’t know you when you were alive.”

  God, you were messing this up. Rather than continuing your ongoing word vomit, you flashed him a tight smile.

  Finally, you got a reaction out of him. He creaked back, those little whimpering sounds coming from his lips before that same nasty ass green shit from before started leaking out from behind his eyeballs.

  You’d made him cry.

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—I just moved here a couple of months ago and you were already dead by then! I’m sure you were a lovely person and I would have liked y—y—yo—ECH!”

  You gagged, hand flying up to cover your mouth and nose as you felt the contents of your stomach start to make its way back up. While your hand was in that position, it squeezed the tip of your nose, cutting of the assault currently taking place against it.

  Whatever it was Zombie Eddie was secreting instead of his tears, stunk. It was the most putrid scent you’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. Nothing could compare to it, not literal shit, not vomit, not pasta that had been left out to cook in the sun for several weeks, nothing.

  You were sure one more sniff of it, and your nostril hairs would either shrink and curl up, or disintegrate. 

  “MOTHER OF GOD—your tears smell horrendous—I’m gonna throw u—ECH!”

  You gagged again, tears flooding your sight and you hurried over to the bathroom, gesturing for him to follow behind you.

  Chrissy had left her door to the bathroom open, so you skidded across the tile to shove it closed, desperate to make sure the scent didn’t reach the room and wouldn’t linger in there.

  She’d drive you straight to the ER to get checked out, because nothing you could possibly shit out should ever and would ever smell that bad.

  You yanked the shower curtain back from the tub, setting Chrissy’s products to the side and out of the way, “You need to bathe like two years ago, my dead guy.”

  You stepped to the side, pointing into the tub with a finger as your other hand rested on your hip like you were ordering a misbehaving child in.

  Eddie groaned, and you got the feeling that he was unimpressed with your theatrics. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t been dramatic about it. His stank tears had to be an actual biohazard and you didn’t want to think about the fact that very same biohazard had been projectile vomited onto your face a couple of minutes ago. You were so gonna scrub it raw.

  Begrudgingly, he hobbled over to your tub and struggled over the edge until he was in—his upper half slamming into the tile wall. 

  You didn’t say anything about him being fully clothed, shoes and all, because everything he wore needed a good rinse off. If not, you’d have to hose his clothes down in the yard before subjecting the dryer and washer to them.

  “There’s my soap.” You pointed out the pink bottle of pomegranate and berry scented shower gel, “And my shampoo and conditioner—those two are very expensive and a little goes a long way, so don’t waste any.”

  You eyed him for a moment, mouth twisting in consideration, “Nevermind, it’ll take half the bottles to get your hair clean, I’ll just have to replace them a little earlier than my budget expected.”

  This time, Eddie’s mouth parted rather wide as he moaned out, “UHNNNGGHH.”

  He was probably telling you to fuck off already, but you were distracted by whatever insect was currently in his mouth, on his tongue.

  “SPIT IT OUT!” You shrieked, and he aimed his head down, the large thing with too many legs falling right out to crawl around on your bathroom floor.

  You screamed as you began to stomp around, trying to crush it beneath your remaining slipper but it kept evading it! Finally, your foot flattened it with a satisfying crunch.

  The evil had been defeated. You were nearly panting, shoulders rising and falling as you calmed your breathing and another sound registered.

  Eddie was croaking now, it sounded almost like the most painful gasps someone would let out on their deathbed. You stared, puzzled for a moment before it dawned on you.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He did it again, stiff body leaning completely back on the shower tiles now.

  “Oh my god, you are! YOU DICK!” You slapped the side of his arm and then quickly yanked it back, frowning at the mud now caked to the back of your fingers. 

  “Ugh,” you tried to shake some of it off over the tub, your head shaking as well—and despite the predicament, you found the corners of your lips twitching but you refused to smile. Wouldn’t let him get that over you, “You’re gross. That better be the last living creature to come out of you, you Zombie Headbanger, take a shower.”

  You didn’t give him a chance to moan, groan or croak at you again, yanking the curtains back to shield the tub and it’s undead occupant.

  You rolled your eyes, almost fondly, and gathered too much toilet paper to wipe up the remnants of the bug and toss it in the trash. Should’ve been in a different corpse’s mouth if it wanted to live.

  “You know how to work a shower, don’t you?” You asked aloud as you approached your bathroom counter, taking notice of the bathroom mirror as you uncapped a room spray and gave your bathroom a good burst of it. The mirror had already been replaced, looked like Laura couldn’t stand to know there was something imperfect in the house—aside from you. 

  You heard the tub start to run before the shower stream took over. At least he still remembered that much.

  “You wanna listen to some music?” You asked over the loud stream of the shower.

  “Uunngh.”

  You took that as a yes and leaned over the counter to tweak the knob of the radio you and Chrissy always left on it. Immediately, a country station started playing and you quickly switched the station.

  “That’s not one of mine! Chrissy listens to Country whenever she misses her ex-boyfriend, I don’t know why.”

  You kept twisting the dial through various stations. When you hit a station midway through Disposable Heroes, you turned the knob again only for your companion to voice his outrage.

  “UUUUUUNNNGGHHHH!!!”

  “What?” You switched the station back, “You like Metallica?”

  He grunted from behind the shower curtain, and the scent of your body wash began to fill the bathroom, much to your relief. You could hear him banging around in there, probably not the easiest to wash up with a bad case of rigor mortis.

  “They’re alright, I liked Ride the Lightning, but Master of Puppets is good, too. Their last album was good, too, but it felt kind of different. Not the same without Burton.”

  Eddie made a sound of confusion, hand with the fucked up fingers reaching out to push the curtain back so he could poke his head out.

  You met his gaze through the mirror, “You don’t know?”

  He just blinked, almost owlishly. 

  Shit. He must have died before the fall of ‘86. You’d have to ask Chrissy when exactly Eddie had died.

  “The bass player, Cliff Burton? He died in ‘86. Bus accident.”

  You watched as Eddie’s gaze dropped, and the groan he let out sounded remarkably sad as he ducked back behind the curtain.

  Unsure of what to say to make him feel better, you let the radio play out the rest of the duration of Eddie’s shower and took diligent care in washing your face and brushing your teeth. Once he was done, smelling amazing and just like you, you’d had him shed his clothes for one of your nightgowns and dragged him back to your closet.

  You knew he was quite literally stiff, but he seemed extra unenthused with his choice of ensemble, so you were going to let him choose his own.

  “Alright, take your pick.” You yanked the doors of your walk-in closet (as in you could take three steps in and that's it) open and he flinched back at the amount of pink seeping out of it. When he made no move to look through his options, you selected one for him.

  An even gaudier nightgown you tried to shove in his arms. And he let you, before purposely dropping it to the ground while holding eye contact. 

  “Well, I thought you would have looked great in it.” You mumbled as he creaked down to pick it up for you. When Eddie hobbled into the closet to hang it up, you shut the doors behind him, “Pick something else and then you can come out!”

  Your closet doors didn’t lock though, so you were just banking on him assuming they did and you heard his offended zombie groaning. While you waited, listening to him no doubt bang into the walls as he struggled to dress himself, grunting and groaning, you twirled around on your desk chair.

  Eventually, the closet doors parted and you gasped at the sight of him, standing there in your lavender fluffy, oversized sweater and pair of white pajama pants with hearts all over them. He couldn’t really move his face all that much, not very expressive and yet you could somehow tell he was scowling.

  “You look like Grimace.” Was all you said, mind conjuring up Ronald McDonald’s purple monster friend.

  The closet doors were promptly slammed shut. When he emerged once more, gone was the former ensemble. Eddie was wearing a neon green skirt, a tight off the shoulder black top, and nothing else.

  You wolf whistled at his skinny, severely discolored legs.

  He stuck one out, modeling it for you and you realized he was humoring you. You laughed, eyes crinkling.

  “You tryna knock me dead, too?”

  When he nodded, you laughed again and stood up to rummage through your dresser. You found a band tee you used as a pajama top, and some black pants that looked like they might fit him. Then you spotted a red plaid flannel you had hanging on your bedroom door, waiting to be placed in the closet.

  The clothing items were shoved into his arms and you pushed him back into the closet.

  When he came out (eheheheh) again, you were practically bouncing in your seat. You’d never seen Eddie alive before, had never seen him in clothes that weren’t his burial ones, and he definitely still looked as much of a Zombie as Michael Jackson had looked in the Thriller music video, but he also looked like a young adult, and very much so in his Metal element. He was stretching your baby blue socks to their limit, but they’d have to do until you could steal some from your dad. You’d scrub his shoes tomorrow, before class.

  If Eddie were alive, he’d look…hot.

  You smiled to yourself, still taking him in as you realized you were looking at Eddie Munson.

  To show your admiration, you clapped for him, “That’ll do real well. What do you think?”

  Eddie raised his forearm and you tilted your head, confused. He followed your gaze and groaned, rolling his eyes as he realized that was the arm lacking a hand. Then, he held up his other arm, painful looking thumb finger cracking and popping until he was giving you a thumbs up. You ended up tying a scarf around the wrist without a hand, just to hide the gaping wound. 

  With the matter of his clothing solved, you moved onto his hair, sitting on the bathroom counter while he stood in front of you as you worked on detangling with a spray bottle and a legion of hair products. It took some TLC, and ignoring the hole where his ear should’ve been, but you brought his curls back to life. You were shocked to even see he had bangs, they’d been plastered to the top of his head when he was the Swamp Thing.

  They framed his eyes, looked real good on him and he seemed to enjoy the entire process, eyes slipping shut and little moans (not like that) coming from him.

  “Well, I think we’ve got you back in good shape.” You put down the comb, placing your hand on his shoulders to turn him towards the mirror, “Is this Eddie Munson?”

  You watched his gaze scan his reflection, before those eyes were on yours in the mirror. 

  “Unnnghhh.” Eddie held up his arm with the missing appendage and you nervously scratched the back of your heard.

  “Well, you see, I don’t really have any extra hands on me, at the moment. Just down to these two,” You emphasized the sentence with some jazz hands to display yours, then immediately felt guilty over still having yours so you hid them behind your back.

  Eddie groaned low, lifting his wrist to the side of his head, where his ear should have been and you made a displeased sound. 

  “Oh. Noticed that, did you?”

  His eyes narrowed and even though you had no idea what Eddie had sounded like, you could still hear him in your head, Notice my fucking ear is missing? Yeah, I did.

  “I don’t have any extras of those, either. If it’s a body part, I’m out of stock. But—who cares? Plenty of people live without them.”

  Eddie grunted, eyes narrowing even further at you.

  You winced, “Poor choice of words—the point is, no one will even notice. Because no one is going to see you.”

  Eddie’s next grunt sounded disappointed and you felt even guiltier. What were you supposed to do? You’d already made him look as relatively normal as you could, there was only so many ways you could disguise a zombie who walked oddly, communicated via moan, groan and grunt, and looked like he had a medical skin condition.

  You were about to try to comfort him when you heard the front door open and you gasped.

  “WHAT IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN?” You heard Laura cry out, and your dad shouted your name. 

  “I don’t mean to sound homophobic, but back in the closet!” You shoved him out of the bathroom and in the direction of his new hiding place. He hadn’t looked very keen as you shut the closet doors on him, but he’d have to wait for now.

  Your dad was probably having one hell of a heart attack, staring at the mess of the house, the broken window, fearful a similar situation as your mother’s assault had taken place with you as the victim.

  “I’m alright, daddy!” You reassured as you raced down the stairs to your concerned father. He was concerned alright, but not about you.

  He had Laura in one arm, who was openly distraught about the shards of her damn plates, and Chrissy, who was staring at the mess with open confusion, in the other.

  “You,” Laura spat at you with venom the moment her chilling gaze locked onto your approaching figure, “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Wow. You’d seen an actual Zombie—he was upstairs, in your bedroom closet—and still the most unbelievable thing to happen to you was your ‘family’’s ability to immediately blame you. You hadn’t expected Eddie’s corpse to be the first suspect in their head, still, they’d seen your house ransacked—as you tried to escape your friendly deceased headbanger—with you nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been at all concerned for your wellbeing. God, they sucked.

  “Me?! I didn’t do this!”

  “Then who did!?” Laura screeched back and you found yourself getting angry.

  “The guy who broke in!” You shouted back and Laura immediately rolled her eyes. You could hear your dad say both of your names to calm you down, but you were growing tired of him, too. Like Eddie, he seemed to be missing parts of his body. Noticeably, his goddamn spine.

  “Really? You expect us to believe that after last night? The smashing of the mirror, my precious moments figurines? Muffin, your daughter is out of control. She destroyed my house!”

  “Do you ever use those creepy eyeballs stuck in your skull?” You found yourself blurting out, “Does it look like any part of my body came crashing through that window?!” You pointed aggressively in the direction of the livingroom, where glass littered the floor. It was too much for just an object to have been thrown through and your body had no cuts, nothing to show from possibly jumping through it.

  “Mom, if sissy was attacked─” Chrissy tried, her her mother was having none of it.

  “Attacked? Who would want to attack her? She’s invisible, taking up space!” Laura was practically hysterical as she gathered pieces of her broken dishes, “That’s why she’s acting out, can’t you see? She’s recreating the crime scene that got her so much attention and you’re all falling for it!”

  The woman was crying, mascara smearing around her eyes as her angry glare was once more directed to you, and you found yourself shrinking and hurt at the accusations, “You need serious help. You’re crazy and a danger to us all!”

  “I think you might be mistaking me for your psyche.” You mumbled before turning your attention to your father with pleading eyes, “Daddy, there was a home invasion! I tried to call the police, but as soon as I heard him, I ran up to hide in my room.”

  “She needs help, institutional treatment.” Laura hissed into your father’s ear as as though she was the devil on his shoulder.

  “Daddy…”

  “Mom, sissy’s not a nut, we can’t send her to the looney bin!” 

  You wanted to scream. All this talk about you being insane, and there was a literal walking corpse upstairs who could disprove that. You just weren’t willing to sacrifice Eddie for yourself. 

  “Dad, I’m not crazy. Okay? Last night was just a mirror, and tonight someone broke in. There’s a huge difference between the two, I’m not crazy.” You tried to reason, desperate to not get shipped off to some mental ward. 

  Your dad appeared sympathetic, “No one is calling you crazy, sweetheart.”

  ”I did.” Laura guffawed at your father siding with you.

  “She did, I heard her.” Chrissy confirmed, frowning at her mother.

  “No, Chris. Your mother’s just upset, she’d never say something like that and mean it.” You watched with disgust as he pulled Laura into his arms. It was more than you could stomach so you stormed out of the dining room, making a retreat for your room.

  You were on your own. Your father had just proved that. Laura could say anything to you, treat you like crap, starve you and he wouldn’t ever step in, just continue being his wishy washy self. If it had been him and not your mother that night, you wouldn’t be suffering like this. 

  You’d have a loving parent. 

  You quietly shut your bedroom door once you made it in, leaning your forehead against it as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. Emotions were something you tried to embrace, but crying because of your family felt…wrong. Like something you shouldn’t have to do. 

  Wiping your face, you realized more tears would be coming. Tonight was meant for crying. So, you slipped into bed, tears leaking steadily down your temples to seep into your hair and pillows. You were so hurt and you wanted to sob, but you were conscious of the dead guy in your closet. What if he heard you?

  With a stuttering breath, you peered over at the closet to see the doors barely open and Eddie peaking out at you.

  You rolled onto your side, back facing him to hide your tear stained face and weakness as you thought about how loud you and Laura had been downstairs. He’d probably heard what she said about you.

  It was one thing to be treated the way you were, it felt extra pathetic to have someone bear witness to it. 

  The closet doors closed quietly behind you and just as you did every night, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing sleep to come so you could be done with the day and move onto the next, just solemnly trying to make it through life. 

  Maybe you and Eddie had more in common than you originally thought. Maybe you were a zombie, too.

  When your alarm blared from your nightstand, rousing you from sleep—the only peace you ever seemed to get—you stumbled out of bed almost blindly, eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion as you yanked your closet doors open.

  A garment was immediately thrown over your head, covering your face and you remembered your current house guest.

  With a sigh, you yanked the clothing off your head, balled it up and threw it back at Eddie, “Dude, I have to get dressed. I have class today.”

  Eddie grumbled, un-balling the little black dress and holding it up for you. It was the dress Chrissy had bought on sale and then given to you when she came to the conclusion that black washed her out and she looked much better in pastels.

  “I’m not wearing that, not so much my style.” You tried to push past Eddie, but he remained planted where he stood, grunting as he held the dress out to you once more.

  “Do I look like Madonna to you?” You asked, pushing the dress back towards him. Eddie groaned and threw the dress at your face again, closing the closet doors while you yanked it off your head, again.

  “We’re gonna have to have a conversation about your communication skills later.” You called through the door and fiddled with the dress, “Can I get a sweater or something to go along with this?”

  The closet doors were quickly opened and a new article of clothing was flung over your head before they closed. You’d just pulled the sweater off of your head when the doors opened once more and a hat was tossed at you.

  “Dang—anything else?”

  “Uuunggh.” Eddie moaned through the door, and you tried to pull at them but he must have been holding them shut from the otherside. 

  Resigned to your fate, you swapped out your pajamas for the outfit Eddie had apparently selected for you. He would navigate to the black clothing. You were unsure of it until you saw yourself in the mirror. Normally, your clothes weren't all that revealing. Form fitting—maybe, but never as attention drawing as this. You just figured you weren’t the type that could pull it off.

  You were wrong. 

  The dress hugged your figure in the most complimentary way. It was short, stopped mid-thigh, but it didn’t look awkward or make you feel like your vagina would be on display if you bent over, thanks to the lace of the bottom hem flaring out.

  For once, the girl in the mirror looked stunning. And when you did your makeup, taking your time to smoke a dark blue shadow out along your lash line and eyelids, she looked drop dead gorgeous. 

  You’d walked onto Campus with your head high, body rocking and a new found confidence that hadn’t quite made it’s way to the surface before. The heads turning in your direction were new and you found you kind of liked it, their gazes weren’t uninterested, scowls or looks of annoyance. They were appreciative, even from the straight girls!

  “Okay, am I seeing things or does your sister look drop dead gorgeous?” Tina asked, as Chrissy and her friends stood admiring you from the bench they were occupying.

  “You’ve got perfect 20/20 vision. She’d be unstoppable if she kept the confidence. Could probably even win pageants. Do you think she’d join cheer?”

  Eddie fiddled with one of your shoes, tugging on a shoestring in boredom. He was sat on the floor of your closet, light from your bedroom windows creeping in through the cracks of the doors. 

  You’d lectured him before you left for class, told him he had to stay put. Laura wouldn’t be leaving for her nurses’ conference until the afternoon, so she’d be lingering in the house and she’d have a cow if she stumbled upon him.

  So you’d pointed and lectured until he was creaking and groaning his compliance. 

  He’d stayed in the closet while you got dressed and, after you’d made sure Chrissy had already left, watched you do your makeup in the mirror while you chatted about the classes you had to take for the day.

  Eddie had listened, to the best of his ability with one ear, and stared at your reflection as the heavy sense of longing settled on his chest, crushing the heart that no longer beat but desperately wished to. For you.

  Death was not like he’d ever expected. No heaven, no hell. He was just…dead. Maybe it’d been the way he died. Perhaps, the suddenness of it, his lack of peace in life while living, or the fact that he was murdered, was the reason he saw neither heaven nor hell. He’d just been in a dark place. Literally, no source of light, no out of body experience, just darkness. For a while, it was tolerable, he’d heard Wayne’s voice comforting him. Telling him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. Then, nothing.

  Nothing for so long. Quiet. Silence, not at all a peaceful kind. He no longer existed in life and yet the silence was still somehow smothering. 

  Until one day, he wasn’t alone anymore. 

  You found him. 

  Talked to him all the time, laid with him, kept him company and said such wonderful things. Eddie had no idea how much he’d appreciate hearing about current news events as a dead guy.

  And while you kept him from feeling lonely, there was always a sadness to your presence. Broke his heart when you told him out of place you felt because he just wanted to claw his way out of his grave and tell you that no, you weren’t odd, you weren’t weird, you weren’t out of place. You were unique. You were the type of person he would have admired if he had been alive, different but not desperate to fit in. Just longed to be accepted.

  He understood the sentiment all too well. 

  Eddie understood you. And you had no idea who he was, had voiced as much to him, couldn’t come up with his identity because some fuckers had defaced his tombstone—of course they would—and yet, you knew exactly who Eddie was. Knew him to his very core.

  When you visited him, Eddie felt warm. He had no idea he could even feel things, other than the constant loneliness that had plagued him after Wayne’s presence disappeared, and before you.

  With you, it felt like you were right there with him, beside him. A warmth, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for some much needed comforting. How ironic that he finally found someone who could finally see him, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he was dead. 

  And when you had come to Eddie that fateful night, the sadness he always noticed about you was heavier. A new despair attached, one that had him desperate to get to you, comfort you as you’d done for him.

  I wish I was with you.

  You’d said it. Had said what Eddie had wanted to hear you say for so long, even before he was dead. Before he knew you. It had always been you he was waiting for. He was beginning to understand the universe was bigger than anything he could have imagined (and yeah, maybe universal studios was the first thing that came to mind when he was alive), was positive the heartache he went through was necessary if it led him to you. Eddie could have done without the murder—there was no undoing that. Except, there kind of was. And it happened with a strike of lightning.

  Unlike the many times he wanted to before, he’d actually been able to open his eyes, break out of his coffin and dig his way out of his own grave. 

  Eddie had had a major breakdown, freaking out at just about everything regarding returning from the dead after he’d broken through that final layer of thick terrain, minutely softened by some light rain from the storm. He had first tried to go home, only to find himself face to face with an unfamiliar mobile home set up on Wayne’s lot. A peek into the window revealed a couple. 

  No sign of his uncle.

  It filled him with a sense of panic and he’d needed something—someone to stabilize him, keep him grounded. 

  Eddie was sure he was tied to you. Not only because of the unique bond you shared, he also felt a pull to you. Just some intense instinct. 

  He knew where to go after.

  Your welcome hadn’t exactly been as warm as the grave hangouts—he didn’t blame you, his vocal chords were useless to him for the time being, meaning he couldn’t explain himself as you shrieked and flung dishes at him (and he was impressed) and fled from him. He could make sounds, so Eddie suspected he had the ability to talk, just lacked the healthy cords due to years of non-use to them, what with him being dead and all. 

  Eddie’s case was definitely not helped when he’d broken your fall—he was freaking the fuck out about you dangling from the roof like that—and you’d pressed on him stomache when you landed on him. 

  He hadn’t meant to…y’know…spit all that up on you, it just happened and he immediately wanted to die right after, just roll right back into his grave, he was so fucking embarrassed.

  Projectile vomited on the girl you’re tryna romance, Munson. Nice.

  Then, you hadn’t been attacking him, tugging him along to your room instead where you immediately told him you were just using dark humor to cope and didn’t actually want to be with him.

  Probably something you should have clarified for him before he returned from the dead to be with you, but whatever. He wasn’t mad about it. Just a little bit heartbroken. Definitely didn’t stink up your closet with a little cry sesh while you were at college. Totally didn’t smell like Cherry Bubbles (how is that a scent?) from the bathroom spray he’d had to limp out to grab in an effort to hide the scent of his rotting body tears.

  Now, he was just confused. Had no idea what the hell to do. Thinking on it, it had obviously been stupid as fuck to think you’d want him when he was literally a dead body. Couldn’t exactly stroll down the street, holding his one hand without garnering a few odd looks and arrests. 

  So, what could he do now? Sit in the closet and think about everything. Try to remember everything about his last moments alive—and when it had him wheezing in the closet, cowering in the dark, he’d switched to thinking about his uncle. Concerned. Wondering what had happened to him. When that subject, too, began to promise a panic attack—he switched to thinking about you, and oh how he ached in a different way. You were right there, in reach for him and yet the two of you couldn’t be. 

  The most frustrating part is how good the two of you could be for each other, and Eddie literally couldn’t talk you into giving it a chance, couldn’t even flirt with you. 

  He had some mad rizz when given the opportunity, a body that wasn’t stiff as hell and a fucking voice. Eddie knew he’d be able to get you all shy and cute, similar to how you were when you talked about what you thought he was like back at the cemetery. 

  FUCK. What the hell? Life wasn’t fair to him, death wasn’t fair to him, now life as some zombie wasn’t gonna be fair to him?

  What kind of fucked up existance was this?!

  All because of some stupid fucking lightning that—

  Lightning. Eddie perked up, theories racing through him. If it had brought him back from the dead, maybe it could do more. Before he could think on it further, he heard your door open and froze. 

  It was too soon for you to be home. You said you’d be back in the afternoon, after Laura had left. 

  Eddie heard a scoff.

  “How has it gotten even worse in here?” Laura mumbled to herself. 

  Eddie scowled, as he heard her footsteps enter your room, could hear her padding around. 

  The fuck was she doing in here?

  It was a risk, Eddie pushed the closet door open, just enough to give him a crack to peep through. 

  Your stepmom was in some sort of jazzercise outfit—ugh, of course she did jazzercise. The blonde woman was currently rummaging through your drawers, looking amongst your belongings. 

  She was invading your privacy.

  If Eddie had blood flowing through his veins, it would have been boiling. 

  He’d heard what she said last night, how she berated you. Accusing you of using your mother’s murder to seek attention.

  And the other members of your family weren’t speaking up nearly enough to defend you. He was surprised that Chrissy—small town for Cunningham to be the Chrissy you’d been telling him about—even tried to defend you but she should have been putting her mother in her place. She hadn’t come up to check on you, either. 

  Eddie had a few things he wished he could say to Laura Cunningham, tell her exactly where she could shove her stupid figurines and verbal abuse. 

  If she was searching for something, Laura didn’t find it. She slammed one of your drawers shut, eyed your sketches pinned to your wall with disgust before speed walking out of your room. When she passed the closet, Eddie took notice of the headphones over her ears, could hear whatever she was listening to, Walkman probably set to the loudest volume.

  Eddie’s mouth chipped up into a smirk that kind of hurt his face. He opened the closet door fully, stumbling out to poked his head out of your bedroom doorway just in time to see your stepmom disappear down the stairs.

  Eddie followed, steps loud and uneven. Laura didn’t notice his presence, too engrossed in whatever she was listening to and occupied with her own ego. Looked to be cleaning up the place before her little trip. 

  Laura disappeared into the kitchen, well out of view of the living room so Eddie stumbled in, eyeing the pristine setting. The place looked impeccable, spotless, antiques everywhere that Eddie just knew the old bat was dying to have people ask about so she could name drop and be as haughty as possible.

  Eddie could wreck all of this in no time, and he would if he didn’t know she’d immediately blame you for it. He still felt guilty you’d been chewed out for the mess he made. 

  Bitch.

  Eddie heard her returning, so he hid behind the wall, waiting a few moments before he peered around it and across the foyer, into the dinning room where she was seated after having fixed herself something. Laura still had the headphones on, so Eddie took that as the all clear to continue exploring.

  He spotted a family portrait hung over the fireplace, a seemingly picture perfect family was displayed. A man he assumed to be your father loomed over Laura and Chrissy, one hand on each of their shoulders. Eddie barely glanced at them before you pulled all of his attention. You were stunning, light catching the highlights of your face, lips parted just enough to encourage a pout. Your hair was wild in comparison to the other women in the portrait—Eddie loved it. You looked like you belonged on an album cover for some rock band, even with the sorrow swirling around in your eyes. Your unwavering melancholic stare pinned Eddie, and he could feel himself getting protective over you again. You must have been miserable that day. 

  See, if he had been around, he could have easily cheered you up. Snuck over on the day in question. Laura would have hated his fucking guts—Eddie wouldn’t have minded being the boyfriend your stepmom didn’t approve of.  Horsing around behind the little photo shoot set up to get you smiling, get those pretty eyes of yours twinkling before whisking you the hell out of there once they got the money shot.

  He rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he turned away from the past that never was. Couldn’t have (he’d already been dead), should have (but couldn’t) and would have. In a heartbeat.

  His posture worsened under the weight of his own despair, sulking with it until he spotted an acoustic guitar, tucked in the corner and resting on a stand.

  “Mm?” Eddie tilted his head in curiosity before making his way over. It was difficult to do, but he managed to settle the neck of it in the crook of the arm lacking a hand, and strummed with his stiff fingers, pleased to find that it was already tuned. 

  He plucked a couple more chords, stopping once to adjust a peg. Then the doorbell rang and Eddie’s eyes widened. He fumbled to place the guitar back on its stand and plaster himself against the wall as Laura got up to answer it, having apparently been able to hear it ring but not his guitar playing.

  “Yes?” Laura asked as she opened the door, impatience soaking through her tone.

  “Carpet cleaning.” A man’s voice stated, sounding bored beyond measure. 

  “Carpet Cleaning? My carpet is so clean you can lick the fibers.” God, was your stepmom ever not insufferable? The carpet cleaner salesman seemed to be thinking the same thing and Eddie figured he had to be annoyed with his work day already to say what he did next.

  “I doubt the one downstairs is.” The salesman snorted and Eddie would have snickered if he could as he heard Laura let out an affronted and embarrassed gasp. 

  “EXCUSE ME?!” 

  The guy must have turned tail because Laura was stepping out after him, yelling as she closed the front door behind her. 

  Eddie eyed the bowl she’d been eating from, curiosity getting the better of him as he stumbled over to inspect it. Spaghetti.

  He shouldn’t….But what was the point of being a dead corpse if he couldn’t use dead guy powers for good?

  It only took a little effort, Eddie successfully gagged and heaved until a warm that had been lurking in his stomach came out, dropping out of his mouth to wiggle around in Laura’s lunch. Eddie watched as it disappeared between the noodles and sauce, satisfaction filling him.

  Served the hag right.

  With justice served, Eddie made his way back upstairs to your room. He’d just made it to your doorway when he heard Laura return. He waited a few more moments for her to sit down, settle herself, twirl some spaghetti around her fork and put it in her mouth.

  Eddie was beginning to think the worm had made its way to the very bottom of the bowl when Laura let out a high pitched scream. 

  That one was for you.

  Eddie smirked and walked back into your room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  You had two classes for the day, back to back so as to not have to stay on campus longer than necessary, and both classes were pleasant. There hadn’t been any change in the materials covered or anything, eyes just kept attempting to discreetly take you in, which you caught from your peripheral vision. 

  While you enjoyed the new attention your attire and the way you carried yourself brought you, you quickly realized it wasn’t something you needed. What you needed was to feel good about yourself and for once in your life, you did. 

  You were absolutely giddy, and you felt so badass somehow, was this what Chrissy and her friends felt like all the time? Maybe putting effort into your appearance wasn’t just a load of crap dispelled onto ugly people by the conventionally attractive. 

  Regardless, you were strutting your way to the library, eager to turn in some books, make Steve Harrington’s jaw drop, then run back home to Eddie so you could thank him profusely for not having fugly taste.

  Once you made it to the library, you noticed no one was at the front desk. Steve must have been putting some books back on their shelves.

  No problem, more time to prepare yourself, maybe run through some possible conversations so you wouldn’t go stupid at the sight of his gorgeous face.

  Your bag hit the ground with a thud, thanks to the weight of the hardcovers within it and you bent down at the waist to rummage through it, placing one heavy hardcover book, two heavy hardcover books, three heavy hardco—

  “You got the rest of the library in there, Mary Poppins?”

  You snapped back up, whipping around just in time to see Steve’s gaze rise from where your ass had been unknowingly on display, to meet your eyes, his honey brown ones swirling with warmth.

  Oh, god. Just play it cool.

  “Just some tampons and some chips.” 

  Leave. Walk out. Save face.

  “No chocolate for that time of the month?” He asked, leaning up against the desk, rather than going around it to handle your returns. Steve wanted to talk to you. He’d been eyeing your ass and now he was making small talk. 

  You were going for it. 

  “Craving a different kind of sweet thing right now.” You leaned in, just as he had at the tailor’s yesterday. You were laying it on thick, sure. It worked though. Steve leaned in, too, and you clocked the tick of his eyebrow. Interest. Holy shit—things were finally looking up for you.

  “I’ve got some starbursts in my car,” Chrissy chirped, materializing out of thin air to stand in front of you and Steve. 

  You almost knocked down the books you’d stacked on the desk, cursing under your breath. “Geez, Chrissy.”

  “Hi.” She grinned at you, her darling crooked teeth gleaming before she was fixing Steve with a stern look, “Sorry, I need to talk to my sister. Preferably, alone.”

  “I’m not exactly gonna run to the gossip columns about anything.” He mused, exchanging an amused look with you but you couldn’t really hear anything going on around you because Steve Harrington was flashing you smiles around Chrissy, your pretty and practically perfect step-sister, and not her. You’d entered another dimension and you did not want to leave. All you could do was smile back at him, like some infatuated idiot while your fingers reached up to pick at your lower lip.

  “That may be so, but I think it’s best if she hangs around a good crowd.” Somehow, Chrissy had wedged herself between you and Steve, standing protectively in front of you with her arms crossed. She was about as intimidating as a pomeranian. Still, it was endearing to have someone act like they cared about you.

  “And the library is just full of Neanderthals, is that what you’re implying?” Steve leaned both elbows back on the desk, gesturing out to the few students—most meek in appearance—occupying the area.

  “I was thinking more of creepy librarians, high school peakers, and former playboys.” Chrissy shot back and you nudged her, hissing out her name. The protective thing was nice, just not when she was trying to scare away the man you’d be making your boyfriend.

  “Golden coming from you, of all people, your royal highness, the Queen of Hawkins High; former head cheerleader and Miss Hawkins of ‘87, but not ‘88 and I’m pretty sure Heather Holloway won again this year, so looks like we both don’t have a lot going on, do we?” Steve was smug, shooting you a wink that made your heart melt and drip down your sternum.

  Steam was practically blowing out of Chrissy’s ears, “Shoo fly, don’t bother us.” 

  Steve rolled his eyes before they fixed on you, past Chrissy’s head, “I’ll see you later okay? Thanks for bringing your books back on time.”

  You giggled, still staring at him as Chrissy began to tug you away, “Until the next time, I guess?”

  Steve held your stare, smirk softening into a smile, “I’ll be waiting.”

  It was easy for Chrissy to guide you out after that. You were floating. Light as a feather and high on life.

  “You are the only girl I know who can survive a spiked drink and still want to have anything to do with the guy.” Chrissy sighed in exasperation as the two of you loitered by the drinking fountain, “There’s like at least four other guys here who would date you, sissy! Don’t waste your time on that one.”

  Okay. Only four other guys? Ouch. “Steve didn’t spike it. Carol did.”

  “And she’s always following him around like some sad little mutt. Better to just stay away.”

  You scowled, mood souring. One afternoon. You couldn’t have just one afternoon where you felt good about yourself without someone bringing you down. You knew Chrissy meant well, but in that moment, she was pissing you off. 

  She seemed to pick up on the shift of your attitude, changing the subject, “After practice, I’m gonna go out tonight. Some of the girls want to go bowling and then have a little kick back. Cover for me?”

  How very much like Chrissy to insult you in the name of protectiveness, and then ask you for a favor. She still cared more about you than your own flesh and blood, so, “I thought your mom was gonna be away for a few days in Akron.”

  “She is, but daddy’s not. And he’s way too overprotective, I can’t even sneeze without him bursting into my room to ask me what’s wrong. He always wants to know where I’m going, argues with me when I try to go out late—it’s so annoying.”

  All you could think about were the many times you��d said goodbye to him as you left the house at whatever hour you wanted while he mumbled a bye and read whatever magazine he was reading or watched TV. 

  You tried to consider it a good thing that he let you be so independent, yet something in you ached, sure he simply didn't care enough for you. Not like he did Chrissy, and he’d known you longer, all your life. 

  “Oh. Uhm, I think he works late today, anyway. I’ll cover if he asks, but I’m sure you’re good.”

  Chrissy perked up, pulling you into a tight hug, “You are the best! I knew I was gonna love having you as a sister. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Chrissy didn’t wait for your reply, practically bouncing down the hallway and you sighed. 

  At least you’d have some peace and quiet, maybe you could get Eddie into better shape too, and you’d get to tell him about your day!

  With your classes done, you made your way to the parking lot, where Mystery waited for you. 

  You slid the back door of the Volkswagen open, tossing your bag in before sliding the door shut and climbing into the driver's seat of the bus. Then you started your mantras and manifestations, gripping the key with a sweaty palm before you were sticking it into the ignition and turning it with bated breath.

  She roared to life and you sagged back in your seat, bones like jelly knowing you piece of crap bus was still kicking.

  It was the biggest lemon of a car you’d ever seen, carried around jugs of coolant in the back because it had to be refilled almost every time you started it.

  But it was yours.

  When you pulled up to the house to see Laura’s car was gone, you felt yet another weight lifted off your shoulders. You were completely free to be you. Snatching your bag from the back, you made a run for your house, quickly unlocking the door before stampeding up the stairs. 

  You burst into your bedroom, chest heaving to find it in normal condition and no Eddie around. Frowning, you tossed your bag on the floor, beside your bed, and made your way over to the closet, yanking the doors open.

  Eddie peered up at you from his position on the floor, rocking an old feather boa of yours.

  “Eddie, I told you you were free to roam once Laura left. You don’t have to stay cramped in there all day when no one is around.” You offered him a hand and helped hoist him when you took it, “You wouldn’t believe the day I had—you’ve got stellar taste, by the way.”

  “Uuungh?”

  You reached under your bed, snatching an old Easter basket out that you used to hide your snacks. After you settled on the bed, you patted the spot next to you, and Eddie hobbled his way over, grunting as he settled onto the cushy comforter.

  “I know I was grumpy this morning. I’m sorry, you were right. The dress was a hit!” You exclaimed, ripping a bag of sour gummy worms open. The pink end was clenched between your teeth as you bit it off, bag of sweet and sour treats held out to Eddie as an offering.

  Eddie reached into the bag, attempting to crook his fingers enough to hook one. You watched the leathery skin between his brows pull—if you had blinked, you would have missed it—as he struggled to free his hand from the bag, shaking it a little until you pinched the bottom firmly, allowing him to pull it out.

  “Unngh.” He grunted in thanks. 

  As Eddie moved onto the challenge of getting the gummy worm to his mouth, you went back to telling him about your day, “I mean, god—all I did was put on a little dress and I felt kind of invincible. Not to mention Steve Harrington seemed to like it.”

  Eddie froze, gummy worm hanging out of his mouth, “Mm?”

  “Steve Harrington, did’ ya know him?” You asked, steamrolling right on as if you hadn’t, “Talk about winning the genetic pool—that man is so fine. We talked a little at that party I told you about, and before I did drugs, he was being so nice to me. And I didn’t look as hot as I do now, so I was hoping for a reaction out of him—BOY did I get it.”

  You let out a dreamy sigh, recalling the way Steve had leaned into your straightforward flirting.

  “He’s kind, funny, and sometimes he even has good book recommendations. He’s like the total package and I think he might actually like me.”

  You paused your ranting to look over at Eddie. If you didn’t already know his face was stuck like that, you would have thought he was scowling. 

  “You got a little…” Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, your thumb lifted the gummy worm hanging out of his mouth the rest of the way up. Eddie’s cracked lips parted, just enough for you to press the rest of it in, then he chewed slowly, face not even twitching to clue you in on his emotions. 

  “There.” Your hand dropped back into your lap as you perked up, “I wanna assume he’s better than the other horndogs who popped woodies just because I wore a dress and flashed some leg.”

  You stuck out your leg to demonstrate, the dress slipping even further up your thigh as you held it out, smooth (mostly, she was a little prickly but no one would notice unless they were stroking it) skin on display under some fishnet stockings.

  Eddie let out a pained sounding groan, which you figured meant he was agreeing with you about the rest of the male population. 

  “Yeah. Well, I think everything’s gonna work out perfectly. Even if Chrissy keeps butting into my love life like some fairy chastity-mother. God—I just, I’ve never been close to actually having something I wanted before, you know?”

  Eddie whined from behind closed lips, holding up the wrist that lacked his hand. 

  “What?” You asked, glancing down at the scarf wrapped around it. Eddie reached up with his fucked up fingers to point at where his ear should have been and it clicked for you, “Eddie, I can’t pull an extra hand and ear outta my ass. I wish I could, but I don’t have spare human parts lying around like pieces of a vacuum.”

  Eddie whined again and this time you could actually see his lips pulling down, frowning.

  “I told you I wish I could, but I can’t! I don't know how to get people parts and I don’t exactly have the black market on speed dial. Besides—you’re fine like this, I mean what are you able to do as walking dead guy anyways?”

  “MUUUUNGGGHHHH!” Eddie groaned, loud and obviously upset as he dramatically flung himself back on the bed hard enough to shake it.

  “Hey!” You snapped, fearful for your bed frame, “Chill out dude—don’t act all coked out!”

  He turned his head, face miserable but before you could continue your scolding, you heard your name called upstairs.

  Laura.

  “SHIT, hide!” Eddie stumbled up and barely even had the chance to turn around before you shoved him into your closet, shutting the doors.

  You’d barely stepped away when Laura burst into your room. She was dressed in her nurse uniform, complete with the stupid hat, yet there was something off with her. Her skin had a grayish tint to it, she looked clammy, eyes and nostrils red with irritation and her mascara was running. Laura Cunningham looked just as terrible on the outside as she was inside.

  And for once, she scared you.

  “Laura! I thought you were headed out of town for your trip.” Laura’s stare was even colder than you’d ever seen it, unnaturally icy blue eyes both vacant and filled with a deranged sort of rage. You expected her pupils to turn into slits any second, it would be the last physical trait she’d need to resemble a demon.

  Stepmother from hell, indeed.

  “Mmm, I’m sure you were looking forward to that,” Her voice was soft, almost gentle and nothing about it was kind. It was as if to coax you forward to her, lull you into a sense of ease before striking. You were reminded of the anglerfish, and the glow of their fin ray. They used it to draw unsuspecting prey towards the light before they were devoured. 

  You took a small step back. She took one forward.

  “I suppose I’ll just have to attend next year, I’ll be skipping the conference this year. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do much learning or networking with my head plastered in a toilet bowl. I seem to have come down with something. Do you know what my symptoms are?” She asked, voice so sugary sweet and thick. 

  “Uhm. I-I’ve been on my period. Maybe we synced?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

  Laura’s lips pressed into a thin, cruel smile, “No. I haven’t been throwing up with a cramping stomach because of my period. I’ve been vomiting non-stop because a little slut under my roof is trying to kill me. And do you know who that psychotic little tramp is?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth parting in shock. Did your stepmother just call you a slut?

  “ANSWER ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!” She bellowed, making you jump and gasp. You’d never heard Laura raise her voice like that, it dropped several octaves and she was staring at you with nothing but pure hatred burning in her eyes.

  All you could do was shake your head. You were terrified, but you weren’t about to play her game. You were neither a slut nor a tramp and it was clear, regardless of what you’d say or do, she’d be unleashing her wrath upon you.

  Laura chuckled without humor, “You really are just a stupid, insignificant bitch, aren’t you? I open up my home to you and you do nothing but cause trouble every time I so much as turn my head. I have been nothing but kind to you, even after you wrecked my home. I’ve been an angel. But putting worms in my food?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I didn’t touch your food, I just got home from classes. An—And I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t ask to move here.” You could see tears beginning to blur your vision, welling up and threatening to cascade over your lower lashes. They didn’t. You refused to cry in front of her. Refused to give her that satisfaction. 

  “Oh, please.” Laura scoffed, looking at you in bewilderment, “Did you want to stay in the house where your mother was sliced and diced? Was that a comfort for you?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant, I didn't want to start my life over in some town full of ignorant people.” You gritted out, hand clenching the bag of gummy worms.

  “Ignorant people, and yet—you still don’t fit it in. Telling isn’t it?”

  Despite your fear, you felt your own rage starting to build within you and before you could stop yourself, you spat out “What do you care? You never wanted me here. You just wanted my dad here in your clutches and you knew that wouldn’t happen if we hadn’t moved. He would have never chosen you over my mom.”

  Laura sneered, “It’s not much of a choice when she’s rotting in some coffin, six feet under, is it? I’m sure she’s relieved to be done with you and all the disgusting things you do for attention.”

  “Shut up!” You demanded, seething now as the devil incarnate dared to speak about your mother in such a disrespectful manner. Laura was only able to sleep in a bed alongside your father—wear that tacky ring on her finger because your mother had tragically lost her life. 

  Laura wouldn’t be but a mosquito in the room if your mother were alive.

  You hadn’t been expecting the strike that came next, hadn’t been prepared for Laura to pull her arm back and swing it forward, cracking your cheek so hard you almost spun. You yelped, hand reaching up to press against the skin of your cheek, feeling it throb and sting under your touch.

  She fucking hit you. You gaped at her in disbelief and Laura didn’t look remotely apologetic.

  “I am beyond tired of you and I am not going to wait until some maniac guts me to be rid of you. Especially when you’re already a threat to my life. No. I won’t stand for it, so I took it upon myself to begin your admittance to Hawkins National Psychiatric Center.

  Your blood ran cold as images of the unsettling ‘center’ flooded your mind. You’d heard of it before, horror stories told amongst your peers. A psych ward. And Laura Cunningham was going to have you committed. 

  “No, please. No.” You whispered, voice laced with fear.

  “It’s for the good of everyone,” Laura began, leering over you. “You don’t belong here. Your place is locked up, solitary confinement where no one will have to see you ever aga—

  THUNK.

  Laura let out the smallest of gasps.

  You watched the unsettling blue of her eyes give away to whites and red veins as they rolled to the back of her head, her body going limp as she tipped forward and fell face first to the ground. Your mouth dropped open as you watched her collapse, gurgling and twitching on the ground for just a few seconds before she went still. Then your gaze flitted to Eddie, who stood tall with your old sewing machine clutched in his hand, a corner stained red. 

  Your eyes flashed back down to Laura, and they widened in size when the pink of your carpet began to turn a bright red, blood seeping out of her skull to pool around her head and soak into the floor.

  Eddie made a grunt that sounded more so like a noise of satisfaction and tossed the sewing machine back into the closet. 

  You heard them before you saw them. Eddie had found the small pair of scissors included with your sewing machine and clipped them in the air before he bent down. You could only watch, stunned silent and with morbid curiosity as Eddie snipped your stepmother’s ear off.

  “Oh, god…” You finally found your voice, eyes darting anywhere else to avoid seeing the skin severed. You breathing became labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as you staved off a panic attack while your undead friend cut the ear from Laura’s dead body.

  Eddie held it up in triumph, like it was some sort of medal rather than a human ear.

  “Wha─? Why─?” You couldn’t even finish a sentence and Eddie must have noticed how distraught you were. He rose from the floor, stepping over Laura’s body to pull you into his arms and despite what had just occurred, you returned the embrace; arm slipping under his to clutch at the back of his shoulder, desperate for the comfort he was offering. His hand rubbed circles over your back and you leaned your cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, stare never once leaving Laura’s body as you whimpered.

  When he pulled back—just enough to be able to look at your face—he held the ear up, towards you.

  You knew exactly what he was asking you to do.

  ”Eddie…I—I can’t. I can’t do that…We have to bury the body first.” You placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him again as you both turned your heads to stare at someone who was no longer a problem for you. For the first time, in a very long time, you felt safe.

  Eddie had rescued you.

Moving the body was surprisingly easy. You’d expected Eddie’s limbs to be fragile for some reason, a foolish thought considering he’d so easily crashed through your window that first night. Eddie actually possessed a great deal of strength, easily lifting Laura’s body—wrapped in sheets—and carrying her downstairs. 

  Movement seemed to be getting easier for him, limbs that had been out of use for years returning to life and unstiffening just as he had. If his arms could support Laura’s body with no problem, you wondered what had happened to his missing hand in the first place.

  You made sure the coast was clear before you pulled your bus up the driveway and Eddie placed the body in the back. It obviously hadn’t been strapped down, so while you drove to the cemetery, Laura’s body was rolling around, banging against the sides of the Volkswagen. Eddie just turned up the music you’d been playing.

  The cemetery was vacant, thanks to the relatively early time of the day. Most people still hadn’t gotten off of work yet, which made this easy for you and Eddie. It wasn’t the most respectful thing to do—you were just out of options. A grave had already been dug out, for some poor recently deceased soul (not Laura, she could go to hell), so, the two of you had quite literally dumped Laura’s body into the empty hole and covered her with a layer of dirt so she’d go unnoticed when they’d lower the coffin, of whoever’s grave this was, into it. 

  After the deed was done, the two of you stood side-by-side, staring into it. 

  “Is death comforting?” You asked, breaking the silence. Eddie didn’t answer, didn’t even grunt, so you turned your head to the side to find him already staring at you. 

  He shook his head. 

  “Good. C’mon.” You gave the burial plot, now and forever housing Laura, an extremely and aggressively disrespectful finger, and tugged Eddie back to the bus. He went willingly after kicking some more dirt into it.

  When the two of you returned home—after you briefly stopped for ice cream while Eddie waited in the bus—you’d gotten straight to work; Eddie’s head in your lap as you sewed the ear into place.

  While you threaded the needle through the skin, Eddie waited patiently, thumb playing with your fishnets. Once you knotted the string and used your teeth to nip off the excess, you admired your work. 

  Good stitching, secure and it wouldn’t fall off. The coloring was a bit odd, skin appearing obviously more lively than Eddie’s dull gray-green tint. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Done.” You announced, hands resting on the mattress at your sides. Slowly, Eddie rose to a sitting position, head shifting around to face you, “What’s the survey say? Ear any good? Hear anything?”

  Those big, deep brown, baby cow eyes of his looked despondent as he shook his head. 

  “Mm-mm.”

  You sighed, feeling a bit despondent yourself. He’d saved you from a life of medicated compliance and padded walls, and you couldn’t even get the human ear you’d stitched to the side of his head to work. You felt guilty knowing you couldn’t make him whole again, as he so desperately wanted to be. Couldn’t be his blue fairy.

  You reached your fingers up, tips brushing alongside the soft outer edge of his ear. How funny that an appendage that had once belonged to the nastiest person you’d ever encountered, a woman who hated your very existence, was now endearing because it was a part of the guy before you. Your friend. Your protector. What had taken place that afternoon would no doubt lead to trouble, but you knew Eddie hadn’t acted out of malice. 

  He’d simply wanted to help you. And—okay, yes, he got an ear out of it, but it didn’t work. What mattered is that you weren’t alone anymore. You had someone that actually cared about you. Enough to kill for you, even. 

  It felt…like you mattered to someone.

  “I’m sorry.” You mumbled in disappointment, “I really did think it was gonna work, too. Guess Laura’s still useless, even when she’s dead.”

  Your hand dropped back into your lap as the two of you simultaneously heaved out sighs. 

  “At least you have something there, you know?” You tried to see the positive side, keep Eddie happy, “Like nipples with boob jobs. The dial doesn’t work but you can still turn the knob.” 

  He made a humming sound, contemplating the analogy, weighing it as his head tilted this way and that way. 

  “Maybe it’ll catch up with you later, like the rest of your body. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting better at moving around.” You teased, nudging your shoulder playfully against his.

  Eddie stiffened and you thought you might have offended him, “I mean—I’m not paying super duper close attention or anything, I just like to watch you—It’s not like I see a living dead guy every day.”

  “Unngh.” Eddie seemed to pay no attention to your word vomiting, pointing at a sharpie on your nightstand. 

  “What? This?” You reached over and snagged it, offering it to him. He carefully took it from your hands, his hardened fingers brushing over your soft ones, and awkwardly popped the cap off with his thumb. 

  Your eyebrows shot up as Eddie began doodling on the skin of your hand near your thumb and index finger. 

  “Why did I think you were illiterate?” You mused aloud and Eddie briefly stopped to glare at you and grunted, unamused, “You can’t blame me, you could have picked up a pen and paper this entire time, hell—I have an Etch A Sketch you could have been using instead of making me decipher your ‘uuunnngghhss’.” You did your best impression of his zombie grunting and he put the sharpie between his thighs so he could flick the cap at you. 

  Like an expert dodger, you lifted your hand just in time for it to bounce off your palm as you giggled and he went back to finishing up his little doodle. 

  A lightning bolt. 

  Your lips pulled into a soft smile as you admired it, something warm pooling in your belly. It was cute and there was something very attractive to you about walking around with Eddie’s little sketch on you.

  An Eddie Was Here, if you will.

  And then it hit you. Lightning.

  “OH.”

  Eddie grunted, pleased that you’d picked up on what he was trying to convey.

  “But how are we gonna…” You trailed off, brows furrowing as a montage of the two of you played in your head; sticking a metal rod in the ground with Eddie holding onto it as you waited for some approaching storm to electrocute him. The only problem was the weather forecast for the week predicted nothing but sunshine and clear, starry nights. No electrocution for the week. Unless…. “Oh my god.”

  You turned to Eddie, grinning almost maniacally, “I’m a genius.”

  Forty minutes later, you found yourself staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror Chrissy had set up inside the tan shack. It was softly aglow with pink and warm hued fairy lights, and neon blue coming from the tanning bed. One of her beauty pageant crowns was placed on your head, and you had to admit, it did make you feel pretty. It looked good on you, too. Huh. Maybe you should have done pageants, could have won one, even.

  Sparks flew from the tanning bed, some feet away, with Eddie inside of it. 

  It was the next best thing to actually being struck by lightning. Well, it was either the tanning bed or electrocuting him in the small pool with a plugged in radio, but you didn’t want to get wet.

  You grabbed a little fairy wand, no doubt part of one of Chrissy’s pageant costumes—probably Galinda—and posed with it, pleased with your reflection. Your hair was frizzy and it somehow added to your allure. 

  You could rock with this confidence thing for a while if it made you not hate yourself like usual. 

  The tanning bed’s buzzing whirled down until it was silent, save for a few random sparks, and the bed opened up, top lifting to reveal Eddie laying in a cloud of smoke, wearing those little goggles you’d insisted on to protect those pretty eyes of his.

  You got up to check on him, tapping his chest with the end of the wand, “You baked enough?”

  He groaned as he sat up and dinged his head on the top of the tanning bed and you flinched, dropping the wand.

  “Ooh, yeah, I’ve been there too.”

  Grabbing onto his hand, you helped pull him out of the tanning bed to sit on the edge and sat beside him, pushing the goggles up his large forehead and pinning away his bangs.

  Eddie didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly. He was baked alright, that voltage was no joke.

  “Eddie,” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Can you hear me in there?”

  No reaction. 

  “EDDIE MUNSON, CAN YOU HEAR ANYTHING I AM SAYING?!”

  To your amazement, Eddie flinched away from your shrieking, and with his face turned to you, you noticed he looked different, skin more…skin like. Not the leather you’d noticed before. He still hadn’t answered you, so you kept going, “IS THAT A YES—YEAH?”

  Eddie groaned out, face affronted as you continued to scream at him and your shrieking turned into screams of excitement. Eddie joined you in yelling (well, he tried, it was very loud groaning) when it dawned on him.

  It worked. Eddie Munsons had two working ears.

  “Oh my god!” You flung yourself at him and immediately jolted away when you got shocked. Eddie reached out for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, “No, it’s okay, that was on me. I got too excited, but oh my god! Eddie! It worked! We got you a working ear!” 

  You were beaming, felt like you’d cracked the secret of life. And it looked like Eddie was trying to smile at you, corners of his lips pulled up just a tad. 

  The two of you looked ridiculous, you with your frizzy hair, crown and fairy wand, and Eddie with his electrocuted hairdo, tanning goggles making his bangs look insane and a slightly discolored (actually, it was looking more like his skin tone now, bizarre) ear, with one earring and one hand.

  You glanced down at your arm; specifically, at Eddie’s arm resting against it. The one that lacked a hand.

  Well, you’d already started. 

  “I think I know someone who can give you a hand.”

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Freak like me #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein inspo #Zombie!eddie munson #dead!eddie munson #undead!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #Steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x black!reader

[bothoutsiders]

ok so you know the hero gets kidnapped and no one comes and the villain gets pissed on their captive’s behalf and treats them better than their former associates did trope ?

i need that with early red hood jason and robin tim

jason steals tim expecting the calvary to come racing in

but ,,, no one comes

and ok jason can understand why timbit's little baby hero team didn't come

superboy, wonder girl and impulse are all currently off planet

but the batfam isn't

the girls are in hong kong for whatever reason but dick and bruce are across town from where him and tim are

he's had tim for over a week they have to have realized that he's missing at this point

and now jason's like "actually fuck them i'm keeping you"

hello anon! thank you for your request. i think it came a bit small; first jaytim thing i type with my new keyboard B) but it was fun. it's a bit domestic tho, hope you enjoy :)

--

It has been a little over a week since Robin got here. 

It somehow felt like those parents who forgot to pick up their kids at school. Robin had been at the mercy of Red Hood for a week and a few days and there was no sign of anyone coming to rescue him anytime soon.

Jason even went through his notes, every piece of information he had, and his own plan. Many times.

Something didn’t click.

When he kidnapped Robin, he knew Batman would come for him. Knew there would be a big fight, some spilled blood and maybe broken bones. He then would be able to torture Robin in front of Bruce and make him beg, maybe even cry. Satiate his own thirst for vengeance with Bruce’s suffering.

But nothing like that happened.

Robin’s friends were not around and Jason knew that. It was excusable but… What was the explanation for Batman to ignore this? Was he trying to play some kind of sick game with his mind or did he actually not care about Tim?

He didn’t even send Nightwing either. There was no Justice League. There was nobody.

No one.

What was the point of torturing or doing something to Robin if Bruce wasn’t here to witness it?

“Do you have golden grahams?”

Jason turned to look at the teen and thought about what was happening. There was no way Bruce hadn’t realised his new Robin was missing. Nor that Jason had kidnapped him and now was even feeding him.

“No, but I can buy some later.” He said as he placed a windowed box on the table and pushed it toward Tim slowly. “I got you donuts though.”

“Oh?” Robin looked at the box, interested when he had heard it was donuts. Right now he was wearing Jason’s clothes and had come out from a nice shower. “They’re from  Holesome Dough! Great!”

Jason watched him devour one after another while he thought about the situation. He was definitely not imagining things. It was happening.

He looked down and noticed Tim’s bare feet, some drops of his wet hair making a mess around. “I’ve told you to wear shoes and to dry your hair properly. I’m not going to clean that.”

Tim looked down for a few moments before he’d go and sit down in a chair, enjoying his snack.

Stupid Batman was ignoring his own Robin, who was definitely in danger. If Jason were completely fucked up, right now he would have had Tim’s head on display and probably had sent some parts of his body to Bruce, just as a silly joke.

Bruce knew where he was and didn’t even care!

He didn’t care.

Jason rubbed his eyes, tired and frustrated. “I’m not really surprised. Just disappointed.”

“About what?” Tim turned to look at him, a crumb on his upper lip. “Oh. I’ll dry my hair after this. You want some?” He offered him the donut he was eating since it was the last one.

“He’s not coming, is he?” This felt so familiar.

“Bruce?” Tim shrugged. “He might think I have it under control.”

“Replacement, I beat you up. You passed out as you bled when I took you with me. If you were able to handle it, you would’ve contacted him. He didn’t even call you. What’s his excuse?” He snorted and took a seat. “He’s across town, yeah, Gotham is big but not that big that he can’t come to rescue his sidekick.”

Of course it pissed him off. Days prior Jason had gone to check if Batman was around, to make sure he wasn’t out of Gotham doing something else that stopped him from coming to rescue his young, new soldier. The worst of all this? Batman was in Gotham.

It made Jason furious.

This Robin could have the same ending as he did, history would repeat and Bruce didn’t give a fuck about it. It didn’t seem as if Batman wanted a Robin, at least not one to last.

He just can’t be responsible like a proper adult, maybe that’s why he doesn’t have children or pets. Maybe this is why he doesn’t have a family.

He snorted, so close to pulling from his own hair. If someone has a sidekick, they teach them, they protect them. Where was Batman when he was needed? With how things went, Jason suspected that Bruce decided to give Tim to him. As those who throw meat to wild dogs, to keep them busy, keep them away.

“Fuck it. Fuck Bruce, fuck Dick, fuck everyone, I’m keeping you.”

#JayTim #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #w: story #request

[yuellii]

could i request neuvillette with gn reader who is afraid of drowning and can't swim, so he provides swimming lessons?

sunshine poured naturally dazzling today, not a single cloud in the sky. perhaps that was your sign that darling neuvillette was having a good day today.

well, on the contrary, you were not. you almost wished he was not having so-jolly of a day just to dim the sun with rain clouds, for the sunlight intensity was only worsening your headache. a headache which was caused by the lack of oxygen in your lungs—from swimming all day.

“when you go into a bug-position underwater, hold your breath for ten seconds, and blow out bubbles,” he instructed firmly, holding your waist as you both stood hip-deep into the water. “this will teach you how to float.

you gave him the slightest of pouts. “you’ll bring me back up if i drown, right?”

“i would never let you drown.” you couldn’t tell from his facial expressions if he meant it in an endearing way or a purely offended one. “just hold your legs to your chest, and blow out bubbles—trust the water, okay?”

you took a deep breath. he looked radiant in the sunlight, you realized. sure, maybe it was the banging headache that was making your vision hazy; but somehow, the chief justice looked a little livelier in the water like this. him, with his full-body diving suit as an attire you’d never expect to see him in before.

perhaps this was a fun little treat to your eyes, but all at the price of the sinking feeling of drowning in fontaine’s waters. but how could he refuse you, when you admitted you had no idea how to swim?

“aaand go.”

okay, you may need to teach him a few more pointers on how to read human expressions, because you were pretty sure that your face made no indication that you were ready to be let go and pushed down. he was very knowledgeable on how to swim, sure, but he was definitely not educated on how to be a teacher.

and so, you immediately panicked, flopping around to bring your knees to your chest as your head filled with the sudden fear of drowning once more. and once you got into the fetal position he told you to, you lost control of your body and found yourself wading up to the surface.

you broke out in short-breathed coughs as neuvillette attempted to stabilize your body atop the water, offering his own chest for you to lean on as you caught your breath. oh, this was so embarrassing. you thanked the heavens he was so nice.

“i couldn’t do it,” you coughed out water. “you saw me try it exactly as you told me to.”

he frowns just the slightest bit. “but it works when i do it…”

you deadpan just a little bit. of course it doesn’t make him panic when he was already used to the water. but you suppose he can’t quite discern your very-humanly emotion of fear for an ocean. “i think that’s enough for me today,” you sighed onto his chest, cold from the fabric of the diving suit. his arms still had a protective hold around you, tho you were barely in the water at all. “i already gained a massive headache.”

he hummed shortly in response. you couldn’t tell if it was a yes or a no, but you think you’ve come to learn it was just his way of saying he was thinking.

and only a minute later, he was guiding you by the shoulders to the shore, holding them so protectively as if these shallow waves could drown you in seconds.

( but, who could blame him, when you were panicking over water only a meter high just a moment ago? )

“i’ve already brought lots of water for you to drink to ease that headache of yours,” he said once he helped dry you off with a towel. his hands were gentle as he circled the cloth against your hair. “and probably take you out to get some pastries, too.”

ah, you loved such a gentleman. you only hoped he could be a better swimming instructor, too.

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines

[whaledenwtf]

I'm such a sucker for Gale, and I want some fluff about him, maybe like what happened after or during the wedding, what would it look like? Like what would our man do

I'm such a sucker for Gale too, he's just baby. I'm not too familiar with Act 3 and the new epilogues they added but I'll do my baby justice. I'll be writing this with a female reader, so if you'd like GN! Reader I can try rewriting it.

As always, I try to keep Gale in character as much as possible. If you enjoy this fic, consider sharing it! I have requests open, which you can send here: Link I have a Masterlist for Baldur's Gate 3 works I've written, which also has a list of what I will and won't write here: Link

Gale x AFAB!Reader - Wedding Bells

Warnings: AFAB!Reader, Fluff, Mentions of Anxiety, Self-Deprecation (Poor Gale), Mentions of Mystra (Mystra when I catch you Mystra), Minor Angst if you squint.

WORD COUNT: 869

Gods he was so nervous. He kept pacing back and forth, subconsciously playing with his hands.

"Are you having regrets Mr. Dekarios?" He is snapped out of his reverie by Tara, who's watching him from a distance.

"Regrets? I could never regret my relationship with (Y/N), Tara. I am just... nervous. I don't want her to change her mind, is all." He tells her honestly. Tara struts closer to him, tail swaying behind her.

"I believe you are overthinking, Mr. Dekarios. After all, don't you think she would have changed her mind before the wedding day?" He ponders that for a moment.

"I suppose you may be right, Tara. However, I've come to realize there is no such luck for a fool like me. She may have changed her mind and is running out now-" To emphasize his point, he looks out the window to see if there is a runaway bride. He exhales in relief when he doesn't see you running off. Tara scoffs.

"Are you sure you won't be the one who runs out? Show some self-respect Mr. Dekarios. You are incredibly talented and a good friend. She loves you, in case you had forgotten." Tara sits, her wings twitching.

He looks away from the window, only seeing the wedding party seated in the rows and rows of seats, alongside your companions who were interacting with one another. The door opens, and Gale's mother walks in.

"Oh thank Mystra! My little boy is getting married- I was starting to get worried." Morena wails out, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Gale rolls his eyes.

"Have you so little faith in me, mother?" She huffs, squinting at him.

"You were a recluse, Gale. A mother tends to worry when her son is aging without another by their side. I just want you happy." She tells him. He looks down, feeling guilty for worrying his mother.

"I am sorry-" Morena shakes her head.

"All is in the past now-" She claps her hands. She walks closer, giving him a once over, brushing non-existent dust off his shoulders. "I am very proud of you." She tells him quietly. He grips her in a tight hug, like a child would when they were scared. She caresses his back comfortingly, and he is filled with a sense of calmness. All his previous fears and anxieties dissipate. The door opens again. Morena lets go of Gale, giving him some space.

"Just coming in to check in. Am I disturbing something?" Gale hears your voice. Before he can take a glimpse at you, he turns around, eyes screwed shut.

"It is bad luck to see the bride before the aisle!" He shouts out. All the women giggle at him. You begin walking forward, smiling at Morena and Tara.

"We will leave you two alone. Come, Tara." They leave, closing the door behind them.

"Turn around, sweetheart. Who needs luck or gods, when we have each other?" You tell him, standing behind him. He sighs, turning around, eyes still screwed shut. You chuckle, taking his face in your hand.

"Open your eyes, Gale." He opens one eye, and his jaw drops. You were stunning; probably the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes upon.

"Oh-" He opens both eyes, to look you up and down, multiple times.

"You're beautiful." He whispers, eyes watering. It never felt so real until this moment, seeing you devote yourself to him. You wipe the single tear that leaves his misty eyes. He blinks multiple times, willing himself not to cry.

"You don't look too bad yourself." You tease him, grinning.

"I wanted to check on you, see if you had changed your mind?" He looks into your eyes, seeing your honesty.

"Why would I change my mind?" You shrug.

"We don't need fancy ceremonies or gold rings to show our love to one another. All I need is you by my side." He takes your hand, kissing it.

"I can never regret anything I do if it involves you, my love." You giggle at his words.

"How are you feeling?" You ask him sweetly. He bites his lip.

"I am- was very nervous. For a moment I thought you would want to cancel the wedding." You shake your head.

"I love you, Gale. I'm not going anywhere. The tadpole couldn't keep us apart; nor the Netherese Orb; and definitely not some goddess." You end the sentence bitterly. He chuckles, putting his arms around you, kissing your forehead.

"We can do this, together." He says out loud.

"Together." You whisper, leaning into his neck and kissing him there.

BONUS: You close the door behind you, leaving Gale to his thoughts. You turn to see Astarion and Wyll waiting for you. You jump, holding a hand to your heart as they scared you.

"Gods! Don't sneak up on me like that." They both chuckle.

"Did he cry?" Astarion asks excitedly. You chuckle, nodding.

"HA! Pay up Ravengard." Wyll sighs, handing over a pouch of gold to Astarion.

"I knew that sap would cry. Shouldn't have bet against me." Wyll rolls his eye.

"Alright Astarion." Wyll tells him. You smile at the two, before pulling them away from the door.

#fanfic #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #gale x reader #baldurs gate gale #gale bg3 #fluff #request

[ladykailitha]

Love is Loving the Person For Who They Are

Heeyyyy...so after my rant, I pulled out this quick little one one-shot based on those feelings I had earlier. It’s not quite idea @xenon-demon had in their tags as that would be a full fic’s worth and I have so many WIPs running right now, so I don’t have time to do the full idea justice, but I hope this conveys my thoughts well enough.

***

Eddie walked into a disaster. He wasn’t even sure what was going if he was honest.

Steve’s clothes were strewn all over his room, with him sitting dejected on his bed in a black t-shirt, black acid washed jeans, and his white Nike’s.

Running around the room was Dustin, Nancy, and Robin all arguing on the top of their lungs what Steve should wear.

“Hey, guys,” Eddie greeted them a lilt of confusion coloring his tone. “Wha’cha doing?”

The screaming match stopped and everyone turned to look at him in shock.

“Shit!” Nancy said. “Is it already that late?” She glanced at her watch. “Shit.”

“This is why you should have called us sooner,” Dustin said, rounding on Steve. “We would have been able to find you something acceptable before it was too late.”

“But I didn’t–” Steve protested.

“So we’re agreed,” Robin said interrupting, “the black slacks and jacket no shirt?”

But that only started the fight all over again.

Eddie tilted his head. “What’s wrong with what he’s currently wearing?”

Steve’s jaw dropped as everyone else turned to Eddie with such lightning speed that he was sure that they were going to get whiplash.

“It’s just normal,” Dustin said, smugly. “It’s not metal.”

“We don’t want him standing out,” Robin said. “He could get hurt.”

“Only,” Nancy said, glaring at Steve like it was all his fault, “he doesn’t have anything close to what you would wear.”

“Black jeans and band t-shirt?” Eddie asked confused. “I mean, yeah, he doesn’t have a Metallica or Dio shirt, but his shirt is what anyone else would wear to their first metal concert.”

“What?” Robin said, dumbly.

“No it isn’t,” Dustin said with a sneer. “When I went to my first concert I had all the right clothes and shit.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Who took you to a metal concert?”

Dustin shrugged. “That is not what is important here. I had a master teach me the ways before I went.”

Eddie tucked his chin to his chest. “Okay...I’m still not seeing how black jeans and t-shirt aren’t metal, though.”

Steve had been staring up at Eddie this whole time like he had hung the moon. He finally spoke. “I based my outfit off what Eddie wears all the time.”

Eddie beamed at him. “And you look amazing, Stevie. Now, I would have liked to have seen you in that tight navy blue polo personally. But needs must, I suppose.”

“His what?” Nancy asked, her eyes wide.

Eddie pursed his lips and began rooting around in the stacks of clothes. After a few moments he abruptly stood up. “Tada!”

Nancy and Robin looked at each other in shock.

“But that’s shirt he was wearing when Max gave us her letters,” Dustin said in confusion.

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, he looks hot in it.”

Steve blushed. “We should probably get going.”

Eddie nodded. “Come on, then.”

As the reached the bottom of the stairs the two men heard Robin exclaim, “Hey, did Eddie take the polo with him?!”

Steve looked over at Eddie, who sure enough still had the shirt.

“Oh,” he said, quietly. “If you forgot to put it back before we left you can just leave it on the side table by the front door. I’ll put it back when I get home.”

Eddie just smiled fondly as he sailed out the front door and to his van. He held the door open for Steve and Steve slid in. Eddie tossed him the shirt.

“I’ll leave up to you, darlin’,” he said, climbing into the driver’s side of the van, “which shirt you want to wear, but just know this: you don’t have to change your style for anyone. Least of all me. Because what our friends fail to realize is that I fell in love with the polo wearing prep Stevie. That’s the one I thought was taking out tonight.”

Steve rubbed the polo shirt between his two thumbs. “You mean that?”

Eddie leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Sure do, sweetheart. But I’ll get if you want to wear the t-shirt to the concert. But just so we’re clear on this, don’t think you have to change to fit me. Any part of me. If you start liking the same music I do, great! Just another thing we have in common. Just like when I said I enjoyed going to that baseball game with you.”

Steve blinked. “I thought you were bored.”

Eddie laughed. “I’m pretty sure that seventh inning stretch is for all the fans and not just newbies like me.”

Steve smiled for the first time since Eddie came to pick him up. “Fair enough, but you had fun?”

Eddie nodded, pulling out of the driveway. “Sure did. I can’t watch it on that terrible black and white TV that Uncle Wayne has, but going out and being with the other fans? That was fun.”

Steve’s smile grew bigger. “Just wait until you go to hockey match.”

Eddie’s face lit up with a feral grin. “I like the way you think, babe.”

Steve shucked off his t-shirt and pulled on the polo. Eddie glanced over at him, a fond smile on his face.

***

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#My writing #stranger things #steddie #steve is perfect the way he is #ladykailtiha writes

[cozage]

HIII CONGRATS ON 2k!!!

Your writing is amazing and you totally deserve all these followers <3

Could you maybe write a scenario modern scenario where you and Zoro go to the same gym, and eventually he starts to notice you and crush on you a little :0

Tysm<33333

A/N: Modern AU is new for me so I hope I did it justice :) 

Characters: gn reader x Zoro Total word count: 750

Gym Routine

Zoro tried to mind his own business in the gym. He threw on his headphones and had his own routine. He never made small talk with people while waiting for a machine, he never bothered anyone and he didn’t want to be bothered. He didn’t really care about the other people who were in the gym with him. 

But this was the fifth day he had seen you, and he couldn’t help but notice the two of you had almost the exact same routine. Which led to you both waiting for each other a lot. 

He didn’t necessarily care, but you seemed to always watch the person on the machine while you waited. You almost went through the motions with them, as if you were perfecting your form along with them. 

Which didn’t make any sense. You had perfect form. He had been watching you out of the corner of his eye. 

And you were doing it now, watching the guy on the rowing machine as you waited your turn. Zoro would’ve been intimidated, if he hadn’t found you so amusing. 

“You can go,” the man said. He had gotten in line first, but only by a few seconds. And he didn’t want to have you watching him while he did his sets. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed, looking back and forth between the green-haired man and the machine. “No, go ahead. You were here first.”

“It’s fine. Go.”

You hesitated for a moment, but decided to take him up on his offer. It was your last set before you got to go home, and you were eager to lay on the couch and finally relax. 

You did your reps and quickly jumped back off, gathering your stuff to head to the locker room.

“Do you come on the weekends?” the man asked you. 

“Huh?” You turned back to look at him. “Oh, no. I just come in after work. I take a break on the weekends.”

The man nodded. “Me too. Name’s Zoro. See you Monday.”

You gave him a polite smile. “See you Monday.”

He wasn’t sure why his heart was beating so hard. Fridays were his easy days, and yet he felt a little nauseous from his routine. 

On Monday, he found himself equally nervous and excited about going to the gym. Once he got there, he was a little less focused on his workout and a little more focused on his surroundings.

“Zoro!” you called, waving to him. “I’ve been thinking about this all weekend. It has been haunting me!” You held your hand out. “I’m Y/N.”

He had also realized over the weekend that he didn’t know your name. Though, he only realized it because he was going to try and find your social media and see what kind of a person you were. Not for any reason in particular. He was just…curious.

He took your hand and gave it a firm shake. “Do you mind spotting me on this?”

You smiled back. “Not at all.”

By the end of the week, the two of you had become gym buddies. You all didn’t talk much, but you had exchanged phone numbers and gym routines so that you could sync up with each other every day and be each other’s spotters when needed.

Zoro shouldered his bag, the two of you getting ready to walk out the door together. “I was thinking-”

You crinkled your nose. “That’s dangerous.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Shut up.”

You snickered at his reaction, but quickly pulled yourself back together. “Okay, okay. You were thinking?”

He gave a hard swallow, trying to muster up his confidence again. “Dinner?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me and you?”

Zoro shrugged, as if the idea was just now occurring to him. “There’s this nice restaurant, if you want to go.”

You looked down at your attire. You were in baggy shorts and a tank top, and you probably reeked of sweat. “This doesn’t exactly scream nice restaurant.”

“Not right now!” He slapped his hand against his forehead, and you resisted the urge to laugh again. You certainly weren’t making this easy for him. 

“Pick me up at seven?” you asked, your eyes lighting up. “I’ll text you my address.”

Zoro finally gave a small smile of relief and nodded. “I look forward to it.”

“Me too.”

You practically danced the whole way home. 

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #cozage #✧˚zoro✧˚

[avisisisis]

DC headcanons but you can tell who's my favorite

For some reason Wally cries everytime he eats chicken nuggets with the Titans

Not even Wally knows why this happens

It's only with the original Titans. No one else. They have a rule that says Wally isn't allowed to eat chicken nuggets when he's around them because they all hate to see him cry

Iris sleeptalks. Barry sometimes has full conversations that make no sense with her at four in the morning

Hal has a video that lasts 40 minutes saved on every single piece of technology he has. It's about Iris (who was asleep) and Barry (very much awake, but probably delusional) arguing about whether koalas are evil or not

Tim had a Tumblr blog where he posted photos of Batman and Robin that looked like they were taken from very close angles

Jason follows it. One time he was complaining that his favorite blog hadn't posted anything in years. When Tim asked him to show him what account it was, he panicked, tried to run away, hit his head and passed out from exhaustion

Jason is still confused about that, but no matter how much he insists, Tim refuses to give his secret away

Wally has a deep hatred for Dora the Explorer

The Young Justice once ran away to a different country for a whole month and refused to acknowledge it when they came back

Iris, Barry and Hal are all dating. Barry didn't realize it at first though (Hal didn't either)

Barry was really panicking over the fact that he seemed to be in love with his best friend when he's already married

Hal was really panicking over the fact that he was in love with his best friend who is already married

Iris thought they were all just poly. They had a very long conversation after she realized none of them knew about polyamorous relationships

Wally and Dick, even though they both have their own romantic partners, are soulmates in every universe (can be seen as romantic or platonic)

Wally once got both him and Dick (as Flash and Nightwing) banned from a cafe. Dick wasn't even there

He accidentally knocked a candle and burned the table down

But what actually got them banned was commenting to the very homophobic owner that “I don't have a major opinion on that Nightwing guy besides of the fact that he gives some really good blowjobs” (they never even fucked)

In Wally's defense, he was really unstable at the moment, and he panicked

Of course, people filmed it. And, of course, it went viral. Now all of his friends quote him on that all the time

Technically they're not banned anymore because the cafe's owner changed, but he's still too embarrassed to go so he ignores that

All speedsters are constantly vibrating, some being more obvious than others, due to the fact that being still is... really fucking difficult because of everything being slower for them

Bart's the most noticeable one. If you pay enough attention you'll notice that you can sometimes see a little bit of lightning coming out of his body

The vibrations causes them to do a low rumbling sound that isn't exactly snoring when they're sleeping. What I'm saying is that they purr

Linda was thrilled when she found out

None of the speedsters are aware of this and no one plans on telling them

One time the YJ were talking and Bart interrupted them so Tim turned around to face him and said “Cerra el orto” (shut your mouth in Spanish. The literal translation would be “shut your ass” but that sounds weird in English) in a really high pitched voice. Now the entire team quotes him on that almost everyday

Diana almost dropped a car on Bruce once and now she sometimes says stuff like “I should've let that car kill you” when he's doing something particularly stupid

The rest of the JL quotes it too. It is very common to hear the phrase “I wish Diana had dropped that car” in the Watchtower

Kori once blew up the kitchen because she thought something was climbing on her leg. It was her hair

The original Titans have a monthly meetup. It doesn't matter what kind of beef some of the members have with each other at the moment, they'll still meet. It's an unspoken rule

Hartley was Linda's best man in her and Wally's wedding

That's where him and Dick met

They now share embarassing stories about Wally. They're not really friends and they don't talk, like, at all, but they still send each other videos of Wally falling on his face almost everyday

Depression, just like ADHD, is something that almost all speedsters have, but it's almost unnoticeable because they always hide it, mostly using their superspeed to do it

Green lanterns and speedsters bond over starting to glow at the worst possible moments

Wally absolutely despises the smell of cinnamon

His parents's house smelled like that due to his mom being obssessed with adding cinnamon to every meal they ate, so it reminds him too much of the terrible childhood he had because of them

You can't really blame him for leaving social events when he smells cinnamon

Bruce has a video of Hal starting crying after Barry said “I think giraffes shouldn't be real” that he uses as blackmail sometimes

Barry's actual weakness is puns, he can't stop saying stuff like “I'll be there in a flash” and then winking like he knows something you don't. It's gonna get him in trouble someday

The YJ all have Tumblr accounts

Dick and Donna used to call each other the “Wonder Twins” so now Cassie and Tim are the Wonder Twins of their generation

The og Titans once followed Batman everywhere playing Superman by Eminem because he made Dick upset

Barry looks like he's about to cry all the time and he has no idea why

When the League revealed their identities to each other everyone was confused over why he was crying

It took him a while to convince everyone that that's just what his face looks like

He always looks like he's about to cry so when he's actually going to cry it's pretty obvious. And he hates it

When Wally and Barry first met and Wally started to talk about the Flash, he made a joke about how he always came to help “in a flash”. Now Barry repeats that joke all the time

Wally hates himself for being the reason why the ‘in a flash’ jokes started

When Barry makes a joke and Wally complains, Barry answers with “You were the one that created the joke, Wally. Live with the consequences”

#dc #dc comics #wally west #barry allen #dick grayson #bruce wayne #diana prince #iris west #hal jordan #tim drake #bart allen #titans #fab five #koriand'r #young justice #linda park #hartley rathaway #donna troy #birdflash #wallinda #halbarry #hal x barry x iris #halbarris?? #idk #the flash #green lantern #batman #wonder woman #the “cerra el orto” one is inspired by my friends and i lmao #justice league

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

🦅Russell Adler Headcanons

{Author's Note} Since I'm literally obsessed with this man, I thought I'd post my headcanons for him. All of these are based off of his canon backstory and character with bits of my own speculation thrown in so nothing should be too out of left field here. I may end up posting more of my thoughts on him soon so we shall see. Hope y'all like it and I'd love to hear what you think, as well as any headcanons you guys might have! Tagging @littlemissclandestine for this since she's an Adler fan. Let me know if I did this man justice lol🤭

‼️Content Warning: swearing, suggestive themes‼️

~ ~ ~

-Badass asshole

-Takes awhile for him to soften enough to really love someone

-Flirtatious jerk when he has a crush

-Shows he cares through small actions that can be hard to notice, as well as vague, rather backhanded compliments

-Shamelessly stares from behind those glasses of his

-Thinks it’s really cute when you wear his shades but would never admit it

-Stylish with heavy 70s influence

-Probably modeled for a male fashion magazine at some point LMAO

-Definitely knows how to dance

-Seems like the type to meme a bit on British people (specifically Park lol)

-Very sarcastic, sometimes to the point that you don’t realize he’s actually joking because he's always so monotone

-Secretly loves Belgian waffles (this is a reference to that one Bruce Thomas TikTok lol)

-Has a soft spot for the Beach Boys (I mean, look at that 🎶bushy, bushy blonde hairdo🎶 of his)

-Since so many people have asked and teased him about it (I see y'all in the fandom and I will not accept this slander lol) -> his hair isn’t fake, it’s actually pretty soft, very bouncy, he likes styling it

-Very particular about his appearance as it is one of the few things that he can truly control

-Prefers cats over dogs

-Can get obsessive about certain things and lose himself to them (i.e. his search for Perseus) -> Mason quote: “He spent so long searching for Perseus, he didn’t notice when he lost himself.”

-Still struggles with PTSD from his time in Vietnam, which, alongside his obsession with finding Perseus, is what led to his divorce

-Carries a lot of guilt and regret that he doesn’t like to acknowledge

-Started smoking to cope with the trauma of war, now has a nicotine addiction; when he’s really stressed, he chain smokes like a chimney

-Gets restless if he doesn’t have a cigarette

-Doesn’t sleep well and when he does, he usually wakes up every few hours

-Scars - Shrapnel? Abuse? Torture? Animal attack? No one knows and he’ll never tell

-Kiss or trace those scars and he WILL melt

-Difficult for him to let his guard down

-Has a tendency to isolate himself -> Mason quote: "You were never alone, Adler. Only in your own stubborn head."

-Always wearing those damn glasses cuz STYLE but also to hide his eyes to remain as a sort of blank, emotionless slate to other people

-Absent parents who never showed him real love or support as he grew up so he struggles to do the same for others -> they were the reason he joined the army as soon as he turned 18

-When it comes to cuddling, he loves holding you against his chest and running his fingers along your arm, cheek, or through your hair; small but intimate actions like that are his favorite

-Doesn’t like to show emotions at all, even during more intimate moments; he needs some coaxing to relax in that way, which takes time

NSFW Below👇🏻 (it's really not too bad tho)

-Sit on his lap👀

-Will pin your wrists during the sexy times🫣

-EDGING & OVERSTIMULATION

-After his divorce, he's tended to view sex as more of a transaction where both parties are fulfilling needs for each other so he'd be selfish at first but as your relationship progresses, he'd become far more generous

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler x you #russell adler headcanons #call of duty black ops cold war #cod bocw #call of duty #cod #Ren's writing #mine mine mine

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Warnings: implied assault and sexual assault (no super detailed description, but this drabble references some traumatizing shit—please read with care), coercive control, frightening scenarios and imagery, Protective!Negan

You were already trembling before you stepped across the threshold and the sight of Negan and his bat did nothing to ease your panic.

"Dwight, um, said y—you wanted to see me?" you managed to squeak out.

Negan finished oiling Lucille and looked up at you. His expression was serious and you marked the lack of the usual cocky smirk with another electric jolt of panic. He eyed you carefully, standing and letting his hazel eyes linger over every bit of you. The bruise on the side of your face didn't go unnoticed, nor did the cut by your eyebrow. You gulped nervously. "Mopping? Is that the shit they've got you doing for points right now?" he asked, gesturing to the mop in your hand.

You only nodded and avoided his gaze. What the fuck was happening? Why were you here?

"For fuck's sake, you are worth way more than that. I really wish you'd take me up on my proposal," he said, almost vaguely, pacing toward you. He seemed to realize you were shaking and his brow furrowed. "Oh, fuck me. You probably think I'm about to do something horrible to you, don't you? Relax, doll. You aren't in trouble. Quite the opposite. Everybody always thinks being asked to come see the big bad wolf is a death sentence. Admittedly, nine times out of ten, they're right. But not you." Negan watched your expression muddy with confusion. "I heard something," he said, scratching at his beard thoughtfully, "from some of my men. And if it's true something needs to be fucking done about it."

You were still staring down at the floor and his finger curled under your chin and gently tilted it until you met his eyes again. "There we are," he said softly. "You've got beautiful eyes, doll. Don't hide those babies from anybody, especially not me." His finger left its place under your chin, but you held his gaze. "You want to tell me what happened two days ago out back?"

Your stomach dropped. "N—nothing. Nothing happened." Even as you answered, you could feel the way that man had grabbed you and pinned you against the fence with his body as you walked back from dropping a load of trash into the dumpster. You could feel his roaming hands and hear his careless laugh echoing in your head as you begged him to stop, as you tried to resist. The growls of walkers on the other side of the fence had slowly grown louder; danger behind you and danger in front. Just as their grasping fingers would almost have you, that man, the soldier, would rip you away and slam you back again further along the fence. You'd disconnected yourself from what had happened then—disassociated. If you hadn't, you would have thrown your body to the infected yourself.

"Really?" Negan's eyes searched yours. "Because you're shaking again," he said softly, his gaze darkening. "How did you get that bruise?" You didn't answer. "Listen to me—if what I heard happened, did happen, then somebody needs to fucking pay for it."

You opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn't get any of the words out for a long moment. Part of you wanted him to pay. Part of you wanted to watch Negan cave in his fucking head with his bat. Part of you had already imagined it. But the rest of you (despite your situation and despite this world) wasn't cruel, wasn't cold, and perhaps, stupidly even, didn't want the man to die that way for what he'd done. Pay? Yes. But die viciously in pure terror and guaranteed agony? No... maybe you were soft. Probably you were soft. "I don't know what you heard, I'm sorry. But—" you shook your head. "Nothing happened. I don't know what you're talking about."

But Negan wasn't buying it and he sighed heavily. "Please don't lie to me, doll. Because I'm pretty sure I already know exactly what the fuck happened. I just need confirmation from you before I deal out some violent justice." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "What did he do to you? You don't even sound like you anymore."

Your wide eyes flooded suddenly with tears and you felt your body revolt against the lie you were trying to maintain. The best you could do was to not crumple to the floor and not sob aloud.

"Ah, shit," Negan swore. You were shocked when he pulled you in against him the next moment, pressing you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. "It's alright. It'll be alright. I'll take care of it. He's a fucking dead man walking..." You felt his hand smoothing over your hair, tucking you nearly into the crook of his neck and marveled at how strange it was to be offered comfort and safety by this man, who so often haunted your dreams. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. He's a fucking dead man." His teeth clenched and the muscle in his jaw twitched. The only thing left was to devise the man's brutal end. "You're done working for a while," Negan said, his voice strangely soft again. "Come with me and I'll get you settled safe up here for a while... Don't worry about a damn thing."

Prompt: "What did he do to you? You don't sound like you anymore."

#negan smith #protective!negan #negan smith x reader #era: the sanctuary

[angelltheninth]

Darkness Come to Light

Pairing: Dark!Conner Kent x Fem!Reader

Tags: cnc, rough sex, possessiveness, fingering, kidnapping, restrains, Red Kryptonite Conner

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Next fic for my 5k follower list. This is probably the darkest I'll go with them honestly. If you'd like to read some other fics instead you can read one from my wholesome list, or one from my darker list, but not as dark as this one.

Your wrists hurt. That was the first thought in your head when you started to come to. Your head was groggy, and your vision slightly blurry as you took in the room around you. It was familiar, yet not, Conner’s but not. Kind of like the man standing before you.

“Conner?” Your head throbs as you try to get up only to find that you’re unable to move from the bed your hands are tied to. Conner smirks at you, not one of the usual charming smirks you’re used to seeing. There was something much more sinister about this one.

“Finally awake my sweet?” Conner floats up from the ground, his eyes finally finding yours. Red eyes. The moment the realization, and the memories dawn on you a minor spark of fear flares up. You try to struggle against the bonds but to no avail. “No, no, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself. And after I tried so hard not to hurt you, or anyone around you from that matter to bring you here.”

The memory flashes in your mind. Conner getting dosed by Red Kyptonite particles a few days ago, vanishing, you and the rest of Young Justice searching for him, or any sign of him. Nothing. Then a sudden boom, screaming, you saw a tiny flash of Conner before you blacked out. And now you’re here.

“Conner, where were you? We were all worried about you. I was worried.” Conner just nods, his head tilting from one side to the other, studying you.

“Worried? Why? There’s nothing on this planet that can hurt me. And now that you’re with me, no harm will come to you either.” He lowers himself to the bed, inching closer and closer until he’s settled between your legs. “Well except for me.” His hands trail up your legs, his eyes traveling across your body, sending shivers down you spine.

You try to back up or to wiggle out of the restraints, but to no avail. It seems like Conner is enjoying your struggle, his hands smoothing over your legs a few more times before he takes his shirt off, muscles pulled taunt and rippling. His eyes go an even brighter red, his hand a blur as your clothes is torn clean off your body, leaving you completely naked before him.

“Conner!” You blush and try to cross your legs, but since Conner is currently in between them that isn’t possible.

“Normally, I would have taken my time with you my love, but I’ve what that weakling I was before does to you. He’s always holding back, but I’m not gonna.” He vibrates his thumb and presses it firmly on your clit, a jolt of arousal thundering through your body. At the same time he pushes two fingers inside your cunt, “Not wet enough yet. Don’t worry, I’ll get you there soon.”

“S-Stop, I don’t want...” He moves his fingers faster, making the words die on your lips.

“You don’t? But look at the mess you’re making? Come on sweetheart, you love the weakling me don’t you? Just imagine what pleasure I’ll be able to bring you. I know I’ve been thinking about it.” Conner grins, his thumb leaving your clit to unbuckle his belt and drop his pants and underwear down his hips.

His cock is already looking painfully hard.

“I’m not... you don’t have to...” You scream in pain when you feel him pull his fingers out and replace them with his cock. The painful sensation is immediately followed by a warm flood of cum. He doesn’t pull out though nor does he go soft, and honestly you didn’t expect him too, you’re very familiar with Conner’s stamina.

“You’re right. I don’t have to. I want to. I need to to fuck you.” His hips start to move, almost in a blur as as he jackhammers his cock inside you.

You pull against the restraints again, but to no avail. You feel hot tears start to well up in your eyes, rolling down your cheeks. This isn’t your Conner. Your Conner is gentle and caring, this one... he’s cruel, downright cruel.

“Stop struggling. I don’t want to hurt you my love.” His hand grips your hip, pinning you against the mattress. To your surprise his other hand comes up to cup your cheek and wipe away your tears, and for a moment his smile is the same one he used to give you. But the moment you start to relax, thinking that maybe your Conner is coming back he thrusts into you so hard mind goes blank for a moment. You can’t stop your inner walls from tightening around his cock, “That’s it. Give yourself to me. Let me fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

Conner leans forward, his mouth hovering just above yours. Your head is dizzy, your legs feel weak, and by god you feel so damn full. But you need to remain strong, “I... I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” There’s a growl in his tone, his eyes squinting for a brief moment, “Can you really say you’re not enjoying yourself? Your pussy’s swallowing my cock so well. It’s so full of my cum and I can still feel it wanting to milk more from me.” Just as those words leave his mouth you feel him emptying another load inside of you. “See? Fuck. You want more? I’ll give you every last drop. So much it’ll get you pregnant.”

You shut your eyes tight, trying to resist the increasingly pleasant sensation building up in your lower stomach. He’s already getting you close to an another orgasm. Your body goes flat as you let him fuck his cock and cum into you, your voice going higher and higher witch each thrust.

“See? That’s my girl. Just let go and enjoy my cock.” His lips find yours, prying them open and plunging his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moans as they come. His hands pinch and twist your nipples to an almost painful degree, your mind starting to go blank, your legs locking up around his hips. “He never fucked you like this did he? But don’t worry, I’ll make up for all of it. Give you my dick when ever you ask, I’ll fuck you every single day.”

“Conner, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m...” Another orgasm rocks through your body, going taunt and then completely slack again, Conner not being far behind, shooting thick ropes of cum into your already full hole.

“Good girl. I knew you couldn’t help yourself.” He grins down in triumph, practically beaming at you as you try to hide your face in shame, “Aw don’t look away now.”  He grabs your chin and forces you to look down as he withdraws his cock, “Look at all that cum, look at how much you took.”

You try to break his grasp, already knowing there’s no use. Conner looks more than pleased with himself. He leaned over and kissed your lips again, softer this time, almost like he used to do before.

“Was that good for you my love?” He gently whispers against your lips, his hands on your hips and thighs, “Did I go too hard into it? Anything hurting?”

You shake your head, “No. Fuck that was hot.” You’re completely blissed out as you watch him smile down at you. Even under the influence of Red Kryptonite his true nature shines through as soon as you turn your head to kiss him again, “Are you alright though? Does um... did the scenario bother you?”

Conner shakes his head, “Not at all. I think I enjoy being the bad guy actually.” His eyes flash a dangerous red, your pussy fluttering again, more cum running into the puddle between your legs, “And I know you do too. Now hold still, let me take these off.” The handcuffs click and you immediately rub your aching wrists. “Hmm... I’ll get you an ice pack for that. And maybe a warm bath? Just give me a moment, I need to let the Red K run it’s course properly.”

Honestly if Conner didn’t have you to be his anchor he knew he actually would let himself fall to his deepest, darkest desires. But when you’re looking at him like this, pulling him into a hug, kissing his lips so gently and letting him embrace you, how could he want to do anything else but to come back to you.

#conner kent #conner kent x reader #superboy #superboy x reader #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics smut #conner kent smut #superboy smut #dc comics fanfiction #titans #titans x reader #titans smut #titans imagine #titans fanfiction

[campingwiththecharmings]

HAPPY OSCAR FICVERSARY HONEY!!!!

That is SO exciting!!!!!!

Ok so listen, if you want me to choose a prompt specifically I will, but I had a thought that I think you might like so please just lmk what you think:

Neighbor Miguel is Spider-Man and his identity is a secret from the world, ofc. Reader works in the medical field, he knows this because they've talked casually on occasion in the past. He gets injured and doesn't have anywhere else to go (for whatever reason) so he knocks on reader's door.

Can be just fluff or smut, whatever your heart desires, but I thought it would be a cute idea that you might like hehe <3

Helping Hand

AN: Eeeeeee, thank you, Mel. Your friendship and support mean a lot to me, I hope you know that. ❤️ Thanks for being there, and also for sending this prompt in. I hope it did it justice! 🤞

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: T (for mild gore) Words: 1,007 Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader (should be GN, please let me know if that's incorrect) Warnings: brief mention of blood, wounds/injuries, hurt/comfort, cheesy/contrived dialogue probably lol AO3

——————

You sigh as you enter your apartment, shuffling through the door and letting your bag drop to the floor. The ER had been slammed today, and you were beyond exhausted. Starving, you head toward your kitchen, rifling through the fridge before settling on some leftover takeout for dinner. You decide to change while you wait for it to reheat and exit the kitchen, heading in the direction of your bedroom.  

A soft tapping noise makes you pause, your ears perking at the sound as worry settles in your gut—shit, it wasn’t rats again, was it? You’d thought the landlord had taken care of that problem months ago. You listen for a moment longer, your anxiety easing a little when you don’t hear anything further. Maybe it was just the wind, you think, resuming your trek. 

You hear it again as you reach the door to your bedroom, the tapping louder this time, more insistent. It takes a moment for you to realize it’s coming from your window, a surprised scream lodging in your throat when you finally locate the source of the sound. 

Is that….Spider-man? 

You stare, a little flabbergasted and blinking rapidly, as if it’ll somehow make this baffling image disappear. 

Alas, it does not. 

He taps again, the movement sluggish. His fingers slide down the glass and your breath catches when streaks of red appear in their wake. 

He’s injured.  

Before you can really think about it, you’re at the window, unlocking it and pushing it open. He all but falls through it, his huge frame pouring onto the floor beneath the sill. You immediately crouch beside him, your hands on his broad shoulders as he struggles to prop himself up against the wall.  

“Where are you hurt?” you ask calmly, your eyes flicking over him expertly, alert for any signs of injury. 

He says nothing, just gestures to his head, panting as if he’s been running a marathon. You frown, carefully taking his face in your hands. You can feel the warmth of his skin through his suit as you gingerly turn his head this way and that, careful not to injure him further. He grunts when your fingers graze the back of his head and you bite your lip, your gaze settling where you assume his eyes are beneath his mask.

“If you want my help, I’ll need you to remove the mask,” you tell him, your voice gentle but firm, leaving no room for negotiation. 

There’s a pause as he presumably considers your request, and just as you’re wondering what he’s thinking, he nods, his mask retracting like magic. Your mouth falls open when you not only see his face but recognize him. 

It’s your neighbor, Miguel. Spider-man is your neighbor. 

You allow yourself a moment of shock, before standing to your feet and running to your bathroom to grab a few clean towels and your first aid kit.  

Help first, questions after. 

You crouch before him, holding his chin between your fingers and carefully tilting his head up to check his eyes with your pen light. He flinches but doesn’t fight you. Once you’re positive he doesn’t have a concussion, you maneuver him so you can reach the back of his head and begin gently examining and cleaning his wound. His hair is soft against your palm, the ends curling slightly from exposure to the humid air outside, and you wonder briefly what it’d be like to plunge your fingers into the dark, mussed depths (under different circumstances, obviously).  

You’re close, close enough to smell him, his scent warm and woodsy, oddly calming. He winces as you work, grunting every now and then in pain as you clean the area. Once you're finished, you apply an antibiotic cream to his scalp that you know will help heal it quickly.  

“You should be okay, just try to keep it clean and dry.” 

He nods, wincing a little as he shifts, leaning more of his weight against the wall. 

You study him quietly for a moment, eyes tracing the tired lines of his face. His eyes are half closed, his mouth drawn in a tight line. You wonder if anyone else knows his secret; does he have a partner or does he carry the weight of all of this alone? The thought breaks your heart a little. 

“So,” you begin airily, his eyes flicking to you as you gesture at what remains of his spider-suit, “is this why I never see you at any of the building meetings?” 

He blinks at you, his movements sluggish, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve made things awkward...but then he sniffs a laugh, a smile curling on his lips, and there’s a dim light in his eyes that wasn’t there before, despite his wince of pain. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, a pang of guilt snagging in your chest.

He waves you off, meeting your eyes again briefly, his expression sobering a little. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“What for?” you ask, brows furrowing in confusion.

“For showing up like this…unannounced and bleeding all over your floor.”

“It’s okay, was only a little blood,” you tease, shrugging slightly.

He snorts and you chew your lip, your stomach flipping nervously. Has he always been this good-looking? Suddenly you can’t remember, aren’t sure you ever really took the time to notice…

“C’mon,” you say, standing to your feet and offering him your hands. 

Miguel looks between your face and your outstretched hands for a moment, then takes them, his large hands engulfing yours. You grunt as you help him stand, using all of your weight to help him get up off the floor. He wobbles a little as his center of gravity shifts, leaning against the wall again for support as he waits for the dizziness to pass.

“Okay?” you ask, watching him closely, your hands still clasped in his.

Your heart skips in your chest when he meets your eyes again, his gaze soft as he smiles and nods.

“I’m getting there.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #my fic #i can see an expansion of this #mostly bc i didn't get to write as much as i would've wanted #maybe with drabbles like the neighbor!santi au #idk i might revisit this at a later date lol

[blue--ingenue]

"Evasive Maneuvers" - Part 6

Read the next part

Summary: You've been in love with Sebastian since the moment you knocked him on his arse on your first day. Entering your sixth year, you finally begin working up the courage to confess your feelings when he suddenly becomes the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in decades - and subsequently becomes the school's most eligible bachelor.

Author's Notes: *shakes this chapter like a jar of dog biscuits* besties, i'm so sorry for the little hiatus, but as usually summer college classes were kicking my ass 🫠 my last finals are tomorrow, and then i need to speedrun packing for my dorm etc.... i also really wanted to do this chapter justice, so it was written and rewritten at least five times before i decided on the final draft. anyway, back to our (ir)regularly scheduled Slytherin himbo

The second he loses sight of her in the swarm of students he really starts to panic. He starts pushing his way through the crowd toward the last spot he saw her, but it’s by far easier said than done. Imelda calls out for him to come back for the usual post-game debrief, but he shouts an excuse over his shoulder about going to the hospital wing. She could be anywhere, and he’s wasting precious time. Sebastian doesn’t think he was nearly this panicked when he plummeted toward the ground mere minutes ago. He stops, exasperated, and surveys the crowd. 

Fuck it. 

He hastily mounts his broom and yanks the handle upward. Hard. It’s possibly the fastest he’s ever taken off and the crowd beneath him cheers as he shoots upward and forward. As soon as he clears the quidditch pitch he’s scanning the grounds for a trace of her homemade quidditch jersey. The thought of her putting so much time and effort into the garment, all in support of him, forces a fresh stab of guilt between his ribs. His broom seems to sense his urgency and accelerates on its own. God, he’s such an ass. She’s never been anything short of kind to him, far kinder than he probably deserves, and he’s spent the last few days thinking nothing but the worst of her. No, he realizes with a jolt, not even the worst. 

He’s been seething over the thought of her enjoying Weasley’s company. Merely being happy in his presence. Nothing malicious or untoward or even anything to do with him. Every new realization pricks him with equal measures of mortification and hope. How was he going to explain his recent actions without revealing his true feelings to her? He had no idea. At this point his one-track mind was focussed purely on finding her. He’d figure out the rest once he was sure no more tears adorned her face. Is this the type of bloke he was? So jealous that he’d rather cause pain than face it? He considers asking Anne for advice on the whole situation, but he already knows what his better half would say: “Just tell her how you feel.”

He shakes the thought from his head. Impossible. He couldn’t face the possibility of losing her if she felt the same way. And if she did? What if he wasn’t good enough for her? After all the pain he’d caused her in fifth year, and now this, what if she was better off with someone like Weasley? She deserves someone who will treat her heart with care. Someone who won’t coerce her into risking her life for dark magic. Although Sebastian had been true to his word about relinquishing dark magic, the guilt of his actions remained. Sometimes, on particularly dark nights, he’d wake to the sound of her wails and pleas as her body convulsed next to the remains of Noctua Gaunt, his hand would shake as he channeled the pain directly into her veins. Other nights he’d grip the sheets in a cold sweat, his body safe in bed, but his mind bound to the darkest parts of him he’d worked to repress. He could still feel the phantom rush of power as he held the relic. His blood sang with power as the resurrected dead moved to his every whim. And there, at the center of it all, her. 

Terrified, resolute, courageous. Even as inferi clawed at her arms and Solomon appeared at the mouth of the cave, red with rage, she was still trying to save him. In his darkest of moments he wonders if he’d ever deserved saving at all. If she hadn’t knocked him unconscious, and if Anne’s curse hadn’t lifted as soon as Rookwood was destroyed, Sebastian knew he could’ve done a lot more damage. He knew he didn’t deserve her, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her. And oh, did he want her. She was radiant, inside and out. Even if she wasn’t the most beautiful witch he’d ever beheld, her heart and mind would enchant him all the same. She was always so quick to help others, so fearless in her every endeavor, it was a wonder she had any love left to give. She never failed to surprise him. She made him want to be a better man. She saw every flaw in his character, ran a gentle hand along every faultline in his heart and mended it with a selflessness rarer than the ancient magic gracing her person. 

Sometimes he wanted to grab hold of her, tender yet so very sincere, and remind her that she needed to save herself, too. He wouldn’t insult her intelligence by suggesting that she was ignorant of her own needs. But one time, just one time, he wished she would put her well being above others’. 

There was one question still nagging at the bag of his mind, a thread he had neither the time nor heart to unravel at the time. Why had she been so upset by his kissing Amelia? Was she perhaps still angry at him for ignoring her this morning? Why else would she - 

Oh, hell. 

It was impossible, no more than a pipe dream, but did she share his feelings? Why else would she have run away? He wanted more than anything to believe it, but what if he was wrong? He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he confessed his feelings and she didn’t feel the same, he could lose her. But if she did, she could lose herself. He knew from experience that she’d go to hell and back just to fetch him, but she shouldn’t have to. Despite his best efforts he’d found numerous ways to hurt her in the past year. She didn’t deserve him. She deserved better. And if she wouldn’t make that choice herself, well, he’d just have to make it for her. 

Sebastian was so lost in his thoughts he nearly missed the flash of green beneath him. Cursing himself, he circled back to her and flew lower. It was unmistakably her. His last name billowed as she walked quickly toward the castle. He descended rapidly, calling out her name and begging her to wait. She turned and their gazes connected. Even if she was angry with him he felt a glimmer of hope that at least he had a chance to fix things. He was so focussed on her, he didn’t realize he was about to fly right into a tree until she shouted a warning, but it was too late to stop. Branches whipped at his face, stinging as he plowed through the tree before his broom lodged between two trunks and he was thrown forward. He managed to latch onto the branch, narrowly avoiding a swift trip to the ground twenty feet below. For the second time that day the air was forced from his bruised lungs and he fought the urge to vomit. Despite the pain and mortification, Sebastian couldn’t help but feel that this was at least partially deserved. He heard creaking as the branches to his left shifted and he watched his broom plummet to the ground. Well, the handle landed first, and the brush followed a moment later. Great, he thought. Imelda was sure to give him an earful about this. 

A brighter spot of green obscured the remains of his broom, and she looked up at him. He could almost hear a crack shooting through his heart as he took in her appearance. Her tears had smeared the green and silver paint almost completely off her cheeks. Her eyes were red-rimmed and every sniffle sent her shoulders trembling. At this moment he would have let go and fallen to the ground immediately if it meant he could wipe the tears from her face. Did he even deserve to? What right did he have to cause her grief and then swoop in like some undeserving savior?

She wordlessly raised her hands and reached out as though to pluck him from the branches. Blue light arced from her hands as she channeled her ancient magic. Sebastian felt himself being gently extricated from the twigs and leaves before those same gentle blue tendrils lowered him to the grass before her. 

The pair stood still. The intensity of her gaze rivaled his, but neither took a step forward. The air felt heavy with implications, things still left unsaid. Say something! A voice screamed in his head. You made this whole bloody mess, so say something!

He took two steps toward her, and said, “I’m sorry.”

She made no move toward him, and if not for the near-imperceptible softening of her brow he might’ve thought she hadn’t heard him. “For what?”

The determined search of her gaze told him everything. They both knew what she was really asking. She was waiting for him to voice his feelings. To lay claim to every bit of stolen affection threaded through the moments they shared. He had to tell her. He needed to tell her, she deserved that much. He opened his mouth to speak and - 

“I like you!” he shouted. She startled at his panicked outburst and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. She looked at him, calculating and wary, before taking a step back. “Sebastian, you don’t have to say that simply because you feel guilty about-” he gave a frustrated groan and closed the distance between them in two determined strides. He frantically took her hands in his, held them gently, and whispered the truth he’d been so desperate to hide from. 

“That isn’t why. Please, you must know that isn’t why,” he pleaded. A stray tear remained on the apple of her cheek and he brushed it away with a tender swipe of his hand. He let his touch linger for a moment before drifting back to clasp her hands. “You occupy my every waking moment. Even in sleep I cannot escape the thought of you. Nor would I ever want to,” he declared. Her eyes searched for any hint of insincerity, but she didn’t pull away from him. Sebastian took that as a sign of encouragement and continued.  

“You are unlike any witch or wizard I have ever met. Kinder and braver than any soul I’ll ever meet, and my heart is irrevocably yours. You needn’t say anything, but know that it belongs to you. I’ve been a prick to you. I was selfish and scared and jealous, and I’m sorry for kissing Amelia. I won’t insult you by asking for forgiveness I know I don’t deserve, but you must know that I am yours, even if you want nothing to do with me.“

He finishes, breathless, and watches her. His brain is on fire and he’s pretty sure he’s run through the entire spectrum of human emotion in the last thirty seconds, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give her time to process everything he’s just thrown at her. He waits, and waits, and his palms begin to sweat. Shit. Was this the wrong time? Had he just royally fucked up whatever remained of their friendship? His gaze flicked up to her face, which had remained stoic beneath her runny makeup and the volley of emotion he had just flung at her. An agonizingly slow moment later she looked at him, really looked, as though for the first time, and she was livid.

There was fire in her eyes and blue magic arced from her fingertips. He took an instinctive step back as she leveled him with a stare rivaling the intensity of his own jackrabbiting heart. She swallowed thickly, and spoke.

“And how long,” she started, cocking her head. “How long have you felt this way?” He gulped. Was she going to hex him? Sebastian was sure he deserved it six ways to Sunday, but he would’ve at least liked more of a reaction to his confession before she blasted him to hell. 

“Since fifth year?” he squeaked. He actually squeaked. Good gods, this was mortifying. He thanked whoever was listening that at the very least Ominis wasn’t here to witness the whole ordeal. He answered like it was a question, when really this one of the only truths he knew in the core of his being to be true.

She took a step toward him, her mouth agape and eyes narrowed in confusion. Hysterically, he thought it was the same look she adopted when Professor Binns roused her from her nap to answer a question during lecture. He gulped. 

“Why on earth haven’t you said anything?!” she shrieked. He furrowed his brows and took a step closer to her. If she was going to immolate him, fine. For her he’d burn a thousand times. 

“Because I know you don’t feel the same!” He shouted frantically. “You don’t! You can’t, and you shouldn’t! I’ve been awful to you, and you deserve better!”

She held her face in her hands, exasperated and inhaling deeply, before throwing her hands up and shouting to the heavens, “Of course I feel the same!” She cried. “Merlin’s bloody balls, how thick can you get?!”

He stilled. He’s pretty sure his heart had stopped beating around the same time the air in his lungs froze over. “What?”

At his single syllable all the anger seemed to seep from her figure. She crossed her arms, the blue lightning dissipating as her chest heaved. When she spoke she was gentle, careful.

“Sebastian, did you truly not know?” Her eyes were pleading, searching his for answers he wasn’t sure he could provide.

He spluttered. She couldn’t feel the same. She didn’t…”You’ve never given any inclination. And I didn’t want to do anything untoward or unwanted…” he trailed off.

She laughed. Not a cruel, mocking sound like he probably deserved, but chiding. It wasn’t unlike the chuckles he heard from her when one of her puffskeins tried licking her when she wasn’t looking. 

“Sebastian bloody Sallow, I’ve been in love with you from the start. I don’t know how you could possibly think I don’t care for you, but please, banish the thought.” She declared softly. He suddenly realized how close they’d drifted. The red thread connecting his heart to hers always had a way of drawing them together. He looked down and she was nearly flush against his chest. Instinctively he drew his arms around her. Something sharp poked his chest and he brushed it aside. It was the necklace he’d given her. Within the gilded confines the stone glowed a deep, confident blue. A memory sparked somewhere in the back of his mind as he recalled the parchment the vendor had given him. Blue - truth.

He dropped the pendant as though it had burned him. She was telling the truth. She loved him, truly and completely, and he loved her the same. Everything he wanted was within his grasp, if only…If only he were someone more deserving. If only he were someone who could keep her safe and care for her in the ways she deserved. He looked down and her eyes were drifting closed. Just before they fluttered shut her gaze flickered to his lips. That’s funny, when had he started dipping his head toward her? His composure faltered - and good gods, no man could be strong enough for such temptation-

But he needed to be. Sebastian Sallow might not be the man she deserves, but he would be a man strong enough to keep her from making the mistake of choosing him. His eyes shot open and he pressed a gently finger to her lips. “Wait,” he whispered. She stilled and stopped. Gods, her lips were soft beneath his touch. And the way she was looking at him, with such open vulnerability, twisted the dagger he held to his own heart. She was confused, waiting for him to say something.

He released her and took a step back. And then another, and another. “We can’t. You can’t feel this way for me. I’ll only hurt you again, and you deserve better.” He broke her gaze hung his head. “So much better…”

When he looked up at her again, he almost wished he hadn’t. The tears were back, and this time her lip was trembling. He strode toward her, holding out his arms in comfort, but she held up a hand. It was trembling, and blue lightning crackled across her palm, but her voice was steady as she spoke. 

“Nobody makes my decisions for me. Nobody. You can tell me that you love me, or hate me, or anything in between. But you don’t get to stand there and tell me how I am meant to feel. If you don’t want me, then just say so. I deserve that much.”

Sebastian was truly and utterly speechless. He did want her, more than anything, but he couldn’t trust himself to keep her from harm on his behalf. He couldn’t draw her back into his arms knowing that he didn’t deserve her, but telling her that he didn’t want her? That would surely kill him. So he stood, silent, and said nothing at all.

As the seconds drew on, she seemed to take his lack of response as an answer all the same. She nodded her head once before stalking past him back to the castle, and he got one good look at the pendant as her shoulders shook with sobs. Black - anguish.

.

.

.

.

.

Bonus Author's Note: besties, no matter how much you love someone, never let anyone make your decisions for you or tell you how you feel. you are irreplacable and nobody has the right to save you for later <3

Taglist: @snickette, @findingtruenorth23, @plooloo, @paganicher, @smilesworldsposts, @snoozebun, @crazyllamasurfer, @pixie-dustss, @margottheviking, @lollife1617, @milk-barrs-blog, @somethingiswrongwithme, @bleh-stupid, @stay-gray, @mrsbrookesallow, @lostgirl-28, @kateisnotheree, @doigettokeepyou, @dreamqueenkala, @uwuitzerimpact, @neoqueen306

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow #angst #fluff #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x y/n

[hayleythesugarbowl]

Could you do a romantic x reader oneshot on Captain Man ❤️ From- Henry Danger (Where a beautiful Fashion Designer in training (from: "Storybrooke, Maine") has a encounter with Captain Man at The John Hancock Center in Swellview where she accidentally gets trapped in a elevator with him, where Captain Man quickly starts to fall in love with her and flirts with her a bit during their time being trapped until Kid Danger comes and saves them, the reader secretly starts to find Captain Man very attractive as they shared a long passionate kiss until later on they were caught making out by Kid Danger after he and Schwoz got the elevator working)

(The reader is a vegetarian, she loves reading, designing clothes, she's attracted to masked men, she loves kickboxing and blue orchids, her favorite color is blue, she's claustrophobic, In Storybrooke her old job was working as a waitress at Granny's Diner, she loves animals)

(The reader doesn't who Ray Manchester and doesn't know that he's captain man, she was hoping to find a job in Swellview)

Stuck || Ray Manchester/Captain Man x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • ray manchester masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: oneshot where you, an aspiring-fashion-designer, get trapped in an elevator with captain man on your way to a job interview

word count: 3.5k

warnings: none it’s literally just flirting

a/n: ok I actually love this idea so so much and I hope I did it justice for you. this request was so detailed so thank you babes <3 enjoy!! 💌🎀💋

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You clutched your portfolio tighter as you stepped off of the bus and into the warm, spring air. You still hadn’t gotten used to the weather here in Swellview. Compared to your hometown of Storybrooke and the cold Maine temperatures this was practically a sauna. 

     Pulling at your skirt, you turned your gaze upwards toward the towering building in front of you. John Hancock Center, read the giant block letters on the building’s front, Quality Fashion Since 1909.  

     You breathed in a sigh. This was your chance. And you weren’t going to become a famous fashion designer by standing outside on the sidewalk for hours. Walking into the establishment, you tried to give yourself a quick pep talk 

     Ok, you told yourself, this is what I’m here for. I will get this job. I’m going to walk in there and show them my designs and what’s the worst that could happen? I don’t get the job, have to move back to Maine, tell my parents they were right all along, and go back to waiting tables at Granny’s Diner…

     Ok, so the pep talk wasn’t working. You looked down again at the paper in your hand. Floor 14, Suite B: 11:30am. You still had plenty of time—you were almost an hour early—but you just wanted to make sure you didn’t blow this. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself at your over-preparedness. You figured you could probably just sit in the lobby while you waited and go over your designs and play out the interview in your head. 

    Seeing no seats available in the packed building filled with well-dressed employees, you decided to try your luck upstairs—there had to be a waiting area or at least a chair on the 14th floor, right? 

    Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you headed towards the elevator. Seeing a mirror, you studied yourself in it for a moment.

    I look like a fashion designer, don’t I? You asked yourself. You looked from your (y/e/c) eyes and your (y/h/c) hair to the outfit you had spent hours last night stying in various shades of your favorite blues and realized you did. You’d worked like heck to get here and whatever happened in this interview wouldn’t change that. 

    Feeling significantly more calm than you had mere minutes ago, you stepped on to the elevator. You were just beginning to open the bag clutched beneath your arm when you paused as you realized alarms were going off in what sounded like the distance. It was hard to tell from the muffled elevator. Suddenly the elevator stopped—on the 6th floor according to the lit-up buttons near the doors. 

    Without warning the doors burst open, shoved apart with inhuman strength, and someone stepped into the small elevator. 

    Captain Man. 

     You recognized him instantly. Who wouldn’t? Apart from his infamous red-and-blue superhero suit, it also had something to do with the fact that he was one of the biggest celebrities in Swellview, rivaled only by his sidekick Kid Danger. Something you had to get used to when you moved here not even 4 months ago. 

    Personally you didn’t quite understand the idolization people had for them. I mean sure, they’d saved a lot of people over the years, or so you’d heard. But other cities survived without superheroes, didn’t they? 

    However, as Captain Man stepped into the elevator, you couldn’t argue that the man was an imposing figure—and attractive. 

     “You go around the back, Kid. I’m getting on the elevator” he shouted into his wristwatch.

     “Why can’t I take the elevator and you climb 18 flights of stairs?” you heard what must have been Kid Danger’s reply over the communication device. 

     “Just do it!” the superhero argued back.

      He stepped all the way into the elevator, not seeming to notice that another person was in it, and began pushing the button for the top floor repeatedly.

     You took a step backwards. 

    “I don’t think that’s going to make it go any faster,” you commented.

    “Look lady, I think I know what I’m d—” he turned around finally looking at you and stopped abruptly. “Hello there, I’m Captain Man, maybe you’ve heard of me?” He smirked as he sauntered over to you, “And you are?”

     “(Y/n)”

     “Well (Y/n), what’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing at the John Hancock Center?”

     You couldn’t help but smile at the superhero. You’d heard he was a flirt. Guess the rumors were true. “I’m here for a job interview. I’m a fashion designer. Or, I will be, if this interview goes well.”

      “No way! I’m somewhat of a fashion designer myself. I did design this,” he gestured to his Captain Man suit with pride. You chuckled as he began posing, showing different elements of his superhero suit. 

     “Stay focused, man!” Kid Danger’s voice startled you again. 

     “Don’t you have stairs to climb?” Captain Man yelled into his watch as he scowled and headed back towards the front of the elevator. 

     “What exactly is going on?” You asked as you tried to understand what was happening. 

     Captain Man turned to look at you. “Just your average burglary, nothing I can’t handle, beautiful.” He winked at you, and you found yourself blushing. You shook it off. 

     “And you’re pushing the button to every floor, because? I do have a job interview to get to.”

     He paused as if to consider this when a rumbling sound and the building shaking as if victim to an earthquake interrupted his train of thought. You clutched your portfolio tighter. 

     “What was that?”

     “I’m sure it was nothing,” he waved his hand in the air “Don’t worry, I have everything under contr—”

     The place shook harder and this time even Captain Man himself seemed vaguely worried. 

     “Kid? Situation?”  He asked his watch.

     “I think Minyak is on the roof and he’s somehow weakening the structure of the building,” came his reply, “I’m going to—” His voice was cut off by a loud bang and then nothing happened.

     Silence filled the elevator. 

     “Kid? KID?” When no response came, Captain Man rushed to push the button for the top floor again.

     “Dr. Minyak?! You said this was a ‘simple burglary’!” You shouted over the noise of—whatever was going on up on the roof—as you watched the lights on the buttons move along the wall while the elevator went up and up. From what you had heard, Dr. Minyak was one of Swellview’s most notorious criminals. You sighed and glanced at your watch. Luckily you were early to your interview.

     “It was a simple burglary! Dr. Minyak came here to steal all the designs for the Swellview Fashion Show this weekend so he could win once and for all—or something like that.” He shrugged.

     You tilted your head to the side, “Minyak? Fashion show?”

     “I don’t know, something about a childhood dream and a lost career in fashion…” He rolled his eyes. “But that doesn’t explain why he’s on the roof and why—”

     A loud bang filled your ears followed by a sound like metal scraping metal and the elevator stopped moving abruptly. Captain Man tried opening the doors, but they wouldn’t budge. 

     “Aw sweet beans and rice! Minyak jammed the elevator!” Captain man slammed his fist into the elevator wall. “I should’ve just taken the stairs!”

     You gulped

     “Stuck?”

     You had never exactly been a fan of elevators, I mean sure they saved you having to walk multiple flights of stairs. But you didn’t exactly love the idea of being in a small metal box suspended between floors of a tall building. And being extremely claustrophobic didn’t exactly help. 

     The superhero began pushing the emergency call button over and over until with a snap! it popped off. 

     “Oops,” he muttered sheepishly. “Great, now I’ll have to call Schwoz, if I can get a signal, and meanwhile Minyak is getting away again and Kid Danger could be in trouble—”

     He kept talking but you weren’t paying attention. 

     Stuck. Trapped. 

     You sucked in a long, deep breath. The air in the elevator suddenly seemed warmer and you pulled at the collar of your shirt. Was the elevator getting smaller or was it just you?

     “Alright Schwoz, just get here as soon as you can.” Captain Man hung up the phone and turned to you, “Help is on the way, so we should be outta here in about—(Y/n)?”

     He took in your panicked expression and your arms clutching the railing as your knuckles turned white, your back now firmly pressed to the wall. 

     “(Y/n), are you ok?” 

     “Oh I’m great. No, other than being suspended who-knows-how-many feet in the air with no escape, I’m doing just fine,” you snapped.

     “Hey, it’s ok, I have someone coming who’s going to get us out of here. Shouldn’t be more than,” he hesitated, “an hour?”

     “An hour?” You were definitely going to be late to this job interview.

     “Look, I’m doing the best I can, alright? And for now, how are you with small spaces?”

     “We don’t exactly get along,” you said, “We are going to get out of here, aren’t we?”

     “Trust me,” he put a hand on your arm gently, “nothing bad’s going to happen to you.” As if you punctuate this remark, the elevator shook, sending chills down your spine.

     “Do you mind!” Captain Man yelled up at the roof of the elevator. “Anyways, don’t worry, I promise we’ll be rescued in plenty of time for you to get to your interview.”

     You certainly hoped so. You couldn’t miss this opportunity. Captain man leaned on the wall across from you and sighed. He was silent for a moment, and then—

     “So, fashion designer, huh? I mean, what’s your story? How’d you decide that’s what you wanted to do?” He said 

     “What’s my story?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

     “Well I figure if we’re going to be trapped in here, might as well get to know each other,” he shrugged, “And it’ll take your mind off the whole walls-closing-in thing.”

     You rolled your eyes at him but you couldn’t help but smile. 

     “Alright,” you started, taking a deep breath. It couldn’t hurt to pass the time talking to the superhero in front of you. “Well, I’ve always wanted to design fashion, ever since I was a little girl. I grew up in Storybrooke, Maine and, well, there weren’t exactly a lot of opportunities presenting themselves in the fashion industry, so I came to Swellview.”

     “Of course, my parents don’t exactly approve of me throwing away my schooling and ‘stable career’ to take a chance at fashion. But they gave me 6 months to come out here and pursue my dream before I’m cut off completely. Or I’ll have to go back to Maine, back to college, and beg my boss at Granny’s Diner to let me back on, which won’t exactly be easy given the way I left, proclaiming my success before it even happened.”

     “I’ve been to exactly 9 interviews, so,” you gestured around you, “here I am. Tenth times the charm!”

     You instinctively clutched your portfolio closer as you thought back to the day you left your hometown and decided to take a risk for a future you wanted to have. You remembered the nervous feeling mixed with excitement and adrenaline as you got on the plane headed for Swellview. You didn’t regret it, not in the slightest. It only made you remember how important this interview was, a determined look setting on your face.

     Captain Man watched you intently as you told him your life story. You couldn’t believe how easy it was to just tell him everything. Everything that had been worrying you for the past few months. The knot in your chest began to loosen. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t, leaving the elevator silent save for the distant sirens you assumed had something to do with Dr. Minyak.

   You crossed your arms, “Well, what about you? Why’d you decide you wanted the superhero gig? I assume you weren’t born in a mask and spandex.”

    He chuckled, “Well, first of all there’s the fact I get stuck in elevators with gorgeous women during my job…”

     You smiled and tried to ignore the blush once again heating your cheeks. 

     “And also, I get to save people. I mean, Kid Danger and I have kept this city safe from a lot of dangerous people. I guess I just really care about the citizens of Swellview and protecting them. Honestly, I don’t know what all of you would do without me,” he smiled haughtily, laughter in his eyes. 

     You rolled your eyes, smiling back at him, “Oh I don’t know, I think we’d be all right.”

     “Not a fan of superheroes?” He feigned offense.

     “I just think people can handle themselves, without superheroes saving them all the time,” you answered truthfully.

     “Maybe you just haven’t been saved by the right superhero,” he challenged with a smirk. 

     “You call this saving me?”’ You asked playfully.

    “In due time,” he said, “Right now, I’m entertaining you aren’t I? Bet you aren’t thinking about being trapped in a tiny elevator anymore.”

     “I wasn’t.” 

     You couldn’t deny it though, you were enjoying his company. You had forgotten about your current situation. Or if not forgotten, at least became more calm. You took a deep breath and shifted your designs to the other side of your body. Captain Man followed the movement with his eyes. 

     “Hey, what’s in the bag?” He asked, indicating the pack containing all of your designs. 

     You instinctively put your arm over it, “Oh, this? iIt’s nothing, just some of my designs,” you shrugged. 

     “Mind if I take a look?” He reached out an arm and reluctantly you handed it over to him. What did you have to lose? 

     Captain Man took the bag from you and slid to the ground to examine your sketches and drawings. You sat down with him chewing your thumbnail nervously. You’d never really shown anyone your ideas before, other than possible employers and that hadn’t exactly worked out too well. 

    You glanced up at Captain Man self-consciously. He had now taken out multiple of your designs and was flipping through them, his eyebrows raised. You chastised yourself for being this anxious to hear his opinion. Your confidence didn’t depend on what he thought of your designs…did it?

     “Wow, (Y/n), these are…” He looked up at you, awe on his face, “If these people don’t give you a job they’re out of their minds!” 

    You gave him an embarrassed smile, your face warm. It meant a lot to you to hear him—anyone—say that. He handed you your deigns back, his gloved hand brushing yours as he did so. 

     You looked up at him and he met your eyes, but you couldn’t quite read his expression as his eyes bore into yours. 

    Bang! Bang! Bang! 

    You were both startled by a pounding on the elevator door. Your heart in your chest, you sprung up and Captain Man man jumped in front of you, his arm across your body as he shielded you from whatever was on the other side of the door. 

     “Hello?” Captain Man called

     “Yes?” The voice called back

     Captain Man’s expression broke into relief as he shook his head smiling, “Schwoz!” He lifted the arm that had been across your body and rested his hand on his hip. 

     So this must be the man who the superhero was calling before! You almost laughed; you were saved! Even as you rejoiced, you couldn’t help but feel…not disappointed, but you weren’t quite as relieved as you thought you’d be. You’d been enjoying your time with Captain Man.

     “So can you get us out of here?” He asked. 

     “Hmm…hopefully. The system’s really jammed,” Schwoz said, “I’m going to need to go and get some equipment. Is anyone in there with you?”

     Captain Man looked over at you. “Just one smokin’ hot fashion designer,” he winked and you crossed your arms teasingly. 

     “Ooh can I see?” Came Schwoz’s reply.

     “Kinda trapped in here, remember?” Captain Man rolled his eyes.

    “Oh, right,” he said sheepishly with a nervous chuckle, “well, I’m going to go now. I’ll be right back.”

   “Schwoz no, don’t leave!” Captain Man banged on the door. No reply came back. “Dang it Schwoz!” 

     You sighed. So close, you thought. You only hoped the strange man was, in fact, coming right back. You glanced at your watch. You still had almost half-an-hour before you’d be officially late to your interview. There was still time. However, you found yourself caring less and less about your appointment. You scolded yourself for thinking it, but you were almost glad to have a little more time with Captain Man before you’d go your separate ways. You couldn’t deny you enjoyed his company—and even his flirting.

    You glanced at him and found him watching you intently. He stepped towards you.

     “So, we’re almost out of here,” you said to break the silence. 

     He nodded. “You say that like it’s a good thing,” he said playfully. 

     “I bet you say that to all the girls you’re trapped with,” you shot back.  

     Captain Man laughed, “Not all of them, just the ones I really like.” 

     He took another step towards you.

     “You get trapped in elevators with a lot of women, do you?” 

     “Just the one,” he admitted, “but I’m thinking about doing it more often.”

     You were close to him now. Really close. You studied his features; the teasing smile on his face, the way his mask fit around his cheekbones, his eyes—they really were a beautiful blue, you thought—and finally his lips.

     “Why?” You breathed.

     “So I can do this.” He leaned towards you and suddenly his lips were on yours. Captain Man was kissing you. 

     And you were kissing him back. One of his hands went to your hair, the other pressed firmly against your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck tightly, his chest pressed against you. You couldn’t believe this was happening. You couldn't believe how little you cared about your interview. And then you couldn't think of anything else but the man in front of you. 

     Vaguely you registered hearing a loud noise, but you ignored it. Neither of you noticed as the elevator doors were pushed open and two figures rushed in.

     “Captain man you’re ok, I—My eyes, oh, my eyes are burning!” A voice exclaimed.

      “Woah, I see what you mean, she is hot,” another voice said

     Upon hearing the voices, you broke apart quickly. A short man with a tool belt and a teenager who could only be Kid Danger, his clothes covered in scorch marks and dust, stood in front of you. The latter was running his hands over his face, pretending to clean his eyes. 

     You glanced at them sheepishly. Captain Man ran a hand through his hair.

     “Go on,” said the man who must have been Schwoz with a mischievous grin, “pretend we’re not even here.”

     “Well, guess we didn’t need to get the elevator running, looks like you were having a great time!” Kid Danger scowled at Captain Man but you could tell he was relieved see his friend safe. 

     Captain Man turned towards his sidekick and Schwoz. “Anyways,” he said, “I’m glad you’re ok, Kid. And thanks to both of you for getting us out of here.”

     “It was easy work really,” Schwoz joked.

     A short silence filled the room. As if remembering you were there, the superhero quickly introduced you. “Oh guys, this is (Y/n). (Y/n), this is my assistant Schwoz—”

     “Assistant?”

     “—my coworker Schwoz, and you probably know my sidekick, Kid Danger.”

     You guys greeted each other awkwardly until Kid Danger checked his watch and said, “Alright, we better get out of here. Minyak’s still on the run and he’s not going to capture himself. We wouldn’t really be superheroes if we just let him go.” 

     Captain Man turned to you. “Speaking of which, you still feel the same way about superheroes?” He smirked

     “I might be revising my opinion,” you smiled

      “Well, good luck with your interview (Y/n). And, hey, if you’re ever need some more design inspiration, you know, for when you’re world famous, I hear Junk N’ Stuff might be a good place to look,” he winked at you and you were still contemplating what exactly he meant by that when he leaned down and kissed you gently.

     “Bye (Y/n).”

     And with that the superhero and his friends were gone, rushing down the hallway to look for a super villain and bring justice to this city. You smiled to yourself scarcely believing the events of the day.

     “Bye Captain Man.”

     You stepped off the elevator and onto the floor, checking your watch and slinging your bag over your shoulder as you started to head towards your interview. Except this time, you thought to yourself, you’d take the stairs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed y’all!! i had so much fun writing this and I hope someone else has fun with it. i literally love ray and so i’m over the moon that he’s got a lil internet community 🤭 thank you to the anon who requested this <3

#ray manchester #henry danger x reader #henry danger fanfiction #ray manchester x reader #captain man x reader #captain man #danger force #kid danger #henry hart #schwoz schwartz #cooper barnes x reader #x y/n #ray manchester actually deserves so much more love #actually such a simp for him not gonna lie #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #henry danger #dangerverse #cooper barnes

[bloodynereid]

omg i thought of a really awesome prompt and i that your execution of it would be absolutely amazing!!

anyways the prompt is booksmart gf!reader x street smart!warren Rojas and what that dynamic would be like. it could be a head cannon or a one shot, whatever your think fits the most!! could it also involve the six and camila? 💕

Notes on a Rockstar and a Bookstore Owner | headcanons

pairing: warren rojas/rhodes x fem! booksmart reader

a/n: heyyy ! i love ur requests sm and I hope I did it justice with these little head canons cause I felt like it fit better than a one shot. also happy djats day!!

tw: kissing, talk about groupies, fluff ?

description: they say that opposites attract, that couldn't be more true when talking about this pair.

You met Warren when he wandered into your LA bookstore in search of a record store. Obviously you didn’t sell music at the bookstore but you still felt intrigued by his presence, someone who was vastly different from the people you usually dated.

You brought down from your little upstairs apartment a few records and got him a cup of tea as you listened to them.

To say the least Warren was surprised by your taste in music, expecting a lot of classical music due to the atmosphere of your store but instead there was a lot of Elvis, The Beatles, Queen, David Bowie and then came the pièce de résistance.

Just as you had both nearly finished off your teas, you put on Aurora and Warren immediately went crazy.

Also can you just imagine that man drinking tea? He would probably want something more like coffee but didn’t want to be rude.

Anyways you didn’t believe him at first until he showed you the record sleeve. And there he was in all his glory, standing in a group with one of your favorite bands.

Of course, you freaked out a little but then agreed to let him borrow some of the records that you had and he didn’t.

The next time that he came to visit, he came deliberately and with some records he thought you would enjoy.

Over the next month or so you both exchanged records and you got him to read more books.

The first time you went to one of the infamous Hollywood parties you basically just stood in place until Warren made his way over to you… with a bunch of groupies.

You obviously had established a relationship as friends but Warren radiated an energy, he was so kind and funny so after that you just declined any and all invitations from Warren to join his boat parties.

Warren was honestly confused on why you didn’t want to come over when you had basically become his best friend but he didn’t push it.

One day he invited you over to band practice at the studio since he knew you had been secretly wishing to go for ages.

You appeared on one of the days that Daisy and Billy seemed to be having one of their good days so the session went pretty well.

The band absolutely loved you, of course they were slightly confused as to why Warren was hanging around a girl who looked like she had just walked out of like a fairytale when he usually brought around models and groupies.

Karen and Daisy adored you and they could see the change that you were inducing in Warren. Not that you had noticed but ever since you had stopped going to Warren’s parties he was having less and less of them as well as going easier on the drugs.

You met Camila for lunch one day through Karen and you instantly hit it off. Julia also loved you and you spent a lot of time around Camila since she had become one of your favorite people.

The moment of your first kiss happened after one of his shows. You had never been to a big concert and were honestly intimidated by all the incredible people around you but just after the band finished their set, you made your way backstage.

There you encased Warren in a huge hug and told him how proud you were of him.

That was when he realized how much of a wonder you truly were. Someone he wanted to call his girlfriend, maybe even his wife someday.

The kiss was akin to shooting stars, like a warm cup of hot chocolate during a thunderstorm.

You both dated for a few years after that, even after the band broke up you still saw Karen and Daisy quite a bit plus Eddie always came to visit the house you guys now owned (you didn’t make him sell the boat by the way).

You both planned out weekly dates, sometimes they consisted of picnics or driving around LA in your car. Sometimes Warren got you to come to huge concerts with him and he would basically have to make sure you didn’t wander off somewhere.

Reading also became a favorite shared activity. Every night before going to bed, if you weren’t doing anything else, you would read your respective books and tell each other your favorite quotes.

Being booksmart and introverted meant that you didn’t get out as much as you would have liked but Warren created a safety bubble that made you interested in finding ways to spend time doing the things he loved.

You still kept the bookstore well into your marriage and even added a little cafe to it. Persephone’s Corner became incredibly popular over the years and you and Warren spent the rest of your years together comfortably.

You had two kids together and Warren got to name them (with your approval of course) after some of your favorite artists and authors. So you had little Emily Rojas as well as John Bowie Rojas (yes they're cheesy but they fit well).

taglist: @pinkdaiisies

#daisy jones and the six #billy dunne #graham dunne #karen sirko #daisy jones #camila dunne #daisy x billy #warren rojas #warren rhodes #eddie roundtree #taylor jenkins reid #amazon prime #warren rojas imagine #warren rojas short story #daisy jones and the six imagine #djats fanfic #warren rojas x reader #warren rhodes x reader #djats #daisy jones and the six x reader

[mando-fando]

Blue Sky Thinking

Idek I have CEO Miguel brain rot (esp bc I started my new corporate girlie job two weeks ago!)

So here’s this!!

Pairing: CEO Miguel O’Hara x Corporate!Female Reader

Words: 1.6k

Warning: CORPORATE AMERICA

You’d been a CXO at Alchemax for two weeks now. You’d done some consulting work beforehand, and when the job opened up, an old mentor gave you a call to set up the interview.

“Alchemax needs a strong Chief Experience Officer,” she said over the phone. “Their products are good, but their image is…lacking. With no help from the CEO.” She added.

Oh yes, the CEO whom you haven’t even met yet, Miguel O’Hara. He had no interest in partaking in the several interviews you had for this position, and he was out of town for your first full week.

What a nice way to welcome a colleague, you thought.

Regardless, everyone else was competent and friendly, and you already had big ideas for the next few months.

The elevator doors opened and you began walking towards your office. Your heels click-clacked on the marble as you made your way down the hall.

You stepped into your office and began powering up your computer. You had a meeting this morning with the fellow chiefs of staff, and you wanted to go over your notes one last time before delivering your presentation.

“Good morning!” A chipper voice drew your attention from your screen. You looked up and saw your assistant Jeanine.

“Good morning Jeanine,” you smiled at her.

“Are you excited for your meeting? Nervous?” She grinned.

“A bit of both,” you leaned back in your seat, “but mostly excited. We have unlimited potential, and I intend to tap into that!”

“Let me get you a coffee,” she said with a wink.

You turned back to your computer and began rehearsing your presentation. It had taken you the entire weekend to gather all the data and put the slideshow together. You spent hours practicing, and you could probably deliver every word in your sleep.

“Here you go,” Jeanine returned with your coffee, exactly the way you liked it.

“Thank you.” You stood up and gathered your things and headed to the board room. “Wish me luck!” You called over your shoulder.

20 minutes later, a small bead of sweat ran down your back as you stared at your fellow chiefs of staff. Only one was missing: the CEO.

You’d been waiting anxiously for him to show up, silently cursing him for delaying something you’d worked so hard on.

“I think we’ll go ahead and start without him,” the CFO said.

You nodded. “Alright, let’s get started.” You turned towards the projector. “Firstly, I wanted to th-“

The conference room door opened, interrupting your introduction.

He’d finally decided to show up, the minute you began talking.

Although you’d seen photos of Miguel, they did him no justice. He was tall, taller than any of the other men sitting in the boardroom by almost a foot. He filled out the expensive Armani suit in a way you’d never seen before, and his hair was perfectly groomed.

His face was gorgeous, but it took you a moment to realize that his breathtaking eyes were gazing at you with an unimpressed look.

“I don’t think we’ve had the chance to-“ you stuck your hand out to shake, but he interrupted you for the second time that morning.

“I’m well aware of who you are. I’m also well aware of the fact that you hijacked this meeting to go over your silly ideas rather than going over the financials for Q3. Hi This,” he gestured to the presentation on the board, “can be sent out as an email. We have real work to do.” He said dismissively.

Frustration flooded your chest. You’d worked all freaking weekend on this presentation! Who was he to tell you it wasn’t ‘real work?!’

“Excuse me?!” You said with a raised brow. It had come out of your mouth before you realized it.

The other chiefs of staff looked up at you with wide eyes. You had heard that Miguel wasn’t one to take any kind of back talk.

A look of surprise flashed across his face before a stern expression replaced it.

“What did-“ he began.

“No.” You said firmly, taking a step towards him. “Myself and my colleagues had decided to change the theme of this meeting, so we can discuss some changes that need to happen this quarter to ensure client satisfaction. I’m not hijacking anything.” You spoke in a calm and eloquent manner as you felt every set of eyes in the room trained on you.

“Client satisfaction is not more important than the quarterly financials.” He challenged.

“Yes, it is.” You stated factually. “Since you stepped into your position, it’s gone down drastically. There have even been whispers amongst the board blaming you for the decrease.” You crossed your arms and looked at him.

Miguel blinked at you. You could tell he hadn’t been challenged this way in quite some time.

“This is a discussion we’ll be having in my office.” He said flatly before turning around to walk out.

“I’ll see if Jeanine can squeeze you into my calendar,” you clipped.

He turned back to you for a moment with a deathly glare before leaving the room.

“Apologies for the interruption, everyone,” you turned back to your colleagues and began delivering your presentation again.

After the meeting was over, the gravity of your interaction with Miguel began setting in. Your second week at the job, and you’d all but made enemies with the CEO.

You sat in your office and ruminated over the encounter. Emails began flooding your inbox as your colleagues began looping other employees into the process of implementing your ideas.

You scrolled through them mindlessly when a message came through from Miguel’s secretary.

Please meet Mr. O’Hara in his office at your earliest convenience.

You rolled your eyes and stood from your desk. Your office was on the opposite end of the hall from his own. You trekked down the long corridor towards his secretary’s desk.

“Is he available?” You asked flippantly.

“Yes, go in.” She said dismissively without making eye contact. She was just as rude as her boss.

You walked into the office and found him sitting at his desk with a pair of glasses sitting on the end of his nose, looking intently at his computer screen.

You waited for him to acknowledge your presence for a moment as you closed the door behind you.

You waited at least 2 minutes. He still hadn’t said a thing to you.

“You know what? I’ll come back later.” You turned towards the door.

“Sit down,” he said, still not looking up from his screen.

“I was under the impression that this was urgent,” you said, still standing with a hand on the doorknob.

He sighed and looked over at you as he took off his glasses.

“You’re mouthy for a new hire.”

“Did you call me over here to insult me?” You scoffed.

“That wasn’t an insult. Sit.” He gestured to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. You finally sat across from him.

“Then what is it, if it’s not an insult? A compliment?”

“I suppose. You’re new to this position. You’re young, too. Standing up to me, especially in a room full of other people is not something most people would do.” He said.

“So you’re commending me for undermining your authority in front of our peers?” You questioned skeptically.

For some reason, that made him chuckle. The sound reverberated through your ears, and a slight blush tinted your cheeks. The animosity you had towards him seemed to vanish.

“How did your presentation go? I heard that you have ‘big plans.’” Miguel leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms with a smile.

“It couldn’t have gone better,” the excitement in your tone was obvious. “And I do have big plans. I’d like to get our stock back up to its former glory, and maybe get the board to stop churning the rumor mill about our chiefs of staff. It freaks out the shareholders,” you said casually.

“Rumor mill?” Miguel questioned.

“Oh don’t play dumb,” you smiled. “They say you’ve been genetically experimented on.”

He laughed. His eyes lit up and his white teeth glimmered as he bared them. “And I take it you don’t believe the ridiculous rumors?”

“Of course not,” Your shoulders relaxed a bit. Whatever tension there was between the two of you had melted.

“Well, that’s good to know,” he sat back up in his chair and looked back towards his computer.

“Look, I’m going to be transparent with you about something: I’m not super personable. But my job isn’t to be personable. It’s to strategize and manage our operations. I’m good at what I do, but the board always loves the ones who they can show off at their fundraisers and shit like that.” He looked you in the eyes as he said it. You could swear that his eyes had a touch of red in them, but told yourself it was a trick of the light.

“I understand,” you nodded. “I am personable. I actually really enjoy those events. I’d also like to make a better name for CXOs since the position is becoming more popular, so I don’t mind the attention,” you smiled.

“Well, it’s settled then.” He stood up and you followed suit. “You’ll take care of our horrendous client satisfaction, and go wherever those assholes on the board need you to go.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you stuck a hand out to shake. He met your grasp and you almost gasped at the size of his hands.

“Glad we ended things on a better note than we started them on,” he winked. Your heart fluttered.

“Me too.”

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv

[cellophaine]

Tarnished Veil

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Blood kink – masochism, smearing of blood, minor injuries, angst, emotional gymnastic.

Author's Note: Reposting because my dumbass went out for dinner and forgot that I had this post on queue but not the taglist.

I'm very very excited to post this one! I've never read or written anything with blood kink, so I hope I did it justice.

GIF Credit

It was 3 AM, and you were still reading. Upon the realization that the man you had been waiting for might not be coming, you put the bookmark between the open pages, closed the book and returned it to the bedside table. Turning off the light, you thought to yourself: if he wasn't here by now, he probably wouldn't be tonight. You hadn't seen each other in almost two weeks. You missed him. Chasing the upsetting thought away, you huffed, fluffing your pillow. It wasn't like you needed a devil to keep your bed warm anyway. 

You settled into the soft sheets, which were as white as a swan's feathers. Running your hand through the cool surface, you remembered when there was another presence occupying the space instead of just you. You had to admit that you had been feeling a little lonely. Turning to your side, you grumbled slightly. You didn't like how you were losing sleep because of him.

Shutting your eyes close, you didn't see the figure that lingered at your window, casting a shadow on your bedroom floor. But you did hear the sharp knocks that came, jolting you out of your bed. The silhouette looked all too familiar that it made your stomach churn slightly in excitement. Your eyes confirmed your suspicion. It was him. You rushed to the window, all too eager to usher him inside. He walked passed you, taking a moment to reacquaint himself with your surroundings.

"Matt, what are you doing here?"

You wrapped an arm around yourself, shutting the glass pane so the cold night air wouldn't rush in.

"Did you miss me?"

Yes, you did. You missed his smooth, deep voice that always provided great comfort to you. You missed the way his body moulded to yours, fitting so perfectly. You missed the cuddles afterwards, the warm embraces before sunrises. 

"No."

He stalked towards you, and you saw the slight tilt to his gait that you didn't notice at first. 

"I can tell that you're lying. I thought you knew me better than this."

You slowly backed away, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself.

"I don't think I ever knew you at all. It's been a while since our last …."

Your voice grew smaller as you trailed off in a nagging uncertainty about what you were. You couldn't bring yourself to ask out of fear that it would imperil what you had, and Matt never brought it up. In the end, you came to the acceptance that you had an arrangement, one without a name.

"Aww, so you did miss me."

Matt stepped closer, towering over you and pulling you into his arms. You were stunned at his sudden want for proximity, and you let him hold you, silently cursing yourself for giving in so easily. He grazed his nose along the column of your throat, nipping and kissing at the delicate skin. His hand came to stroke your neck, guiding your head back to his will for better access. You could only offer a shaky whisper for an answer, holding your breath as quietly as you could.

"... no, I did not."

His hand on your throat tightened slightly, making you gasp. It wasn't enough to hurt, just enough to restrict your movement, holding you in place. He whispered along the cut of your jawline, just below your ear, his voice deep and his message clear.

"You're going to regret that."

In a split second, Matt picked you up bridal style, stalking towards the bed with you writhing in his arms. He gently dropped you onto the sheets before joining you. You crawled backwards as he followed. Your heart picked up its rhythm as you felt a subtle rush of thrill running down your spine. But you didn't want to give in to him just yet. You wanted Matt to be aware of your pent-up frustration after all the nights he didn't come to you. So you pushed at his chest, showing your displeasure. Not only did Matt not budge, but he also used the movement against you. His own hands came up to seize at your wrists, pinning them down to either side of your head. You were trapped between his muscular thighs. You squirmed in his hold, but there was no use. You could do nothing but burn a hole in his head with your glare, hoping he would sense your deadly stare. Yet, your heart betrayed you. It careened into a string of irregular rhythm at the skewed mask on his face, allowing one of his eyes to peek through under the hem. The familiar sight of his unseeing eye greeted you, along with a hint of mischief in the smirk that belonged to the long list of your weaknesses when it came to him. 

You could only watch as Matt dipped his head to your level, catching your lips in his. You engaged in a clash of teeth and lips. He feasted on you as if you were his next breath, as if he … missed you. You gasped at the intensity of the kiss, allowing Matt to slip his tongue inside, pulling you into a familiar dance you had done many times before. You felt yourself melting under him, his scent intoxicating you, your arms going lax in his firm yet gentle clasp. In your final attempt at being stubborn and disobedient, your teeth bit on his bottom lip and pulled, making Matt reel back with a grunt, releasing his hold on you.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched him touching a hand to his lips. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, tasting the tang of iron on your tongue. In the low light from the window, you saw the smear of blood between his fingers. You bit the cut on his bottom lip open. His blood was on your tongue, and you couldn't help but feel concerned; you weren't sure what would happen next.

Matt heaved softly, causing the red ichor to fall slowly from the cut. It wasn't deep or serious, but it was one of those pesky wounds that could keep bleeding until it stopped on its own. You watched as he gathered more blood on his index and middle fingers before slowly bringing them to your face. 

Your eyes widened since you weren't sure if you were seeing things right. But the warmth and wetness of Matt's fingers were there on your trembling lips. Matt smeared his blood across your mouth, over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing off at your jaw when there wasn't anything left. You held your breath, studying the stillness in his posture, his hand lingering on your face.

The fleeting moment passed, Matt came back to you, and you stayed still as he erased your distance. After an agonizing wait, his lips finally brushed against yours. The touch was tentative at first, as if he wasn't entirely certain about what he was doing. You pushed the kiss further, deepening it, and your frustration with his absence faded into the back of your mind. The blood you tasted filled your senses, and you felt drunk on him. Your mind was engulfed in a hazy fog, going into overdrive over the sensuality of it. You felt like you were sharing something sacred, sealing a deadly deal, signing your soul away. In the sweeping current of bliss and the tranquil air afterwards, you knew it was something you were willing to do with the devil before you, who had made it his mission to make it up to you for the time he was gone. 

You briefly parted, breathing hard. Matt took off his own clothes as you shrugged out of yours. You held your hands out to hold him, preventing him from advancing, when you saw the white gauze wrapped across his ribs slowly turning to a crimson red.  

"Matt, stop. You're injured."

Your hand grazed over the edge of the damp fabric, and Matt, wanting to distract you, took your wandering hand and laid open-mouthed kisses all over.

"I'm fine, just kiss me. I'll lose it if we stop."

He swiftly shut out your protest, sealing his lips with yours. Your limbs tangled, and the brisk yet careful friction of skin against skin made your core clench around nothing, begging for his aching cock that was hard and aching on your thigh. He hooked your legs to wrap around his slim waist and wasted no time plunging his cock into your weeping cunt. You let out a piercing cry in bliss, and before you could calm down from the intrusion, he set at a rhythm that unravelled you like a loose stitch. Matt burrowed his face into the crook of your neck, and you wound your arms around his shoulders. He rocked into you as if this was your first and last time being together, pure desperation and need. All you could do was hang on to his broad shoulders, your nails raked over the subtle definition. The drags of his cock drew out moans and meaningless babble from your mouth. Your mind blanked out, and all you could think of was him; all you could feel was his cock rubbing against your inner wall, hitting that spot inside of you that made your toes curl, made your core clench harder onto his length. The throaty grunts were like his earnest praises as you squeezed him hard. And he kept pushing and pushing, to the point where the injury on his abdomen cried tears of scarlet agony. 

You managed to utter your concern through the seam of your lips, between breathy moans and choked gasps.

"You're… you're bleeding."

Matt slowed himself down to a stop with visible effort, and you had to hold back the whine that escaped your throat. He ripped the gauze in half, throwing the bloody cloth to the floor, revealing the injury underneath. It looked quite fresh, about one to two days old, and it was bleeding steadily. The red drops dripped down his torso and onto yours. Before you could push him away to find something to stop the bleeding, he took your hand and put it on top of the open wound. His voice was husky, full of tease. And challenge.

"You were mad at me, weren't you? Punish me then."

You blinked, not quite registering his request.

"What? No! I … I can't."

He forced your fingers to press harder on his wound, making you gasp. Matt hissed at the sharp pain, yet, the smirk on his face spoke true of his unalloyed satisfaction.

"Go on. You know what to do. Hurt me."

You didn't know what to say in return. You could only stare. There was not a hint of regret or uncertainty coming from Matt. You understood what Matt wanted, but did you want the same thing? No matter how angry you were at him, you would never hurt him out of vindictiveness. Yet, a part of you called out, reminding you of the fact that at this point in your arrangement, you would always conform to him as if his needs were yours. Still, another part of you wanted him to suffer, just a little bit. It didn't hurt that he gave you the green light to go for it. 

You hesitantly pushed on his wound, prodding at the edge. More blood seeped out and ran onto your fingers, warm and hungry for the new expanse. Matt's face was a mix of pain and pleasure; the smile on his face assured you that he was okay, that he was more than enjoying this. He grunted roughly as he picked up the pace, his cock throbbing inside your dripping cunt. Your blissed cries were ripped out from your throat. You panted heavily, revelling in the new gratification.

"This is for … ignoring … me."

It was half whimper, half growl, which only seemed to encourage him to go feral. He was ruthless now, pounding into you like he wanted to ruin you for anyone else. Your broken screams echoed between the walls of your bedroom, unrestrained and uncontainable, for his thick girth in your tight cunt was too much. Your hand still splayed over his wound, feeling the flow of substance running onto your hand steadily. More throaty moans spilled from his mouth, and the sweat on his forehead trailed down, embracing the beautiful frame of his face. You brought your blood-stained hand away from his wound, and he whined in protest. You didn't know what made you do what you did next, blame it on the spur of the moment, but you had never been more pleased with yourself for what your little action inspired. 

You ran the bloody hand over your chest and neck, smearing the stickiness on your skin. For a moment, his thrusts faltered. Matt took it all in with his sense despite the rattling in his chest. Your panting, your wild heartbeat, the way you splayed out underneath him, adorning an invisible muslin of sweat and blood, and he lost his mind. The scent of his blood was all over you like a mark, like a declaration that you only belonged to him and him. That you proudly wore his blood, your devotion endless. 

His arm snaked under and around your upper back to cushion your neck, and his hand settled on your shoulder, pulling your hips towards his hard thrusts. Brute force and unrestrained fervour, it wasn't that different from what you were doing before, but you felt it. A piercing scream was ripped away from you, so raw and primal that your throat hurt; tears gathered in your eyes. You cried from the acute pleasure he bestowed upon you, the intenseness you had never felt with anyone else. Matt was moaning with abandon; his deep guttural sounds were almost animalistic as his hips pistoned into you. His fingers carved bruises onto your hip, pulling and pushing you towards the edge that was within reach. The orgasm crashed into you, loosening the knot in your belly. Your core clenched hard on him, triggering his own release. He finished deep inside you, filling you up after ropes and ropes of cum. The post-orgasmic daze felt endless as Matt slowed his strokes before coming to a stop. He stayed seated inside, and you felt his release spill out of your cunt, following the curve of your ass cheeks and dripping onto the damp sheets below. Matt dropped his full weight on you, and you welcomed it with a tired mewl. His dark hair tickled your sweat-soaked skin, creating a pleasant, welcoming feeling after he had just fucked your brains out. Your hand skimmed his torso and found the wound. You gave it a tentative touch, feeling the clammy mix of sweat and blood, and he exclaimed softly through a breathy exhale. You brushed the wet strands of hair away from his forehead, pressing a kiss to his sweaty temple. 

"Let me patch you up before you bleed to death on my sheets."

He grumbled, falling onto the side and holding himself up with one arm to temporarily free you from his weight. 

"I'm sorry … about your sheets."

You shook your head, your chuckle lighthearted and free. 

"Saying sorry's not going to be enough. You're gonna buy me new ones." 

He nodded tiredly; an easy smile brightened his face, emphasizing the faint wrinkles you adored. 

"Deal. And then we can do that all over the new sheets again."

His casual remark dropped a weight in your stomach like an anvil to the bottom of the ocean. You were glued to the edge of the bed; your mind worked its way out of the post-orgasm fog to poke at your prideful ego, reminding you of how he had disappeared on you without a word. Your hands held onto the ruined sheets, your head dipped slightly. And when you spoke, your voice was low and small, but it couldn't soften the sharp puncture of your intention; the deadly point was forged by the simmering anger you didn't know you had.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Matthew."

He went impossibly still behind you, and you didn't need an enhanced sensitivity to know he didn't miss what you meant. You were worried about him, for you didn't know if he was alive or lying dead somewhere in Hell's Kitchen. You knew his first name, his face, his voice, and that wasn't enough for a man who could evade you like the passing wind on your cheeks. As much as you didn't want to admit it, it hurt.

A hand settled on your back, warm and a little clammy from the dried blood, and you shrugged yourself out of his comforting touch. You silently retrieved the box where you kept all of your medical necessities, which had grown in variety only because of him. You patched him up in silence, and when you were done, your prolonged reserve asked him for the distance he so generously gave you before. Matt tried to break your reticence many times, but you didn't want his explanation. You allowed yourself one last sentiment when he stood outside your window, casting his tall, imposing shadow on you.  

"Goodbye, Matthew. I hope this is the last time we see each other."

Before he could say anything else, you shut the door and turned your back on him. Despite the finality in your conviction, your heart betrayed you with its wild and chaotic beats as if it knew this wouldn't be the last time you saw him. But for the moment, when you cast one last glance over the fire escape, you found no one.

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