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churipu · 4 months

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( OO2 ) ★ dude (romantically) , gojo satoru

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cursing, 2006 highschool era, one sided enemies to lovers (alias u hate him bcs of "reasons", and u think he hates him too), gojo being such a fucking tease i love hate him so much, a lot of cringe and weird pet names from gojo bcs he's kind of a little shit, you being mean to him and you make him sad (but you'll make up dwdw, i don't need angst rn), um...kissing (yhyh u guys kissed, so what >:() // wc: 4.0k

ENTRY ( OO2 ) OF THE "INTO THE IPINVERSE" MILESTONE

"i hate you." "say that again?"

tags: @sad-darksoul, @sweeneyblue1, @idkuluka, @colorful-happy-shit

there are a lot of moments that you hate in life, but with all due respect, meeting gojo satoru has got to be at the top of your fucking list.

white hair, blue eyes deeper than the ocean. god, why does he have to be so pretty? why couldn't he be born with no hair and no eyes at all? because that, that would make it easier to hate him completely — yes, you're implying that he's physically attractive.

"hey, apple pie," gojo sings out, slinging an arm over your shoulder, "i missed you."

you pushed him away harshly, "don't call me that, gojo. and i don't fucking miss you," a strained whine escaped his throat as he feel the distance in between you both widen at your push.

"come on, sugar bear."

"jesus christ, stop calling me those fucking nicknames." you seethe out at him, standing up to walk away — escaping this hell, escaping gojo satoru and whatever tricks he had up in his sleeve.

"i know you like them," gojo sings out, skipping to catch up with you. shoving both of his hands inside his pockets, "come on, annoyed acrylic nail."

you stopped for a bit, amazed at the nickname. so amazed that you almost actually pulled out a laugh card at him — god, he's insufferable, "what the fuck was that nickname?"

"you kiss your mother with that mouth?" gojo asks, leaning down a bit to put his ugly face up close to yours. frankly, it's frustrating because he's an absolute beauty, what a prick.

"my mother's dead."

gojo widened his eyes a tad bit, "my god — pumpkin, it was just a saying." he sighs, scratching his nape awkwardly, "sorry for your loss."

you rolled your eyes, continuing your aimless walk. the sole point of this walk was to avoid the male, yet here he was, walking alongside you. silently. as you turned corners after corners, he trailed behind you, turning the same corners after corners.

"can you," i look at him, "leave me alone? why the hell are you following me?"

gojo shrugs, "no reason. can't i do that now?" you shook your head, "and why not?"

"this is — stalking. an act of following me around, i feel intimidated. do you want me to file a report, huh? huh?" gojo chuckles at your ramble, finding you quite adorable; in his eyes, you were like this small creature, trying to be intimidating.

"definitely not." he chuckled, "come on, chatterbox. you should let me take you out sometimes, what d'ya' think? sounds good?"

"no. just — don't talk to me, don't look at me, don't even breathe the same air as i am," you muttered out, flipping your middle finger at the male out of annoyance making him guffaw.

his slender fingers grabbed your hand, pushing it down gently, "are you implying that i should die?" his voice came out cheeky and teasing.

"yes."

he rolled his eyes, "you're gonna miss me when i do actually die, bet you'll cry and say y'miss me." the male laid his hand on top of your head — patting it lightly, "come on, bonbon. let me take you out, for food, for smoothies, for desserts. anything you want, i'll give it to you."

you heaved out a sigh, "gojo, no — just, no. and leave me alone."

the male eyes you, "you hang out just fine with suguru. all sunshine and rainbows, why d' you not give me the same treatment, huh?" he questions, almost offended at the thought of both you and suguru laughing and joking in front of him.

"'cause you're not him, obviously."

gojo furrowed his brows, expression filled with frustration, "what does that even mean? what's so different about suguru and i? he's a good guy, but 'm a good guy too. right?" he asks, voice low and meek.

"just — shut up, alright? leave me alone."

this time, the male complied; refusing to trail your figure as you disappeared around the corner. his eyes following you until you were gone, chewing on his lip in annoyance.

he didn't understand you, in his eyes you were like a lost cause. and it perturbed him, his peace, his life. the male is dying to know whatever the hell he'd done wrong to make you hate him so much, whether it being his constant nickname for you or was it because of the fact that he's always there to make fun of you?

gojo wouldn't be this bothered if you were like this to everyone. however — the fact is that you're only like this to him. and why? he didn't know.

and he hates it.

very helpful google.

the teen boy threw his head back, sighing out loudly — a few hours since that conversation with you and he still hasn't been able to get you out of his mind.

"what'cha doing?" a shadow peered over him, the white haired male fluttered his eyes open slowly; the afternoon sun gracing his face as he tries to make out who the person above him was.

"nothing," he muffled out, looking to the side — geto chuckled, jumping over the male's head before taking a seat next to him, "did you just jump over my head?"

"mhm," geto hums, "so? is it about y/n?"

gojo looks at his friend, "was it that obvious?" geto chuckled, nodding his head mutely, "try to think about it — as far as we've known each other, what the hell have i ever done wrong to them? i'm so lost."

"who knows? maybe they like you."

gojo rolled his eyes, "who in their right mind, would act like that to the person they like? that's just stupid." geto chuckled.

"people like y/n obviously."

the white haired male huffs out in defeat, "is it because of the weird nicknames? in my opinion, they're really cute. i mean — pumpkin, sugar bear, apple pie? you'd like to call your partner that too, right?" he babbles out, still in trance, wondering what he ever did wrong to you.

geto spared a glance at his friend, "no, that's stupid. it's pretty cringe," he honestly informed.

gojo's jaw tightened in response as he stared at his friend in betrayal, his lips parted as he wanted to deliver something — but the blue eyed male slowly shuts his mouth, pondering for a bit before delivering his comment, "okay, you're partly right. but i enjoy calling them that. they're cute, and my nicknames are cute." he pouted, his glasses slipping down a bit.

"annoyed acrylic nail? really? you can do better than that, satoru."

gojo's head snapped towards geto, "how'd you know about that one?" he narrowed his eyes.

"y/n, who else?"

"traitor. and mind you, i got that from a quiz i was playing on the internet."

geto tittered out in pure amusement, "they were just telling me about what happened," he explained, "and boy, was it interesting to say the least."

"what'd they say about me?" gojo asks, his voice soft. almost scared to question his friend, scared to hear about how you'd describe him — despite being this, "calm", "coolheaded" man he portrays, when it comes to you, it felt like judgement day.

"oh, nothing much," geto uttered out calmly, "how they can't stand you sometimes and how you maunder out the oddest nicknames on earth — oh, and how they find you physically attractive." geto finds himself whispering the last part.

geto was one to say the truth about these kind of things. except, he's now being a little cupid, alias . . . you never told geto that gojo is physically attractive. but the first two comments were the absolute truth.

"they did?" how cute.

geto nods his head mutely, "maybe you should go meet them, they were pretty intent on describing you as quote unquote, the most attractive boy they have ever met," the lie rolled over his tongue smoothly that gojo couldn't help but to grin widely.

"tell me about it, suguru. please, please?"

geto was most delighted to do so. the male enjoying this banter more than anything — if he wanted one result, it was to get you and gojo together. frankly, he finds it quite the mediocrity that you and gojo aren't in an established relationship as of now.

"they were saying how you have these pretty blue eyes that they'd love to look at every hour," geto started, "and how they actually don't mind some of your nicknames — like, sugar bear. they find it endearing."

little bastard. gojo was smiling like a fool right now, his long legs crossed happily as he sighed out in content, "i fucking knew it."

"well, what're you waiting for?"

gojo hops up, peering down at geto who was still seated, "i owe you one, suguru," geto chuckled, shaking his head.

oh, he owed me more than one. geto thinks to himself, waving his friend goodbye.

"hey, sugar bear." gojo confidently approached you, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk on his face, "i missed you."

groaning out in response, you covered your ears with the palm of your hands; not wanting to engage in the conversation right as it started. gojo chuckles softly, circling his fingers around your wrists, pulling them away from your ears, "come on, why're you always so mean to me?"

"you get on my fucking nerves. asswipe." you muttered out, pulling your wrists away, "and don't touch me."

gojo winced, "ouch. so, heard from someone that you called me attractive, huh?" his eyebrows danced up and down in delight, as if he was mocking you.

you arched your brow in confusion, because for all you know. one, you never said that to anyone. two, even if you did find him attractive, you didn't remember ever telling that to just anyone — hell, you don't remember telling anyone about it either.

"excuse you?" gojo gave you a lop-sided grin.

"so? why're you keeping up with the attitude?" he whispers out, shaking his head.

"gojo, what the fuck? who did you hear that from?" you interrogated the male, one of your hand resting on your hips, "whoever the fuck gave you that information is making shit up — no, i don't find you attractive."

the male rolled his eyes at your stubborn demeanor. well, you weren't particularly stubborn; you were partly framed at this point since you don't remember ever saying that to anyone.

"come on, why'd you have to lie to me? it's not like 'm gonna be angry or anything," you sent a sharp glare at him, because he is wrong for saying that — you made it clear you never expressed that forbidden thought to anyone. so why was he saying this to you?

"gojo—"

"why do you call suguru by his first name but me by my surname?" gojo cuts you off.

"gojo, listen—"

before you could say anything else, the male confidently hushes you down, yet again cutting your words off. and if there's anything else you hated more than gojo satoru, it's being interrupted while you were talking.

"gojo, respectfully, shut the fuck up." you scowled at him, and that indeed managed to shut him up almost immediately — the glare you had in your eyes signifying that you were actually serious. gojo can't help but to swallow the non-existent lump in his throat at the sight.

"i never said anything about you being attractive, and whoever the fuck said that to you is a pathological liar. this is getting tiring," you slowly, and calmly tell him. way too calmly for his liking, "you're bothering me. so with all due respect, can you like . . . maybe, leave me the fuck alone and never talk to me unless it's mission related. it's fucking annoying."

gojo was silent. he was clueless of how to react, a part of him wanted to get angry, he has so much questions to ask you. but another part of him just wanted to lay down low and walk away. and gojo went after the latter.

his stomach churned as he processed your words silently, his smile dropping, and his gaze softened. the male inhaled sharply before nodding his head, "okay, sorry."

and he turned his heels, slowly walking away out of your sight — you stared at his back, watching him walk further and further.

letting a string of curses escape your lips, you felt the urge to reach out to the male. call out to his name. say you were sorry and how you didn't mean that — god, sometimes you think it was you that should respectfully shut the fuck up.

" . . . goj—" you shook your head, deciding to just stay silent for now. for now.

this wasn't the first time you've told him off; and he always comes back the next day, so gojo would probably be the same old him tomorrow, right?

wrong.

gojo was dead set on what he was doing, avoiding you. and damn, he was pretty good at it — that it pisses you off. because why isn't he calling you those weird nicknames? why isn't he trailing after you anymore? why isn't he talking to you? why isn't he batting an eyelash at you? one week and still going strong.

"heartbreak problems?" geto appears beside you, taking a seat next to you, whistling out loudly, "over satoru? that's a first."

you wanted to retort back to the male, but honestly, there isn't any point to it. so you actually bobbed your head, "guess so," you muttered out lowly, balling your fists.

"what happened?"

his question made you side eye him, you were pretty sure gojo would've told him by now — after all, they're quite the pair at school. so this was an honest surprise, "shit happened. i said things that i obviously didn't mean, and now i'm suffering the consequences of my own actions, fairly enough, it fucking sucks."

"so, you're openly admitting to me that you do like him?" geto questioned softly, his eyes traveling to the ceiling of the classroom, "satoru? the one you shit-talk about every single day?"

you grunted, "jus' because i shit-talk him. doesn't mean i hate him," geto blinked feverishly before laughing out, "the hell are you laughing at, asswipe?"

"i told him you found him attractive. but i guess things didn't go as i expected," geto spouts out the truth, his laugh dying down slowly into a small smile, "what did'ya say to him?"

"thought you'd know by now, and that was you? fuck." you murmur out, "i told him to leave me alone and never talk to me unless it's mission related. i said it was annoying— that he was annoying."

geto hums out, "why're you always so angry towards him anyways?"

good question. why?

"that's . . . none of your concern, suguru." you ended up shutting down his question, chewing your lips in pure annoyance.

the male raises his hands up, "right. it's not mine — but it is satoru's, you should talk to him," he advices, "he's been miserable, trust me."

"he looks like he's doing fine, and doesn't he like . . . hate me?" geto raises a brow in disbelief, wondering if you were just plain dumb or too oblivious — or both. the male shakes his head, "oh. i thought he would by now."

"y'think he would do all that thing to you when he hates you?"

"well, it's him so it wouldn't be surprising. really." you chuckled out hoarsely, "and are you really giving me advice right now? because i can't fucking believe i'm actually getting an advice from you out of all people."

"that offended me." he smiled.

"well, sorry. i've never taken you for the advice giver type of person, so? is it really my fault?" you questioned, making the male roll his eyes in response.

"you have a man to chase, why are you still talking to me?"

right. you did, "bye suguru, i owe you one."

geto sighs out, remembering the same words that gojo had said to him a week before — and how the tables have turned. he was thoroughly enjoying this all.

"gojo."

the male stopped when heard your voice. your sweet, loving voice. oh how he missed it — your voice, your glare, you. finally sparing his first glance at you after a week.

it was hard. he's miserable. he wanted to approach you, he wanted to call you the nicknames he'd searched on google before morning comes, he wanted to talk to you even if it ended up on you scolding him with very nice words, he wanted to see you. gojo just wanted to see you.

the white haired male has never felt so miserable in his life. this was the farthest he has ever been from you, and it was honestly killing him inside.

"what?" he asks, wondering if he had done yet again, something to make you approach him first like such. because one thing he was confident in is that, you, y/n l/n, would never approach him for anything besides missions or . . . anger, "what did i do wrong this time? i didn't talk to you like you told me to. so?"

"you're fucking unbearable." you muttered out, fists balling tightly — very much angry at him, and at yourself.

gojo raises a brow, "i'm unbearable? what makes you think you can come up to me and tell me that?" he asks you, his voice soft, and a ghast of his blue eyes reflecting behind the dark lenses of his glasses.

"god, i hate you so much."

no, no, no. it wasn't supposed to go this way, you weren't supposed to say that you hated him — and the way gojo furrowed his brows at your statement made your heart drop. why couldn't you just mutter out the word "sorry" and everything would be back to normal.

when people tell you that, "sorry", "thank you", and "please" are the hardest words to say. you didn't take it literally — but now that you were in a position to say one of them, you could finally agree on it. why was it so hard to mutter out a five letter word?

"okay, you made it clear last week. what else do y'want me to say?" he muffled out lightly.

"i hate you." you repeated, "so fucking much."

gojo shakes his head, prompting to ignore you. he turned his heels and began to step away from you. he didn't need anymore hurtful words from you; from someone he deeply has feelings for, "don't fucking walk away," he heard you speak.

"don't . . . walk away." your voice dropped down a tone, "please."

the male hesitated, but he stopped walking in the end. gojo had only stepped away a few times and he couldn't fucking stand it, the way you called out to him — lord, if this hasn't been so serious. he swore he would be running to you right now, how he wanted to have you in his arms right now, even if it ended up with you pushing him away. he would take the chance.

it was better than having to ignore you like this.

"what?" he breathes out again, this time a little curious to what you had to say.

you blinked, parting your lips to say something, but nothing would come out. a few seconds passed, and your lips are still parted. and you were starting to grow desperate, desperate to say something — anything at this point. anything to make the male stay, to stop him from walking away.

"y/n . . . i don't have time for this." he mutters out, trying to keep his act up, even if he was fighting back the urge to just drop everything and run to you.

"no, wait. gojo— satoru." it took one specific word to roll over your tongue, and his heart was racing rapidly. his cerulean eyes intently looking at you from behind the dark lenses, "please, i . . . i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, so please don't walk away from me. don't do that again."

gojo felt his heart began to pound. the male stood there, his breathing growing rapid, "i didn't mean what i said to you — it was my fault. i'm fucking miserable, satoru. i don't know what to do," you tell him, voice lacing in desperateness, "i fucking hate you for this. i swear to god, it's disgusting . . . the feelings. i've never felt like this before and i hate it. i think about you all damn time, i hate you because why the fuck am i feeling like this? i can't stop, satoru."

the male parted his lips to respond, but you cut him off, continuing your words. groggily fiddling with your uniform, brows furrowed, eyes glassy, you continued, "so don't fucking walk away from me. don't fucking ignore me, please."

it took gojo no time to stride over to you, "fuck. do you know how fucking miserable i was for one. whole. week? do you think i wanted to ignore you? to not look at you?" his large hands cupped both side of your face, "i was fucking miserable, y/n. i just wanted you to know how much i fucking missed you. one day," he raises up a finger, "one day felt like a whole year, i can't stand it much longer. so, please — don't push me away anymore."

you look up at him, lips slightly parted, "i hate you."

gojo tilted your face up to him, "say that again?"

his fingers traveled down, brushing the skin of your neck vividly. even with his glasses on, you could see his eyes perfectly — and how they gleamed brightly. gojo smiles lightly, using his other hand to grab your right hand, placing your palm on top of his chest. where his heart was. the constant rapid thuds that you could feel against his chest made your heart flutter.

"god, i fucking love you," he breathes out, drawing your face towards his, his lips inclining towards yours — and your mouths fell together, a few seconds passed and gojo pulled back slightly, his lips parted, "i fucking love you, y/n," he whispers softly, capturing your lips into another kiss.

the hand you had on his chest lightly crumpled against his uniform, holding the male in place as you yearned more of the taste of his lips. it was vague, but you could taste strawberries — and . . . cream cheese. pulling away, you stared at him, "dude."

gojo arches a brow, etching your fingers off of his uniform. lacing them together with his — like a perfect puzzle piece, it was like his hand was meant for yours, and yours for his, "what did you say?"

clearing your throat, you said, "dude, but romantically."

the male chuckles, "you ruined our kiss and our moment, for that?" he pressed a kiss onto the tip of your nose, maintaining eye contact, "d'you know how long i've been wanting to do that? to kiss you?"

you shook your head, "no, but did you eat something with strawberries? and cream cheese? i could taste it."

gojo blinks, "oh, yeah. i had some daifuku," he replies, scratching his nape sheepishly, "why did you have to bring that up now, couldn't it wait until later?"

"dude." he looks at you in disbelief.

"but romantically, again." you added, and gojo smiles, "i can't help it — i don't know what to say."

"i do," he pressed a kiss into the hollow of your forehead, "date me. i promise i'll treat you well. i won't call you those nicknames anymore, just — i just need you to be close to me."

"what if i said no?"

"after that kiss?" he pulls away from you.

"kidding, dude."

the male whines, "stop calling me dude," he said, "can't you call me something else? baby? honey? darling? cutie? handsome? none of that?" he asks out.

"dude is pretty romantic." you rolled your eyes, "do you ever hear me calling anyone else with dude?"

he shook his head, "you never call anyone with a nickname anyways." gojo grumbled under his breath, looking away, "fine, what do you prefer? i don't do well with — nicknames."

"i like the sound of baby, or handsome. i am handsome, right? right?" you rolled your eyes, but gave out a subtle nod, "i knew it, you did find me attractive after all."

"shut up or i'm sticking with dude."

"no," he brushes his lips against your cheek, "i'm baby now. and you — you're sugar bear, pumpkin, apple pie, annoyed acrylic nail, and more to come."

"didn't you say you won't call me those nicknames anymore?" you questioned him with a light smile.

"uh . . . no, you heard wrong."

"okay, dude." you chuckled.

"y/n!" he whines.

#𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #satoru #1K MILESTONE #1K MILESTONE EVENT #gojo #i love him so much im gonna cry #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader

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cryptidcorners · 6 months

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Josh Futturman x Reader Headcanons

= Character: Josh Futturman

= Media: Show!Future Man

= Prompt: N/A

= Description: Just !Platonic & !Romantic mixed Headcanons!

= Request: N/A

= Tags: Fluff ! Headcanons, Shy/Awkward Josh, Romantic + Platonic, Established Relationship, Some Comfort + Reader is !GN

= Warnings: None.

= Please Read my INTRO before interacting !

Josh has always struggled to maintain relationships, including ones with friends. Not only because he's incredibly socially awkward, but his escapism within videogames plays a major factor. So, he treasures what he has with you much more seriously than anyone you knew.

Rambles about his games all the time. His interests are something you can never get him to shut up about. Josh is usually into strategies, lore & development, his favorite being "Biowars", which you already knew had quite the reputation for being a challenging videogame.

He's pretty bubbly, especially around you. Josh is an absolute sweetheart and will get flustered at almost anything. His childish personality roots out much more when you're around, mostly because Josh feels more comfortable.

He isn't very open about his feelings, mostly because he's afraid of losing people. Josh desperately wants to be a part of something and refuses to mess it up somehow. Josh, however, is very different when you're opening up. He'll advise, comfort and try to cheer you up. (It's actually crazy how good his advice is sometimes.)

Josh is content with following you anywhere, as long as it doesn't involve his house or hear his parents. If I'm going to be honest, if he's particularly choosing somewhere to lounge, it'd be an arcade. It's a field where he specializes in and he can impress you easily. It's also somewhere he can discard his low self-esteem and indulge in his skills.

Praise is like a drug to Josh. Compliments or any sight of you liking him (or what he's doing), he feels intense dopamine. He really enjoys making people happy.

He's pretty charismatic sometimes, even when he's not trying to be. Josh is usually awkward when directly talking to somebody with a set question or goal in mind, but when he needs to go with the flow, it's much more grounded. With you in mind, Josh is much more relaxed, so he isn't as shy as he is with strangers.

Wouldn't exactly say he's very affectionate, but he wouldn't mind hugging either. Again, Josh is pretty awkward, and I doubt he rarely showcases soft intimacy around anyone (whenever it's platonic or romantic). He would love to do it, but he's very shy. Though, he isn't afraid to try. If you ask, he's perfectly fine with holding your hand or sitting close.

As I mentioned, Josh is very tentative on affection, especially receiving it, but he loves getting his hair and face touched. Dude needs love.

Digs through your trash. He doesn't have any ill intents, but Josh will take time out of his day to scavenge through waste instead of asking you a minor question. I know I mentioned he's very relaxed around you, but Josh definitely overthinks, especially with relationships. He tries his best.

Will cry real tears of joy if you ever give him something. Josh really appreciates gifts, no matter who it's from. Even if it's not game related, he's definitely holding onto it for a while. (Bonus Points If: It's an animal toy, a decoration or handmade.)

Romantically speaking, he enjoys kissing you or indulging in anything sweet. A lot of giggling & sweet talk. Josh isn't very experienced in relationships like this, so he tried to wing it. Needless to say, he probably gets advice from Google images and it's adorable to see him try his best to impress you.

Will always defend you, even if he fails miserably. Absolute trooper.

Josh will one hundred percent get emotional at any piece of film he is watching with you. Especially if it's a game cutscenes and it involves animals.

Huge softie. I don't think Josh can handle saying anything remotely mean to you or reviving it. If he does, expect a flood of apologies.

Can get way into character sometimes, whatever context this is. You know what I'm talking about.

Very clingy. No other words.

Lastly, he'd definitely call you nicknames in the cutest way possible. If he lets you call him "Joshy", you've probably earned the highest pillar of his trust.

#🎮 josh futturman #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #future man #headcanons #josh hutcherson #writing #writers on tumblr #future man 2017

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kquil · 3 months

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DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER ONE

01 : ARRIVAL

SERIES SUM. : (A Marauders Era Fix-It-Fic - featuring Reader as Walburga Black but better)

You wake up in pitch blackness and under excruciating pain. It isn't too long before you realise that you've been transported into the world of Harry Potter…and you've taken the place of a familiar villainess - Walburga Black. You need to escape this toxic family. The first order of business is Divorce AND YOU'RE DEFINITELY TAKING THE KIDS!

CHPT. SUM. : you take a familiar villainess' place, but it's all just a dream, right?

TAGS. : son sirius black/mother reader ; son regulus black/mother reader ; marauders fix-it-fic ; transferring into harry potter series (marauders era) au ; reader is a harry potter fan ; but not a JKR fan ; walburga black is no more ; or is she? ; pre-marauders era ; sirius black is an angry child ; regulus black is a precious baby ; big brother sirius being a little jealous ; mentions of child abuse (not explicit) ; orion black can eat dirt ; kreacher is a precious bean ; not canon compliant ; the journey begins!

LENGTH : 6.3k

1st August 1971

Your eyes snap open to opaque darkness as a silent scream escapes you. Pain. Excruciating and tormenting pain rips your head in two and paralyses the rest of your body. You want to call for help, desperate for relief but words fail you. It’s as if someone had lacerated your throat and ran away with your mangled vocal cords. Overwhelmed by the pressure in your head, you quickly surrender and fall into the mouth of the hungry blackness encompassing you.

The next time you wake up, you were almost blissfully unaware of the agony you previously awoke to if you weren’t sorely reminded by the lingering compression in your ears, an, almost, unbearable pounding ache in your skull, and the paralysis of your limbs. Your shaky breaths sound amplified in your ringing ears as you slowly regain control of your desensitised appendages but the stabbing sensation against your skull persists. It doesn’t appear to want to dull out unlike most continuous pains. In a desperate effort to mute the throbbing, you curl up into the foetal position and focus on your breathing, your hands clutching at the temporal and parietal areas of your head. After a while, there’s some relief. Sweet relief.

The darkness remains as obscure and daunting as you had first awoken to, a dead, unfeeling space — like a black hole. But it can’t be that. It can’t be a black hole. You hope it isn’t, at least. There has to be a way out of here.

With great effort and a groan of pain, you get onto your hands and knees, suffering through agonising aches as you feel about the space around you. All the objects you come into contact with are insignificant, too ordinary for your brain to comprehend and speculate over — though the unrelenting throbbing in your skull may be of probable cause to your lack of analysis — it came with one reassuring thought however, their existence was evidence enough that this wasn’t a black hole…

What poor thoughts.

You’ve never been so vapid. The thoughts swirling in your head were so lacking in cognition and inference that you instinctually shook your head in disappointment. A black hole? Impossible! —Unless you were launched into space in between the meeting with your investors and your journey home. Were you drugged? Taken hostage? If you were then why weren’t your limbs tied up? Eventually, your trembling hands find a wall, a small success that you quickly take advantage of, tracing the perimeter of the boxy room, hoping to find a doorway or vent, anything that could lead you to freedom. You probably look pathetic crawling around but there weren’t any traces of light, even a locked box was more illuminated than this.

Your rambling thoughts continue, a distraction from the throbbing in your skull, until you feel it. A break in the wall, the border to a door. You didn’t waste any time and ignored all pains to stand and feel out the space for the doorknob, leaning your weight against the wooden entrance to alleviate your weak limbs. Disoriented and brainless — were you terribly hungover or something? More speculations, more unanswered questions but finally a release to freedom! The door relented and gave way as you finally found its handle, pushing down with your weight and tumbling towards freedom.

The light burned your eyes and made you tear up but the relief of liberty was soothing. The throbbing, stabbing pains in your skull were now replaced by a reeling dizziness and it throws you off balance. But your hand catches the wall to steady you while your other clutches at your head; your disorientation grows and grows. It feels like you were tied to the end of a string and spun around as the length of the string gradually increases, giving the sensation of your mushy brain being stretched out. What in the world have you done to be put through this amount of distress and trauma?

Curling your fingers into your head, you try to distract from the sickening dizziness with grounding pain and search for repose but are given none. Just as your nails begin to claw at your scalp as your other hand gropes at unfamiliar, drab wallpaper, a voice calls out to you. It’s small and confused, full of light and youth — it’s a child’s voice.

“Mother?…”

Turning to the hesitant call, you lock eyes with steel grey pools. It’s a little boy. Maybe eight to nine years of age. He has beautiful short black hair, pale skin and angular features but childishly soft cheeks. His formal-like dress and perfect posture makes him look like a little prince. You don’t answer him right away; too distracted with your curious surveillance so he calls to you again with furrowed brows and the same title on his tongue, ‘mother’.

He was talking to you. Strange…

“Did you just call me ‘mother’?” you ask, he doesn’t answer and you try not to wince, still very light-headed and muddled, “Why?”

“Because you are my mother,” the stare he affixes you with makes it obvious that he thinks you’re a crazy person. No, but he’s the crazy one!

“Are you okay mother?” another, almost identical looking boy walks up and stands beside the first. He, too, has beautiful black hair and pale skin but with much softer features so he must be younger than the first. They wear a similar attire —another little prince. Two little princes, brothers, that view you as their mother.

But that’s impossible…

The younger of the two has an air of politeness surrounding him as he watches you with empathy swimming in his grey pools. In clear objection to the compassion his younger brother was willing to give you, the eldest child subtly squints at your crumpled and distressed figure.

“I don’t have children…” your weak voice states but fails to continue, bewildered but confident in the fact although it breaks your heart. It just slipped out and now the two boys were stiff and tense from head to toe.

Quickly shaking off his rigid limbs, the older brother scowls at you, “as much as we don’t want to be your children, we are!” his tone his biting as he speaks with a snarl, his pristine white teeth bared for defence and attack. With stomping footfalls, the duo run away, fleeing your sight in a blur of blacks, whites and greys. As soon as they’re gone, your dizziness hits you once more, like a boulder to the head, and sends you collapsing into the ground.

Again, your world goes pitch black.

2nd August 1971

There’s no spiralling darkness when you next wake up, nor is there an abundance of lamplight to make your eyes tear up, instead, beautiful golden rays of sunlight fall through the tall glass windows behind you. It was a much easier radiance to adjust to. You’re tucked away in bed, silky, comfortable and perfectly warm. Perhaps yesterday was just a dream, a very vivid dream— no, a nightmare. You let out a groan and squeeze your eyes shut. No matter how long it’s been, your thoughts of failure and self hatred over your own incompetence still haunts you. Curling up under the covers, you go through the breathing exercise your therapist imbued into you.

Acknowledge it, accept it, let it go…

The phrase repeats in your head several times. The longer you rehearse it, the more your limbs unfurl until you’re flat on your back once more.

…rigid.

Now that you think about it, was your bed always this…stiff?

Blinking in confusion, your eyes focus on the ceiling and widen. You don’t have a chandelier in your bedroom. Your eyes quickly jump down and examine the bed you lay in. This wasn’t your bed, no. Where were your Hedwig and Niffler plushies? Your all-white sheets were gone and replaced by all-black covers. It was then that you finally comprehend the cool sensation laying against your forehead, jolting your body forward, you let out a yelp of surprise as the small soaked towel falls from your brow.

Your shocked shriek is almost matched by the bawling that accompanies it, drawing your eyes to a being you’ve only seen in movies. The small house-elf stares at you with shaking, blood-shot eyes and unaltered terror folded into his wrinkly expression. Endless apologies fall from his mouth, sincere and all underpinned by intense anxiety. He’s so real; his small, skeletal-like chest rapidly moving up and down due to his desperate pants. His three-dimensional existence quickly falls and kneels before you to commence grovelling, his shaking hands held together in prayer.

“...Kreacher…” you gape at the house-elf, eyes wide and breath caught in your throat. In disbelief over the elf’s actuality, you reach out for him, awestruck and so dazed that you almost miss how he flinches away from your approaching touch. Apologetic, you retreat your hand and adjust yourself to sit against the headboard before addressing him, “I-I wasn’t going to hit you…”

“Kreacher is needing to be hit, mistress,” the contrite house-elf voices, twiddling his thumbs as he remains knelt down.

Mistress…?

“Please stand, Kreacher,” you neglect to perceive his surprise in your use of the word ‘please’ as you’re still in awe of him yourself. With a subtle shake of your head, you do your best to push away your astonishment in search of answers, “and fetch me a mirror,”

Kreacher promptly clicks his fingers and a handheld mirror appears before you. You try not to awe at the demonstration of magic — it's a simple spell in this world — and proceed to take it in your hesitant hands. Judging from what you have been able to gather, Kreacher calling you mistress and the two young boys addressing you as mother…Walburga Black should be the reflection staring back at you. However, you don’t see a black-haired, cold-eyed, pale-skinned woman, with a constant frowning wrinkle on her brow, you see yourself. You touch your face just to make sure you weren’t mistaken. It is you.

Was this just a vivid dream? It feels so real…

Mirror set aside, you look back at Kreacher and are astonished once more at seeing just how alive he is. His mannerisms were completely authentic and he was solid from all sides. There’s no mistaking that he’s right in front of you, tangible and no longer fictional.

What wonders the mind can achieve when you fangirl and nerd out enough over something… But why aren’t you in the Lightening era timeline? And why are you in Walburga’s shoes? Now you’re the mother of Sirius and Regulus Black… The questions don’t stop, nor do the conjectures. Maybe it’s your mind trying to get over your life’s trauma vicariously through your favourite series and fandom… the notionmade some sense. You, not only, have one son but two. Should you feel elated or anxious?

As your thoughts continue, the apologies falling from Kreacher’s lips slowly get louder and louder until you snap out of your spaced-out state. Guilt quickly gathers in your stomach at the realisation that Kreacher had been vocally repentant this whole time and you haven’t yet acknowledged him in the slightest.

“What are you apologising for, Kreacher?” you finally ask, putting a stop to his penitent speech.

“Kreacher did not realise mistress had the sickness; Kreacher did not serve her well,” his tone was incredibly apologetic and there was no mistaking the panic in his eyes.

“...It’s alright Kreacher,” the reassurance in your voice was something the house-elf was not used to and you almost smile at the explicit amazement in his eyes, “I did not know that I was ill, myself, so thank you for taking care of me when I fainted,” your warm smile confuses the house-elf but you continue. Even though this is a dream, you were going to do things right, “it was you who took care of me, correct?”

His astonishment doesn’t leave his eyes as he nods, slack-jawed and meek, “yes..it was Kreacher, mistress,”

You nod in approval and spot a plate of food in your periphery, set neatly atop the bedside table, “thank you, Kreacher. You are dismissed,” the bashful but, still, misery-stricken house-elf goes to say something, glancing over at the bedside table but you promptly cut him off, “I will eat the food you prepared shortly, thank you, again,”

With a simple nod, Kreacher disappears in a blink and you slowly bring the plate of breakfast onto your lap. Eating in bed, you digest your situation and take in your surroundings. This was all a very realistic dream but a dream nonetheless. And it was a chance for you to, not only do right by the characters you adore but make peace with your past and present. This was a second chance. Even if it was only a dream.

Just as you finish up your plate of breakfast, you also conclude your examination of the supposed ‘master bedroom’ and frown. The disapproval is clear in your furrowed brows, narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

Whoever designed this room needs to be demoted…or fired.

The Blacks were such a wealthy family, surely they had more saved up to be able to hire a decent interior designer. The colours blended into each other and no furniture, wallpaper or trinket could bring you any emotion other than despair. With that disappointing thought and a grimace at the, overall, sombre decor of the room, you turn to place your clean plate back on the nightstand when a rolled up piece of paper catches your eye. Innocuously folded and tucked to the left of where your breakfast plate once laid was a newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Hurriedly exchanging your plate and utensils for the paper, your anticipation rose to witness the infamous articles and its moving pictures. You almost couldn’t stop the schoolgirl giggle from escaping your smiling lips. Never before had you been so excited to read the paper.

Unfolding the pages, you awe at the front cover before quickly skimming the rest of the folio. It’s the real thing and it’s so detailed…even for a dream.

It was written in clear script on the top, right hand side of the front page. 2nd August 1971. There was no doubt in your mind now that you were just about to enter the Marauders era timeline. If you weren’t mistaken, this was the summer leading up to Sirius’ first year at Hogwarts, which meant that, as his mother — the notion was still abnormal to you but also incredibly heartwarming —, you had a duty to help him fetch his school supplies for Hogwarts. You would also have the honour of seeing him receive his own wand before helping him buy his uniform robes and other necessities. You would even help him pack his bags for Hogwarts, congratulate and celebrate his achievements with him, wish him a good day, support him unconditionally… everything a loving and present mother would do. And, of course, you would treat Regulus the same way. It makes your heart sing and butterflies flutter about in your stomach; you get to be a mother.

—one moment…

If the date is correct in the newspaper and you’re right in that Sirius would be attending Hogwarts in a month’s time, then why did he appear one to two years younger than what an eleven-year-old should look like?

Pondering over the question makes you grimace. It’s entirely possible that it could be Walburga and Orion’s doing, Sirius definitely has a defiant manner about him despite only being eleven years of age and it wouldn’t be abnormal to expect the Black couple to be callous towards their own sons, enough to, somehow, stunt their growth. With a click of your tongue and a roll of your eyes, you eagerly move on from the topic and observe the front page more closely only for your breath to stutter and catch in your throat.

A moving picture of the harrowing dark mark being cast over a house plays in a loop before you. Reading the associated article, you feel your stomach turn in on itself. It was such a disgusting display.

“How cruel…” Your disgust morphs into sorrow as you read over the killings made within the specific house. It belonged to innocent muggleborns and their family members, both magic folk dubbed as blood traitors and their muggle family were massacred. It was clearly an attack meant to bring fear and terror to muggle borns and the pureblooded witches and wizards that dare protect them - all in the name of the dark lord and his bigoted agenda.

What a load of bullshit.

Not stopping for long, you read interview quotes from blood purists showing their support over the act. Their only reason was that they feared losing their pureblood traditions entirely to muggleborns. The horrific, terroristic happenings all appear to follow after the election of a muggle born Minister of Magic (Nobby Leach), the induction of Dumbledore as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and then the introduction of Voldemort last year. It’s deplorable that that’s all it takes for blood purists to excuse such radical operations —it’s inhumane.

“‘The Ministry continues to spare no effort’,” you read under your breath but frown despite the reassuring words, “I bet those Deatheaters get a real ego boost from that statement…” if you remember correctly, Voldemort was enlisting more Deatheaters as well as magical creatures. However, those who are seen as ‘inferior’ were made to suffer, namely Goblins and House-elves. It doesn’t sit well with you.

The fact that the fantasy world around you — one that you’re an avid fan of — feels so incredibly real, despite it being a dream, suddenly looks very bleak makes your chest tighten. And you quickly find yourself agonising over the lives of many children across the country, both in the muggle and wizarding world, being filled with unhappiness and gloom purely because of the selfish and bigoted adults that are supposed to protect them.

You click your tongue bitterly. Only a terf could write or imply something so tragic in a supposed children’s book…

Just as you set down the newspaper and lean back against the headboard, Kreacher materialises at your bedside and begins to clear away your plate and paper. You shoot him a smile of thanks that he has a mixed reaction to. Before disappearing, he observes your state once more, dull eyes searching for something. When he returns a moment later, he’s carries with him a slim vial filled with a red, almost-pinkish liquid that contained ascending bubbles. Carbonated? It looked like a normal drink — like a brightly dyed, flavoured tea or sports drink.

With eyes of fascination, you carefully take the potion vial from Kreacher. You were about to take your first ever magical potion and you plan on savouring every moment of it, even the moments leading up to drinking it. Slowly turning the vial in your hand, you realise that the consistency of the liquid isn’t as light as water; it was a little thicker.

“It’s a healing potion mistress,” Kreacher explains at your bedside, hunched over with his features scrunched up into a permanent scowl, “for the hot fever, mistress,” you give him a small, grateful smile for the explanation. It’s been a while since someone has been proactive when it came to caring for your wellbeing; it made you feel better knowing that Kreacher was around to take care of your needs, disregarding that it was an obligation he couldn’t escape from. Being a successful woman in commerce didn’t mean you were successful in all aspects of life. You still needed to be cared for. This was a welcomed compassion you were going to take full advantage of.

“Thank you Kreacher,” you swiftly uncork the vial and down the potion like a shot, not expecting it to taste so revolting, “Ugh! That’s horrid!” you cough and feel tears surface. This was supposed to be your dream so why did you come up with something so foul-tasting?! You’ve never tasted anything so disgusting! You can’t even begin to describe the flavour —it’s too foul for words!

Shaken up by your amplified reaction, Kreacher begins to shake but explains that it’s how all healing potions tasted, “there are other potions with the baddest tastes mistress,” you try to shake away the repulsive flavour but have no such luck and turn to Kreacher with a plea.

“Water? Please?” with a snap of his fingers, a cool glass of fresh, crisp water appears and you immediately reach out to drink it. The repulsive taste on your tongue dilutes the more you drink but it doesn’t fully lift off your taste buds. Even after drinking the entire tall glass of water, the awful taste of the healing potion lingered — you couldn’t even feel relieved from the feverish headache that left you.

The healing potion had worked its purpose and you were up and about 12 Grimmauld Place, taking in its dismal but elegant interior, opulent decor and its many rooms. You didn’t know what to expect. It was evident how wealthy the Black Family was in their expensive tastes but that didn’t necessarily translate into aesthetic arrangements. When you watched the movies, it was understandable how dilapidated it was but, despite currently being lived-in, it still looked dull. All rooms appeared the same and began to blend into one another the more you moved around. You still awed at the realistic display of the place, however; it all felt so real, as if your surroundings breathed with life and every ornament, wall and structure had its own individual heartbeat. Just the thought made your heart race. This was once a purely fictional setting and now, your dream brought it to life and you were fully encapsulated - happily so.

One room that held your attention far better than all other rooms of the house combined was the home library. It was majestic, regal and old — a charming space that you were eager to explore. Its many shelves were lined with an assortment of books, many containing magical knowledge such as light magic and dark magic, which was surprising when considering the Black family’s preference for dark magic. What wasn’t surprising was the amount of books detailing traditional wizard and witch rituals, dates, holidays and more. Purebloods and their need for the maintenance of customs and ceremonies, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. You expected there to be more books on dark magic but most were on the history of the wizarding world and its many traditions, some of which you had never seen or heard mention of in the Harry Potter book series, movies or games.

Your mind was very creative and you were quite proud of yourself for it.

Time passes you as the pages of many books are skimmed by your eyes. You have no idea how much time ticks by as you consume book after book, flicking through pages before being interrupted by a rapid knock at the door succeeded by the entrance to the library being hurriedly pushed open.

“Mother,” Regulus pants with softly flushed cheeks. His head of curls were a hint messier than the last time you met eyes with him, however, he was still dressed more formally than how a normal ten year old boy should be dressed. It was then, however, that you realised your greatest, influential role — a role that’s far more important than being the head of your company. You’re a mother now. A mother to two gorgeous and darling sons, who deserve all the love in the world. It made tears well up in your eyes. Your subconscious had realised your truest, purist desires and brought it to you in a dream through your beloved fictional characters, ”M-mother?” snapping out of your trance, you realise Regulus had been waiting for you to signal that it was okay for him to speak but hadn’t yet.

“Yes?” Your soft voice appears to catch him off-guard but he’s quick to recover and steel his features.

“I apologise for coming to you late, Mother,” he begins, remaining at the door with his shoulders straight and expression level despite the anxiety for his mistake clearly showing in his eyes. He’s still slightly panting but endeavours to explain himself quickly for your expediency.

“It’s alright, darling, take your time,” you offer a kind smile that he doesn’t know how to respond to. And, instead of assuring him, you seem to have only made him more fearful.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, Mother, it was entirely my mistake. It won’t happen again, I swear!” he pleads with tearful eyes and a quivering lip. His small voice raises in volume no matter how much he tries to control it and eventually has to stop talking altogether just so he could gather himself.

“Regulus, you’ve done nothing wrong,” your words have such a profound effect on him that he stills, completely frozen in time from shock and confusion, “what were you going to say originally, darling?” ‘darling’… the endearment slips you so naturally and it doesn’t even bother you — this really was your heart’s truest desire.

Regulus takes a few minutes to himself, trying to find his voice and swallowing to wet his gone-dry mouth in order to speak without his voice cracking, which would have an ill demonstration of the Black family’s standing, “I, once again, apologise for my lateness, mother. I did not realise you would be in the family library rather than your study today,” it’s clear he’s still quite flustered from his earlier frantic search for your wandering form as he was still faintly panting under his breath. You raise a gentle hand and, paired with your soft smile, you silently assure him to take his time once more. He appreciates the unusual consideration and leniency from his typically stringent mother, “as per usual, I am here to update you on the progress of my home studies. I’ve read through all the chapters you wanted me to read and had written notes appropriately, complete with summary paragraphs…”

You don’t speak as you observe the sweet boy before you, his shoulder pulled back and chin held squarely as if he was a soldier, a man of rigorous instruction rather than the innocent young boy he was supposed to be. As you stare with an unknown and unfamiliar look in your eyes, Regulus tenses up, slowly backing into the hallway once more. His mother is a woman of few words but would usually hum along in approval to his list of completed tasks — it was a trivial gesture of favour that he eagerly sought after, wanting nothing more than to seek your acceptance. Complete and utter silence could either be dangerous or harmless. The potential risk made the hairs on his arms raise. The poor boy didn’t know what to make of your bizarre mannerisms lately. His heart raced to new heights and his throat felt even more closed up than usual.

Slowly, you walk up to him and kneel down, love and fondness clear in your gentle eyes. However, it was such a rare emotion for Regulus to see in his mother’s eyes that he tensed up more at the stare, no matter how affectionate and warm.

It has to be a trap, somehow…

Your gentle hand reaches up and cups his cherubic cheek, one of the few remaining demonstrations of his youth. Plumper, you need to fill in his cheeks, make them softer and more rounded; you’ll stop at nothing to get them to that state as soon as possible. With your thumb, you lovingly stroke his cheek and smile with all the love welling up in your chest. Your features are soft with the warmth and affection you wanted to convey beyond words. This is the first time Regulus has ever seen his mother look so kind. He’s never seen it before —it looks nice. His mother looks pretty now. He really hopes this isn’t a trap.

Innate maternal love and instincts overwhelm you. And, after a moment, you take the plunge. You pull him into your arms and embrace his slim, short figure, pressing your face into his hair as you tuck his face into your shoulder. Finally, you have your own son, and you’re going to love him with all your heart. In your mind, you vow to all deities you would care for him like no other, even if in a dream.

“A dream come true,” you say in a voice dripping with tears. Faintly, you hear Regulus ask for what you mean, muffled from how you have his face buried into your shoulder, “having a son like you, it’s a dream come true…”

Regulus can’t believe his ears as a warmth spreads through his chest, rapid and, like a blossoming array of wild flowers, it’s accompanied with the purest happiness he’s ever felt in his short life so far. He doesn’t know what to say, speechless from your words, words that he’s never before heard from his mother. He’s wished so many times for such a scenario to come true that he can’t quite believe that it’s happening to him now.

—BANG!

Sirius stands at the end of the hall, glaring ferociously at the scene happening before him, a bitter emotion consuming his small form at the words he hears and he promptly storms off. But you’re too quick with your lengthier strides and desire to reach him before he goes too far. Without a second thought, you hug the eldest brother to your chest too. You’ve pulled him as close to you as possibly could despite his protests and attempts at pushing you away.

With a stern voice, you speak up against his thrashing form, “Sirius, do not get aggressive with me,”

“I don’t care!”

“You will care because you’ll end up hurting someone and or yourself one day, if you keep this up!”

Sirius is flooded by shock at your response and he freezes up. His mother never cared whether or not he or anyone else got hurt, so long as they succumbed to her ridiculous demands. He can’t recognise his own mother anymore. Taking full advantage of his paralysed state, your hold turns gentle and you begin to comb your fingers through his inky locks.

“Breathe...” you try to calm him down by gently petting the back of his hair down and occasionally running your nails along his scalp, “talk to me…what’s upset you?” looking up, you see Regulus a metre or two away with a curious look on his face, a mix of amazement, curiosity and caution. Sirius doesn’t respond so you gently prompt him, pulling away to meet his conflicted eyes, “darling?”

Sirius is stunned into silence and doesn’t know what to say, he’s in complete denial over what’s happening – this can’t be his mother, “did you hit your head or something?” he accuses in a snappy tone and you step back, a wave of realisation washing over you. Before this, Sirius and Regulus were pushed around by Walburga daily, abused and tortured in an attempt to conform to her ways. It breaks your heart but also fills you with determination. Even though this is just a dream, you will make the proper changes and treat them kindly. They deserve a loving mother, one who supports them and loves them unconditionally. As you part your lips to voice something, you feel an ominous presence enter the hallway.

When you look up and over your shoulder, your eyes meet liquid mercury, swirling with anger and paired with the deepest frown. Orion Black approaches from behind you, his footsteps daunting and seeming to echo through the shaking walls of the hallway as he fixes Sirius with a cold glare. His own son, who’s only 11 years old.

“What is going on here?” Orion demands but completely ignores you when you try to explain. Your husband’s focus stubbornly remains on your son, the accusation and wrath in his eyes aggrandised. He continues to bark at Sirius, who looks at the floor in quiet shame and with bitten lips. You know he’s terrified but still tries to appear strong, knowing that if he cried out and showed weakness through pained anger in front of his parents, they would use it as ammunition to berate and abuse him further, “don’t you dare talk to your mother that way again, Sirius!”

Orion raises his wand to punish him but you hurriedly step in the way and tuck Sirius’ face into your stomach. Chin over your shoulder, you meet eyes with your husband andtry to keep from snarling at him lest your true intentions and change of heart come to light and raise red flags, “this is between me and Sirius, I will deal with his punishment myself,”

Sirius doesn’t know whether he should be fearful or relieved. That emotion is so foreign to him, especially when it comes to his mother and talks of punishment. Thankfully, Orion lets the situation go and nods curtly before walking back to his study with a huff, muttering about wasted time on his ‘useless son’ under his breath.

“My punishment is to eat dinner in my room…” the brothers share a confused look, “usually, it’s to have no dinner and no breakfast…”

“Or worse…” Regulus’ words make them both shiver; a cold chill runs up their spines and inspires dark memories to surface. Un-welcomed, they shake their heads and banish the remembrance.

Diverting the topic altogether, Sirius picks at his food, “what do you think happened to her?”

“Mother?” Regulus asks and receives a confirming nod, “I don’t know…Kreacher told me–” Sirius pulls a face at the friendship his brother has fostered with the elf, “that mother had a terrible fever yesterday and fainted after we saw her in the hallway,”

Sirius thinks for a moment and chews a little longer than usual, ruminating over the new information, “you think that’s what made her like that?”

Regulus shrugs his small shoulders, “that’s the only thing I could think of…” the youngest brother slowly begins to lose himself in thought, thinking back to when his mother embraced him tenderly and whispered such lovely, affirming words beside his ear.

‘A dream come true… having a son like you, it’s a dream come true…’

“You like the change?” Sirius snaps his little brother out of his daydream and Regulus flushes in slight embarrassment, avoiding his older brother’s disapproving eyes. Or was that disappointment? Maybe something else?

“She’s much nicer now…”

“It won’t last forever,” Sirius says roughly, bitterness and disbelief evident in his voice as his brows furrow; he doesn’t want to believe that his mother, one of the two people responsible for hurting him and his little brother day in and day out, could have the capacity to change overnight, “you’ll see…”

Regulus doesn’t want to believe his brother but how could he deny such a pragmatic expectation? His older brother is right. It’s unrealistic for him to believe in such a miracle. Nevertheless, there was a troublesome ray of hope that warmed the depths of his chest and clenched around his beating heart with purpose. It was immature to be so optimistic but he can’t help hoping.

And, he’d never admit it out loud but… Sirius was hopeful too.

3rd August 1971

You’re astonished at how long this dream has stretched on for. You’ve been able to finish the previous day, fallen asleep beside your husband and rose the next day to have breakfast with your darling boys, served by Kreacher. And now, you’re happily immersing yourself in the home library once more.

Amazed, you consume the contents of the book in your hand, you’ve never come across such information in the Harry Potter books, movies or games. It’s so novel! You feel bubbling excitement rise from deep within you, enchanted and equally awestruck from your imagination, even in sleep. You should be a fanfiction writer!

“I can’t believe how detailed and long this dream is continuing on for…” you mutter to yourself, beginning to smile at your luck before you’re harshly interrupted.

“This isn’t a dream you insufferable muggle!” a shrieking shrill scream echoes in your head and makes you wince. In a weak attempt at soothing the ache, you grasp at your temple with a hand. The throbbing discomfort the voice induces is equivalent to the same pain you experienced when you first woke up in that pitch black room, only, not as intense. The memory makes you wince even more and you wonder if the increase of pain was a type of phantom hurt brought on by your own thoughts.

“Wh-wha-?” you do your best to collect yourself but the wailing voice is unrelenting and perpetuates the pounding in your head.

“To hell with that ritual! What. Happened?! This wasn’t supposed to be the result! Explain yourself, you filthy muggle woman! HOW DARE YOU TAKE MY PLACE!”

With staggering realisation, all the pieces click together in your head and you’re stunned into silence as the raging voice of the villainess woman continues to demand answers in your head. Her voice is piercing but is dulled out by your curiosity and rising triumph.

“You’re saying this is real?...”

“Yes! You Filthy Muggle! Whatever you’ve done, reverse it now and allow me to return to my place!”

“...No,” your firm voice counters, a slow smirk gradually tugging at your lips. She goes silent, probably speechless at the audacity a ‘muggle’ has to disobey her demands, “I’m staying,” you threaten, “and I’m going to do right by your sons by giving them the life and mother they deserve—”

“You will do no such thing!” Walburga shouts once more in your head; this time, you don’t mind the throbbing pain it induces, “They are my sons and they—!”

“Not anymore bitch,” you grin deviously, “they’re my sons now,”

NEXT. | 02 : SHOPPING (1/2) →

A/N : this is my attempt at a fix it fic inspired by one of my favourite genres in webtoons etc - reincarnation/isekai/time travel do-overs, wish me luck! i hope i do a good job! ALSO! I'd like to express a special thank you to my dearest friend @thebestofoneshots for being such a darling and taking time out of her day to beta-read this first chapter for me, she's been such a sweetheart and was the one who helped motivate me to finish the first chapter! i don't think i would have been able to post this first chapter without her. i love you so much my darling! please go and support her by reading her work, commenting and reblog her work too! she deserves all the love in the world! and she writes so beautifully too! you won't regret it!

NAVI. | SERIES MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88

SERIES TAGLIST OPEN

#marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #harry potter marauders #marauders era #the marauders era #sirius black #regulus black #the marauders #walburga black #the black brothers #orion black #DOB #Divorcing Orion Black #marauders fix-it-fic #reader insert #fem reader #marauders

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obsessive-valentine · 5 months

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I just adored your mad scientist hc post and was wondering what their life would be like. Like would y/n go to school? Would they be allowed friends? Would the scientist ever seek out a mother figure for his child? (Or make one himself???) I'm srry if this is a ramble I just love platonic yandere fics lmao.

Platonic!Mad-Scientist + Experiment!Reader (PT2)

We love rambling around these parts anon, the best ideas come from conversations ❤️

Some world building of life after escaping the lab with platonic mad-scientist. TW brief mention of murder

Life would be pretty simple in the little terrace house on the quiet part of town, the house is kept clean and homely a very harsh contrast to the office he lived in for most his life back at the lab. He still collects specimens, making his home office like a little museum - he also still fiddles with things making odd inventions from the locals scrap.

In fact that’s how you both have become beloved members of the community, he offered to fix something for a neighbour and did such a good job people sought him out. He also makes things for you, like how you loved music so he’d fix up music boxes or how you loved a certain animal or bug that he made a little mechanical figure of it that swam/flew/walked.

He wouldn’t see the point in letting you go to school though, despite how friendly the people are, mostly because he’s smarter than any teacher they have; he’s practically a genius when it comes to math, science and history. But it’s also because he doesn’t want you becoming to independent.

Despite not going to school you’re still seen by the towns people-very often- when you tag along with the scientist when he’s running errands or shopping. You’re always well dressed, good manners and happy so there aren’t any suspicions, if anything, admiration for such a dedicated father. Most of your ‘friends’ are the older people who run the shops, there’s not many opportunities for you to play with other kids your age and he makes sure of that.

Definitely takes you to the pictures and restaurants often, probably a weekly thing or more. I mean he’s basically retired due to being payed plenty during his days in the government labs, so aside from small favours for the towns people and personal hobbies (dissecting and mechanics probs) he really is just a house father; leaving ample amount of time to take you out on cute little evening dates.

Because he’s so dedicated to your upbringing it’s very unlikely he’ll become romantically involved with a woman and no chance he’d seek it out for himself. He might if it benefited you but truly doesn’t believe you need anyone but him, he’s incredibly smart and not just book smart but emotionally evolved with you, there’s nothing he can’t do that a mother would do for you. He himself isn’t interested in romance but I wouldn’t rule it out completely, just unlikely.

You both spend most mornings doing school work together then he lets you have free time as he cleans or cooks, then in the afternoons he’s usually in his study fixing, building or dissecting and recording in one of his thousands of accumulated note books. He doesn’t mind you sitting with him while he does this or even better helping. After this sometimes you both go into town or if it’s a quiet day you both stay home and cook dinner.

At some point you’re sent to bed, he sticks to a strict bedtime only to be broken on birthdays or holidays. He will tuck you in and read a chapter from the book he bought not so long ago. He doesn’t sleep as much as you, usually he returns to his study or sometimes he sneaks out and gets rid of a certain problem person that’s been a bit rude to you or him, he only tolerates stuff from his darling child who can do no wrong, other than that he does have a bit of a temper. No one will miss a ill-mannered person anyways.

#mad scientist #yandere #yandere oc #+reader #platonic yandere

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nova-amor · 7 months

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𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐮 [𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠], 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 [𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦], 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 [𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥]

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟐.𝟓𝐤

house parties had never really been your thing. all throughout high school and college, you had preferred to stay tucked away in your room, binge-watching a movie series or reviewing lesson sheets while your friends spent their friday and saturday evenings at the nearest party. there had been no strong appeal to spending your nights out drunk, sandwiched between sweaty bodies while the worst techno music overwhelmed your eardrums.

and, it wasn't like your friends made fun of you or tried to pressure you to tag along to such parties either— they had quickly learned to respect your recluse behavior and would often just send you videos or photos throughout the night to keep you in the loop, which you always found enjoyment out of.

so, it definitely came as a shock to everyone when you had willingly volunteered to join them for a night out one random evening. you had elected yourself as the designated driver for the evening, which they had very much appreciated with the rising price increases in third-party riding apps. upon arrival at the party, you had slipped away into the backyard, attempting to escape from the nauseating aroma of cheap booze, sweat, and other foul body odors.

the music was also a bit quieter outside, fewer people to interact with, and a soft golden glow from the porch lights that was just enough to illuminate the texts from the book you were reading. having found peace amongst the chaos of the house party, you were thoroughly enjoying the moment up until it was rudely interrupted by the host.

a ice cold liquid spilled atop your head, a high-pitched screech of surprise eliciting from the depths of your throat as the sickly sweet scent of booze-filled your nostrils. your vision was blurred, your head sweeping left and right before your sight finally landed on the culprit behind you.

“oh, shit, i'm so sorry,” satoru gojo gasped, his artic blue eyes forming into the size of saucers. it was as if he was frozen into place, muscle tensed and pale cheeks heated up with a scarlet tint. “shit, i didn't mean to spill— someone bumped into me and— fuck, i'm so sorry—”

his rambling pissed you off, the back of your hands now stained with the sticky substance of beer and makeup as you wiped your eyes. your hair was soaked in beer, along with your shirt and bra. you glared up at him, streaks of black mascara and eyeliner smudged around your eyes and down your cheeks.

“where's the bathroom?” your voice was icy, laced with venom as you abruptly stood up from the bench. satoru was barely able to slip a word out, his pink lips agape and towering frame dwarfed beneath the intensity of your gaze. he pointed in a random direction upstairs, earning a roll of your eyes and a shove to his shoulder as you brushed past him.

you tore open the sliding door, the gross aroma of alcohol and sweat making your lips curl in disgust as you squeezed through the large crowd. you pushed and shoved past people, earning a few glares and under-the-breath snarls as you made your way upstairs.

finally, finding the bathroom, the golden overhead light illuminated the yellowish splotches that decorated your white t-shirt and smears of your makeup, effectively ruining your evening. as you stripped yourself of your top, there was a sharp knock to the bathroom door before a familiar white-haired man poked his head through the door.

“fuck, i'm so sorry,” satoru apologized as he stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. you peeked at the black hoodie held in his fist while you rubbed a damp washcloth around your cheeks, the act smearing more makeup around than actually removing it. “i'll send you money for the shirt, just tell me how much it was. and, i grabbed you a hoodie, it might be a bit big on you but at least it's better than nothing, right?”

you glanced between the hoodie satoru was clinging to and his eyes. you had never seen satoru look so afraid before, most likely because you rarely got angry at anyone. and, whenever you did, you allowed actions to dictate rather than your words.

“i don't want your money,” you sneered at him, your face finally rid of all your makeup. you tilted your head forward, rinsing your hair beneath the rushing cold water spewing from the faucet. “you can just leave the hoodie on the toilet, thanks.”

satoru gnawed at his bottom lip, fixated on the curve of your back as you bent over the bathroom counter. his gaze was shameless, heat pooling into his pelvis as he inhaled a sharp breath of cold air through his nose. he sat the hoodie down on the basin of the toilet, taking a step closer to you.

“let me help you,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his fingers engulfed yours, aiding you in your attempt to rinse all of the beer from your hair. his pelvis was pressed softly to your behind, his warmth radiating through the layers of fabric between the two of you. “i'm really sorry again, just wanna make it up to you. i'll do whatever it takes, just don't want you t' be mad at me.”

a shiver runs down your spine— either from the weight of satoru's words, the cold water cascading down the sides of your face, or both.

“gojo, stop apologizing,” you said as you peeled your head out from under the water. satoru took a step back to grab a decorated towel, allowing you some space between the two of you. “you don't need to make anything up to me; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do it. it's over, let's be done with it.”

as you wrapped the towel around your head, satoru's hands grabbed at your waist— pressing your back up against the bathroom counter while his legs found their place between yours. one of his hands trailed up the curve of your body, ghosting over the swell of your bra-clad breast before cupping your neck, and gently tilting your head backward. his light blue eyes peered down at you, pupils wavering and enlarged. “are you sure there's nothing i can do to make it up to you?”

you gulped, heart pounding a frantic rhythm as the temperature of the bathroom seemed to rise from his close proximity. "gojo," your voice was breathy, the lingering remnants of anger melting into a puddle within your chest as the pad of his thumb caressed the hinge of your jaw.

“stop calling me gojo, angel,” satoru’s head dipped down, mere centimeters away from your face. it felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore.

“and let me make it up to you the best way i know how,” half-lidded eyes glancing between your lips and your eyes. the tip of his nose brushes against yours, your head growing light from the intensity of the moment. “would you allow that?”

with a soft nod of your head, satoru's lips press against yours— capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips, stealing the very air from your lungs. his hand squeezes at your waist, the lingering sweetness of alcohol flooding your mouth. satoru guides you over to the toilet, his long legs spread out as you sit upon his lap.

the wet sounds of your lips fill the bathroom's void, the booming noise of dance music fading away as you surrender pieces of yourself to satoru. his hand trails up from your neck to cup the back of your head, smushing your faces together while his other hand kneads at the fat of your ass cheek through your jeans.

“fuck,” his voice is deep and raspy, dripping with lust as your lips devour the sides of his neck with scorching hot kisses and licks. you suckle at the space beneath his ear, ripping a long groan from his throat as you nip at the sensitive spot. “fuck— lemme— can i take your pants off, please?”

“no,” you breathe into satoru's ear, your bruised lips brushing against the soft earlobe. your fingers hook onto the waistband of satoru's pants, barely able to tug them down from your position on his lap. “but you can take yours off.”

you snake down to the bathroom, watching with hungry eyes as satoru peels his pants and boxer briefs off, the fabric pooled at his ankles as you kneel in front of him. his cock is long, thick, and veiny— cockhead flushed a rosy shade of pink, oozing pearls of white pre-cum.

a hushed fuck is breathed out through gritted teeth as your soft hands wrap around the base of his cock, pumping his throbbing length with twists and flicks of your wrists. your lips wrap around the head of his cock, tongue lapping up the white globs of pre-cum seeping from the slit. satoru's hips buck up to chase the warm sensation of your mouth engulfing him, his head dipping back to lean against the bathroom wall, whispers of praise and moans bubbling up from the depths of his throat.

“fuck yes,” his voice is soft, his fingers stretched across the back of your head, guiding your mouth up and down whatever inches you allowed your throat to gobble down. “so wet— mouth feels so good— such a good girl f'me— f-fuck, just like that, god you look like a dream—”

his cock pokes at the gummy wall at the back of your throat, tears streaming down your hollowed cheeks as satoru guides your head up and down his cock in languid movements. he twitches against your tongue, your mind spiraling, completely forgetting how vulnerable you two were to getting caught. at any given someone could open the door and catch you in the act, satoru's pitiful hiccups were drowned out by the thumping of the music downstairs.

“stop stop stop,” satoru peels your mouth off his cock, his muscles tensed from his approaching orgasm. he practically melts at the sight of your teary eyes and flushed lips, drool pooling down the edges of your mouth as you look up at him. “don't wanna cum yet... c'mere here, pretty girl.”

satoru helps you from off the floor, heat rushing between your thighs as he pulls down the fabric of your jeans. you don't fight satoru as he twists your body around, guiding your hips back down onto his lap. your legs are stretched over his bare thighs, the sticky girth of his cock flushed against your sex. his dick slips between your soaked lips, cunt drooling all over his length as he teases the pulse of your clit.

the mushroom tip then pushes through your entrance, the delicious stretch of his cock easing its way through your tight ring earning a quivering groan from the man. “god, you feel good around my dick, such a perfect pussy—”

a pleasant buzz settles over your mind, your head tilting back to nestle against his shoulder. “gonna fuck me good, ‘toru?” you tease as satoru guides your hips, lifting your body up and down his length as if you were his personal sex doll. his biceps and thighs flex against you, your pussy desperate to be stuffed full of his cock as he thrusts into your tight heat.

“you fuckin’ know it— g’na give ya the best dick ya ever had, g’na make sure ya remember this forever,” satoru rambles into your ear, affectionate kisses peppered across your neck as a muscled arm snakes around your waist. “squeezin' me so tight, angel; best pussy i've ever had,” he grinds his hips into you, barely able to muster up the strength to pound you properly.

“ya feel even better, ‘toru, fuckin’ love yer cock,” you groan out, his cock nudging against the gummy walls of your cunt, stroking the fire within you just enough to pull pathetic whimpers and moans from you. “yer cock was made f’me, f-fucckk—”

“g'na cum deep inside you, okay? so close, so fuckin' close, pretty girl— need ya t' cum with me, baby, okay?” satoru whimpers, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. you felt like you were on cloud nine, like your soul had drifted out of your body and into the very heavens above.

with your eyes pinched closed, all you can do is nod and gargle out a pathetic series of “yesyesyes”s. satoru's free hand latches to one of your breasts, peeling back the thick layer of your bra to pinch at your nipple. he twirls the sensitive bud between his slender fingers, tugging and pinching at them until their nice and puffy.

the sensitivity of your breasts being fondled and his cock head rubbing at the mind-numbing spot buried deep into your gummy walls tears a scream from your throat as your release submerges you into its depths. satoru tenses up against you, his cock pressed impossibly close against your cervix as a series of curse words ramble from his lips. his cum stains your insides— the thick load spilling out from your sopping cunt and dripping down his balls.

satoru holds you close for a few moments, his labored breaths heating your skin as he presses his sweaty forehead into the back of your shoulder. “holy fuck,” he manages a chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder blade. “let me just stay like this for a little bit more, not ready to pull out just yet, pretty pussy's just too warm.”

you lean against satoru for what feels like an eternity, your tiny sniffles and whimpers filling the air as satoru adjusts your weight atop him. “satoru, we should clean up before someone walks in, we forgot to lock the door,” you manage to say, earning an annoyed huff from the man.

satoru reluctantly pulls out of you, your legs too weak to support your own weight as you lean against the opposing wall. he guides you to take his place on the toilet seat's lid, the plastic warm against your skin as he shuffles around to grab you something to clean yourself with. he settles on the damp cloth you used to wipe your makeup with, his touch attentive and gentle as he kneels before you— making sure to clean every drop of cum and arousal from every crevice and fold of your cunt.

“fuck, look at that,” he murmurs, peeling back at your puffy lips as a white glob of cum seeps out from your entrance. it drools down your slit before pooling on the seat. “what a pretty sight, my cum drippin' out of your cute little pussy.”

you roll your eyes, cheeks puffed out in embarrassment as satoru scoops up the spilled cum. his finger prods at the tight ring of your entrance, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers hook into the walls of your cunt— fucking the wasted seed back into you.

“can't let it all go to waste, right?” satoru gazes up at you, a smug smirk painted across his lips.

“s-satoru, the door—” your hips buck to meet his shallow ministrations, another chuckle bubbling from his lips. he litters kisses along the soft skin of your inner thighs before resting his cheek against the warm skin.

he peers up at you from below, another finger slipping deep inside of you. “i'll make sure to lock the door this time, baby— don't want someone catching a glimpse of what's mine, right?”

maybe parties weren't so bad after all.

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cantwritethetword · 3 months

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Donna, Human, Yes

Fic Descript: During an argument, Donna discovers that the doctor has a rather human weakness. When he insists he's not ticklish, she has to prove him wrong.

~A/N - I RETURN FROM THE DEADDDDDDDDDD

Yes writers blocked kicked my ASS last year (aside from squealing santa, i feel like i did ok with that one hehe) but I'm back with this lil fic.

I watched the Doctor Who specials FINALLY and I cried so many times omfg it was so good to see David Tennant and Catherine Tate back together again being lil chaotic besties through all of time and space, so of course I had to write something for it !!!!

And you are bearing witness to the magic of my adhd meds in action !!! I've been so productive in the last hour it's great !!! (EDIT: didn't write this in an hour, just to be clear. took me a little while but ADHD MEDS WORKED FOR BOTH TIMES YAY)

Just something cute and fluffy af ^^ love you all <3

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @carrie-tate

Masterpost Link

The bond between Donna and The Doctor was certainly one for the ages.

Human words couldn't do justice to the type of bond they had, at least that's what The Doctor claimed in his newer, more openly emotional regeneration. Their love was too strong for just the term of friendship, too close for anything romantically implied, too adoring to be siblings. Even the term soulmates had a particularly selective connotation to it that left a bad taste in The Doctor's mouth.

Nevertheless, it was clear they could hardly live without the other. There was enough love between them to power galaxies, and knowing their history neither would be surprised if it had.

And it was this closeness, this fierce tenderness, that led to discussions such as this. Displays of deep affection half-heartedly disguised behind harsh tones and disgruntled gestures.

"You may be a high and mighty Time Lord, but you're still an idiot." Donna huffed, as the TARDIS finally settled after takeoff.

The Doctor scoffed. "I'll try not to take that to heart, and I thought that escape went quite well!"

"YOU THOUGHT-" Donna stopped herself, breathing deeply to try and contain her shit that was threatening to lose itself. "The only reason we even STARTED to escape was because I PUSHED YOU TO THE EXIT!"

"Well yeahhhh..." The Doctor rolled his head, letting his eyes drift away from his companion's. "But-."

"But NOTHING." Donna interjected. "It's the same thing every time! You start running your mouth and saving the day, and that's wonderful, but you don't know when to stop!"

"Donna I-"

"Let me finish." She snapped, raising a pointed finger towards him and stepping closer.

The Doctor held his hands up in front of him with a gentle nod of the head.

"You drag yourself through hell, running and ranting and... and sonic-ing!"

A small snicker escaped The Doctor, but he straightened his face almost instantly after when her angry look didn't waver.

"You can't control yourself!"

He didn't dare argue.

"I always have to pull. your. arse. out.!" She accentuated each of the last words with a corresponding poke to The Doctor's torso.

And while she expected the pokes to help get her point across, she definitely was not expecting the almost childish giggle that spilled out of his mouth. Or the awkward jerk his body made to cover the ribs she had prodded.

But Donna wasn't stupid. She didn't waste any time in a state of surprise, no she jumped straight to (correct) conclusions.

"Oh no way." She grinned, creeping closer to the now incredibly flustered Time Lord.

"Now Donna," The Doctor began, his mouth twitching upwards in a nervous smile of self-betrayal. "You don't know what this is."

Donna gave a singular breathy chuckle. "Nice try sunshine, but you're not yapping your way out of this one."

"There are countless reasons why... why I would... flinch away from you like that!" He continued rambling.

"I know ticklish when I see it sweetheart." She smiled sweetly, though there was nothing sweet about the predatory glint in her eyes.

"What?!" The Doctor tensed, almost frozen in place at the mention of the word. Though quickly forced himself back into talking his way out of the situation in a faux-calm tone. "Uh, Doctor, Time Lord, no."

She smirked, stepping closer to him.

"Donna," she paused, reveling in just how much she was getting to him. "Human," she paused again, less than a few feet away from him. "Yes."

And then she lunged.

Her hands met his sides and The Doctor curled inwards, his arms tangling themselves in a fruitless effort to push her away.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sounds of Donna's fingertips clawing against the fabric of The Doctor's shirt, before he finally cracked.

Bubbly giggles spluttered out of The Doctor's chest as he folded forwards, allowing Donna to slip behind him and trap him in a bear hug. His knees slowly buckled, and (with no chance at keeping someone his height upright by herself), Donna followed his squirming body to the floor.

"Dohohohonnahaha!" He squeaked between bouts of helpless laughter, but her name was barely comprehensible amongst the childish noises she tickled out of him. "Ihihihi-!... wahahai-!... stahahaha-!..."

She chuckled, rolling her eyes as her hands climbed up into his armpits. "What was that?"

He couldn't reply with anything other than a squeal, writhing for a few seconds before his body finally submitted to the playful torture. He tried to splutter a few words out, but nothing could make its way through the torrent of giggles currently occupying his voice box. THe man had gone practically limp, aside from his hands which were still seized up like a tyrannosaurus rex.

"I never thought I'd see the day..." Donna shook her head in amusement as she skittered her fingernails around his collarbones. "That anyone would render you speechless."

"DOHOHOHON-! WAHAHAI-! IHIHIHI-!"

She laughed again. "Keep trying space man."

"IHIHIHI-! CAHAHAHA-!" He chortled, his hands suddenly free enough to slap themselves to his cheeks to cover his embarrassment.

"Whaaaat~?" She teased, rapidly poking him in one side while squeezing the other.

"IT TIHIHICKLES!" He somehow blurted out, before breaking into cackles as Donna transitioned to dual-hand squeezing. "DONNA PLEHEHEASE!"

It was Donna's turn to cackle, though hers was much shorter and much more controlled of course. "It tickles, does it? I had no idea."

Aside from the odd jolt when Donna hit a particularly sensitive spot, The Doctor had gone practically limp. All that laughter had fully sapped his energy, and he was leaning his back against Donna's chest to keep himself upright.

Taking her chance, Donna once again decided to change her position to further destroy the man. Sliding back from under him (taking care he wouldn't fall back and whack his head on the TARDIS floor - she wasn't that cruel), Donna pulled his arms from covering his face and stretched them above his head.

In his state of ticklish delirium, The Doctor didn't quite notice what was happening. Assuming she had finally taken pity on him, he focused on catching his breath with a stupid grin still stuck to his face.

That was until the moment her shins pinned his arms to the floor.

He locked eyes with her, now fully aware of just how screwed he was. With Donna kneeling above him, she had full access to the armpits she had assaulted with ticklish claws just moments ago.

"Nononono Donna you can't!" He begged, legs kicking wildly with every word. "You'll kill me!"

She shrugged, "You'll regenerate." before putting her typing skills to good use and pitter-pattering her fingertips against his underarms.

The Doctor clamped his mouth closed, thrashing his head to one side with his eyes screwed shut in a soon-to-be vain attempt to not react to the unbearable sensations radiating through his body. But even a mighty Time Lord could only hold out for so long.

After less than ten seconds (which The Doctor would later argue was a rather impressive length of time), he crumbled. The childish, high-pitched giggles returned and he was once again a mess beneath Donna's touch.

"Oh!" Donna gasped, slowing her fingers in response to the Doctor's slightly wheezy breathing. "And if you do regenerate, I'll be the first person ever to tickle two Time Lords!"

Aside from the occasional titter, The Doctor could finally gain control over himself again. He gulped mouthfuls of air as Donna climbed off his arms, and slowly sat up next to her.

"Not-" He panted, still more than a little out of breath.

Donna chuckled. "Take your time."

"Not tw-" His huffing interrupted again. "Not two."

She gave him a quizzical look.

"Even if I-... regenerate... I'm still the same... singular Time Lord." He corrected. "You've only tickled the one, and to be honest it happened a lot back on Gallifrey so you're not particularly sp-"

She barked a singular laugh, cutting him off. "God, you really don't know when to shut up."

His confusion turned to giggly panic when Donna pushed him back to the floor again and sat on top of his hips. "Nononono Donna not agAIN-!"

#crow's tickle fic #doctor who tickle fic #tenth doctor tickle fic #is the ending kind of abrupt? idk please tell me lol #this was a cute fic tho i like it hehehehehe

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jakes3resin · 1 month

Note

Can you tell us about your other fics if you already have an established plot?

I'd love to! So there's quite a number of them I won't lie. I tend to get inspired by the randomest things. These are all in various stages of plotted out and written.

A/B/O fic (technically turning into 3 fics) that follows Bucky & Buck through the war, described below.

Courting Arc (top of my list to finish writing) - Bucky POV as he is anonymously courted during his time in the states just before he gets sent over to England (there's a post I'm basing my writing around I'll link it in a moment) <- published

England Arc- a quick look into their lives as they run missions with A/B/O elements (this will be pretty short I think) mostly snippets of scenes from the show just now with Omega Bucky and Alpha Buck <- published

Stalag Arc - Omega Bucky and his awful time in Germany. Here is where we see what being an Omega in war is really like in my omegaverse. Bucky is the highest ranked Omega in the camp meaning he's technically 'in charge' of keeping those Omegas in line. He's tested by his heats, keeping his pack together, and finally by a German order that could tear Buck and Bucky apart. This is a big fic for me to prepare for, and I'm building up to it by writing the Courting Arc first <- next on deck

Biker Gale AU (my beloved, genuinely obsessed with this AU) - this was inspired by one of hogans-heroes AUs. So, Gale leads an outlaw-esque biker club, and Bucky used to be his right hand (and lover) except one day out of the blue he just disappeared. Gale does everything he can to find Bucky, but there's no trail to follow, no clues to put together, nothing. Fast forward about two years, Bucky arrives on Curt's doorstep holding a small baby with the brightest blue eyes and prettiest blonde curls and begs Curt to watch his baby for 5 days. 5 days later Bucky comes back in town bruised to all hell with the FBI on his tail with their own nefarious reasons for tracking Bucky down. Bucky has nowhere else to turn especially since when he comes back to Curt's he finds Gale holding his little baby. (This could be A/B/O I haven't decided, but it's definitely at least mpreg)

Amnesia fic - this is based off of a post I made about the effects of Bucky getting hit over the head like 3 times in the span of two days, its... somewhere (edit: here). But its about Bucky waking up with no memory of who he is just before he gets interrogated by the Germans and sent to Stalag Luft III where he meets a man that his heart rejoices at seeing but his mind doesn't recognize. Buck of course has to deal with the love of his life forgetting him.

Magic AU - Bucky is a Scamander and its now everyone's problem to deal with it. The tag to find all of my ramblings for it is magic au (not that Tumblr's tag system works), and @getinthefuckingjaeger just wrote the best ever fic of Bucky and Theseus so go read that.

I've also got a few paragraphs written of Foster Kid Bucky somewhere but that might never see the light of day (that's also from a hogans-heroes AU) where Bucky is a jaded teenager just trying to make it to 18 to get out of his shitty foster placement when in comes Buck whose mother finally divorced his dad, got custody of her kids, and moved to her hometown to escape. It's about a Bright Buck meeting a Jaded Bucky (a flip on their usual dynamics)

Blonde Bucky AU - I wrote a blurb on the Twin Cleven AU post, and the idea of Bucky bleaching his hair on a drunken night out with Curt and Bubbles has haunted me since <- published as well

There might be more? But these are the only ones I can remember off the top of my head right now that are plotted out beyond oh that'd be a good fic. I have a lot of time spent sitting and waiting right now, so I have the ability to write a multitude of fics. I'm happy to talk about any of these fics if you want to come into my inbox or my messages.

#asks #my writing #buck x bucky #clegan

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stagefoureddiediaz · 1 year

Text

Costume Meta 6x15

At first I thought this was going to be an ok length meta this week, having already written two mini metas based on bts pictures and then we didn’t get the download for a million hours and then just to add to the fun - Tumblr decided that I wasn’t allowed to type into a post wehre i’d added photos and then loading photos into a post wasn’t an option so this is the 4th version of this post I’ve had to create but I got there in the end, so I’m sorry its so much later that i would’ve like it to be - I just hope my insane ramblings are worth the wait!

There weren’t actually that many costumes this week but the guest cast had very interesting costumes and there are a million things going on with Buck, Eddie and Christopher so this week’s meta is very heavily skewed towards them!

No Hen this week as she’s only seen in uniform - there was also very little Bobby - just the one costume!

Bobby

Bobby in navy blue actually doesn’t mean much this week - the choice of colour for his shirt is purely there to continue to parallel Bathena and Buddie from the last couple of episodes with the Burgundy and blue we’ve seen. Thank you as always for reading - it really does mean the world to me that you're interested in the costuming of our wee woo show and I love reading your thoughts in the tags and notes!!! I’ll shut up now and let you have your lives back.

Athena

Burgundy ribbed top - stylistically it is in keeping with the other tops we’ve seen her wearing this season. Burgundy isn’t a colour we see on her very often (the last time was in 5x10 at the christmas party and there are only two previous costumes before that), so there was definitely intention to keep the burgundy and blue theme running into this weeks episode. The ribbing is disjointed on this top over the left shoulder, it hints at the idea of Athena not being comfortable with Dominic dying in the back of her police car - its that feeling of something lurking over your shoulder.

The other interesting thing it’s the return of the anchor necklace. We haven’t seen Athena in this necklace since 5x07. This necklace was very heavily connected to family and the idea of family anchoring her and giving her stability while she was in uncertain waters. It was a play on the idea that even when things were turbulent (Michael coming out, the divorce, Jeffery Hudson etc) her family was and is her anchor. The interesting thing about its reappearance here is that we don’t see her with any family aside from Bobby - for a necklace that has been so heavily tied to her extended family their absence in its presence is telling. It could mean some foreshadowing of choppy waters ahead (perhaps to do with Bobby in the finale) alongside her disquiet over this incident.

The leather leather jacket is the same one as we saw her wearing in 6x12 and I spoke in the 6x12 meta how it was very similar to the one we see Athena wear when investigating Eddies shooting and how it, along with Tamara wearing an echo of Bucks outfit in that episode. We have a similar parallel happening in this episode with Christopher’s jumper at Shannon’s grave. To have it reappearing for this scene specifically is telling me to link the scenes - ergo link to the shooting.

For me that link surrounds the idea of mistaken or hidden identities because all three investigations include an element of this theme. The shooting - Ethan covers his tracks so that the police go for his ex partner and we see Athena hiding her identity by dressing as a firefighter to go to Bobbys rescue. In 6x12 Athena and May go undercover (with hidden identities) to try and find out what happened to Wendell, Wendell himself hides his identity to try and help Tamara and the Walshes tried to hide his identity when they set his body on fire. And now we have a case where Dominic tries to escape conviction through a body switch and hiding his identity. I haven’t quite pieced together what exactly this is saying about Bobby and Athena’s overall arc, but there is clearly something at play here.

Chimney

Chim is paralleling Bobby in the dark blue this episode. The Navy shirt help establish the red/blue theme for Madney in the same way Bobby’s polo does for Bathena. It is designed to do the same thing it does for Bobby - shift focus away from him and onto the one in the brighter colour. It is telling us that Maddie is the one we should be focusing on in the scene rather than Chimney and I’ll explain a bit more of that when we get to Maddies section.

The check shirt Chim wears to the IRS appointment clearly fits into check theory very nicely - not only in terms of the appointment itself, but it is part of a bigger piece of foreshadowing for Chimney more generally which appears to be connected to his family because we have seen him in a lot of check pattern this season and it feels like they’re building the tension with it - it is clearly leading to whatever happens to hi in the finale.

This shirt is the same one he wears when he finds Maddie giving Jee-Yun a bath after they all return home from Boston. and because of this it feels like there is something specific connected to this shirt around the idea of finding happiness in the place you’re in - not needing more in the moment than what you have - not pushing for more.

But there is also something connected to the idea of communication - that happiness is found when you communicate with your partner - the moment with Jee in the bath could only happen because Chimney and Maddie communicated which enabled her to return home and start rebuilding her family. The moment at the IRS was a clear indication of Madney not talking in advance, but ultimately coming out of the meeting in a better place - having communicated and reached a mutually happy decision. To me at least this speaks a lot about the marriage arc they are setting up for Madney - that we’re seeing them fail to communicate again, but they will eventually communicate and end up in the right place for them and will find happiness as a result.

Maddie

Maddie’s bright red top pulls our attention - it is far far brighter than Chimneys navy blue shirt and that is intentional - it is mean to make us think of a red flag and highlight to us that Maddie is where our focus should be for this episode. It is signposting us to the fact that in their relationship Maddie is the one who will ahve had dealing s with the IRS before when it comes to being in a relationship - Chimney won’t have had to do it as we’ve never seen him in this type of relationship. Maddie however would’ve had to file jointly when Married to Doug, so her having hangups about the fact the IRS have got in touch probably goes deeper than it just being the IRS getting in touch. It all connects into the theme of their arc for the episode.

It is also important to note the difference in shades of red and blue that Madney are wearing - especially in relation to Bathena. Bathena’s are much closer together in terms of brightness and contrast. Athenas is slightly brighter becasue she is the focus, but it is closer to Bobby than Maddie and Chimneys are. This is a deliberate choice - it highlights the fact that Bathena are essentially on the same page - they are at the same level and in sync. Madney however are not in sync, they are in different places and we see that play out as the episode airs and we see Chimney searching for a ring at the end of the episode - back in his navy blue tee - we should note however that while he is doing that, Maddie is in her uniform - the maroon of her shirt bringing her closer into line with Chimney, but her uniform still provides a barrier - a safety net for her - in much the same way I described her scene with Buck in 6x12 when she is loading up his fridge.

Ok the check blazer is all kinds of fascinating to me. the three different types of tweed check, the denim jacket placket making it look like a jacket over a denim jacket, the fact that Maddie is wearing a jacket - in complete opposition to Chimney who is in just a shirt.

There is something about Maddie wearing yet another jacket that is multi layered. This one looks like a blazer with a denim jacket underneath. This has been a recurring theme for her the season where we’ve seen her wearing blazers with false insert hoodies. We only really see her in these outside of her home environment, and there is something in that which suggests Maddie is feeling insecure in someway whilst outside the comfort of her home.

The false fronts suggest that Maddy is putting up some sort of front as a way of protection outside of the home, that she is hiding here self from the outside world in some way - projecting something false. The general idea of layering is also about protection too so it’s a multilayered (forgive the pun) theme I haven’t figured out exactly what this means yet, but I think the fact that the season is culminating in an engagement arc for Madney suggests to me that her insecurities lie, perhaps, in how she feels the world views her as an unmarried mother and her trauma surrounding that - the wider arc of her PPD is still in play here because her own trauma extends beyond the PPD itself. Maddie is still battling demons in relation to Daniel as well as the demons we know she struggles with in relation to her previous marriage and the trauma she suffered at the hands of Doug

There is something about the idea of her going out into the world fully suited up to defend the fact she isn’t married to Chim, to defend the choices she has made to protect herself and to allow her to continue to heal and her fears that society will judge her for those choices -something that the IRS has (in her mind) proven to be correct.

So you know how we’ve talked about the blue green theming being connected to break ups - Eddie and Ana, Buck and Taylor, well I don’t want to alarm anyone but we saw Madney in the same blue and green colour way!!

I actually don’t think this is going to be about a break up - I think its more connected to a couple of other times we’ve seen these especially dark yet bright shades of green and blue - the scene in 5x09 (with the pink washing up gloves) as well as the scene when Buck tells Taylor about kissing Lucy - and those two scenes connect to the keeping of secrets and the revealing of secrets, the trying to keep things hidden but them ultimately coming out anyway. It is one of the themes of the episode - keeping secrets, and misunderstanding things and struggling with the reality of moving on and forward. We also saw a similar theme at play when Maddie wore that shirt in the 6x13 - her ‘neighbour’ was hiding their identity. So fear not all the Madney shippers, we’re all good - they just need to communicate and sort through a few things - for Maddie it is very much her hang ups about getting married again - she needs to move on from this last piece of Doug’s hold over her and her life and those shirts are helping with that.

Dominic

Dominic was wearing a very similar jacket to Eddies jacket from 5x10 and 6x08. it is not the same jacket, but it is close enough to draw the parallel.

Ok this is a bit hard to explain, but go with me. At first I thought the wardrobe department were just reusing a costume, however some dots have connected and I think there is a larger metaphor at play here. We have to remember that Athena is wearing a jacket that closely resembles the one she wore to investigate the shooting and that the theme of mistaken identities is at play in both storylines as well.

In 5x10 Eddie is talking to Carla about Christophers obsession over having a perfect Christmas then Chris wakes up from a nightmare about his mother.

The second time we see the jacket, in 6x08, it is as Eddie watches Chris make his way into his school dance and talks about being different and fantasy becoming reality.

It’s therefore an interesting choice to have a very similar jacket on a guest character who is trying to hide, to hide his identity and hide the money he embezzled from an organisation with dream in its name all of this is telling me to connect his plot to Eddies.

So if we look at Dominics storyline things make further sense in relation to what happens in this episode for Eddie. We have to place Eddie as Dominic, Natalia as the second body (whose name we eventually find out is Seth Davis, but not much more) and Buck as the coroner.

We get told a couple of useful things by the coroner (side note what is it with coroners in US tv programes contaminating their morgues by eating their lunch in them?!!!!)

‘looking at a body doesn’t tell us much. Our answers are usually found under the skin.’

It is a pointed line and is the one that helps us to place Buck in the role of coroner - when he is at Maries grave with Eddie he talks about playing a role for everyone else, but he also talks about Natalia seeing him better than he sees himself. Buck hasn’t actually looked deeply at himself (because Buck is scared to - he is so very traumatised) but the coroners job is to look more deeply at others - to look below the surface of the skin and see what has happened, what is going on.

Obviously in this case there are answers that can be found on the surface here - that it is the wrong person - the wrong body. The right body was there initially then it got swapped when no one was looking. So the body is labelled as the Dominic and the coroner has no reason to question the information they have (ergo Buck has no reason to question things about Natalia)it is only by twist of fate that the swap is discovered - you don’t have to look beyond the surface for the answers. Second time around it is definitely the right body because it is Dominic (who interestingly enough dies of a heart attack after taking too much of a medication designed to lower blood pressure - heart metaphor anyone?!) and the answers will only be found below the surface. Autopsies will be carried out on both bodies and in both cases it is likely that answers will be found - the cause of the Heart attack for Dominic and whatever it was that killed Seth Davis. This suggests to me that we will see Buck (the coroner) find his answers that he’ll see into Eddies heart in some way at some point and also see whatever it is he needs to see below the surface in Natalia as well, but it won’t give him the answers he seeks (if they gave us the outcomes of the two autopsies - which we won’t get but thats fine - I would put money on cause of death being completely unconnected with the heart)

Kelly - the speaker at Marie’s living funeral

I wouldn’t normally include a character like Kelly in my costume meta but there is something interesting happening with chains being increasingly connected to Buck through his girlfirends in some way so Kelly gets a look in. This is going to sound a bit off the wall but I promise it makes sense!!!

To start with I need to point out that there were several references to Charles Dickens in this episode. Kelly was giving a speech about advice she had received from her Aunt and as soon as I saw the blouse she was wearing my brain connected dots to A Christmas Carol. This ties in so perfectly with the Victorian concept of a good death - which ties into Natalia as well. The chains connect to the ghost of Jacob Marley, who comes to warn Scrooge of what awaits him if he continues his current path.

So as I mentioned - Scrooge, a miser who is set in his ways is visited by the ghost of his partner - Jacob Marley. Marley appears in chains - the chains of his fate - basically he created these through his own poor choices and stinginess.

Marley tells Scrooge he can avoid the same fate if he changes his ways while he’s still on earth and that 3 ghosts will visit him. This concept - the idea of being visited in some way by someone dead who was connected to you in real life and them giving you advice connects into Buck through Bobby in Bucks coma dream - we have a Bobby chained to the things he was addicted to in life; the pills and alcohol - but a Bobby who gives Buck a vital piece of advice (which is also heavily connected into his current arc)

‘If what matters to you most is how other people see you, then you haven’t learned a damn thing.’

This sets Bobby up as the Marley character. Scrooge is then visited by the three ghosts in turn who show him his past, things that are happening in the present and the what could be the future if he continues is path. If Buck is Scrooge then his arc is going to involve him ‘being visited by’ three ‘ghost’s to show him the way.

We have some bts (thanks @911bts for all your hard work) that suggests we may be seeing Taylor Kelly make a reappearance (side note choosing to call Maries niece Kelly will be a very nice touch if this plays out!) and she would be the ghost of Christmas past for Buck - showing him in some way aspects of his past that have led him to where he is now.

I haven’t figured out who the ghost of Christmas present is although I wonder if it could perhaps be Lucy?! This would make Natalia the ghost of Christmas yet to come. In the novel the ghost of Christmas yet to come is the ghost that most closely resembles the traditional image of death (but isn’t death) this is the ghost that convinces Scrooge to change his ways and to learn.

Obviously Scrooge does change his ways and we see him become someone who treats everyone with kindness, generosity and compassion, the embodiment of the spirit of Christmas.

But the concept of chains binding you to your past - to who you were and the mistakes you made etc is an interesting one in relation to Buck - the idea that death doesn’t free you from them and that second chances should be taken - but only if you learn the errors of your past mistakes - it all feels like it applies too well to where Buck is at and when we add the additional layer of Eddie and Christopher who fit into the roles of Bob Cratchit (who Scrooge helps and supports after his visitations) and Tiny Tim (a child who is disabled and whom Bob is devoted to). Dickens describes Scrooge as becoming like a second father to Tiny Tim at the end of the novel and we have been watching Buck become a second father to Christopher.

I leave you to decide whether or not I’ve completely lost my marbles!!!

Natalia

The handkerchief does in fact have blue roses on it. I wrote in the mini meta before the episode aired; roses in general terms mean love - red for romantic, yellow for friendship etc. Blue roses mean unattainable love (because they do not occur naturally - only through artificial means) - so that would suggest that both love is unattainable for both Natalia and Buck but also that any feelings etc are not real - they can only be achieved through synthetic or artificial means - suggesting that any attempt at a relationship is going to be forced. Blue roses can also mean (especially the lighter shades of blue) emotions - specifically the finding of hope peace and tranquility. So with all of this in mind we end up with the concept of Buck finding what he’s looking for and that Natalia will help him get there, but that it isn't love, its the peace, tranquility and happiness that he's been seeking for himself.

The black velvet blazer and black matt dress has a Victorian mourning dress vibe. This is playing into her role as a death doula - the Victorians were obsessed with the idea of a ‘good death.’ This idea stemmed from evangelical beliefs around being with family and making peace with God. In the Victorian period death was a very common occurrence and so having a ‘good’ relationship with it and being in close proximity to the dying was actively encouraged. A good death was considered to be a slow death which gave people time to say goodbye and for the dying person to see all of their family and friends through that process.

Once the person had died mourning was commenced and this too had strict rules. clothing was to be matt plain and black - bombazine, velvet and cottons were the most commonly worn fabrics (depending on wealth and status). Matt fabrics were preferred because they didn’t reflect the light - it represented the depth of the soul and the depth of grief.

Dressing Natalia in an outfit which mimics Victorian mourning is playing into that concept - it is a physical representation of her job and more than likely her personality as well - she will very literally be all about death all the time in some way.

I stand by what I said in the mini meta I wrote when we got the sneak peeks, but I want to talk about the necklace choice again in light of the fact that it was, once again, buck being pursued (whilst at work) rather than doing the pursuing. the choice to use this necklace to connect Natalia to Taylor, to Veronica and to Ana is a very clear choice. I’m going to write a meta that focus’s on the necklaces we see the various girlfriends wearing, because there are some interesting things going on with them. But the fact remains that the necklace also contributes to telling us that Natalia is headed the same way as all of the others - that she won’t be his endgame romance. She is a representation of death and this necklace is playing into the idea of death having a claim over Buck - of Buck feeling like death has a claim over him and like I said above this plays into the Christmas Carol undertones we’re getting. It all connects to the fact that with these women, Buck keeps on repeating the same mistakes, he needs to break these chains or he will end up like Jacob Marley in the novel.

There is also something in connecting the chains to the water theme we see playing out in Bucks arc - about water finding its level and the chains representing the anchors that give a boat respite to hold it in place when not in port. If Buck is a boat and his water hasn’t yet found its level, the implication is that his waters are at the very least choppy and at worst - tsunami waves and that he needs to pause for a minute on his journey. Buck seems to make most of his progress when fairly newly out of a relationship with a woman - they seem to stall him - hold him in place but his growth is minimal. We saw in the tsunami, the boat anchored off shore where a couple were trying to get married but in the end only succeeding in their nuptial plans when they were on dry land. All of these chains connecting to Bucks girlfriends suggest they are helping to anchor his boat out at sea, while he is on his journey and needs a moment, but that when his water finds its level he won’t need chains or anchors - he will be in the safety of port.

The red dress is a great colour on her. it is a rusty red/orange and now I’ve been able to get a better look at this dress and I’ve seen the actual scene play out I have a few new thoughts. what I thought might be crosses is actually a looser design which looks remarkably like the graphics 911 uses for the incoming emergency calls to dispatch;

This is Bucks emergency - meeting with Natalia is a cry for help, but when you are the emergency service, you cannot call yourself for help! There is also something in the fact that the other parts of the design on this dress look like keyholes. This is an interesting concept because Buck is looking for a key not a keyhole because he is looking for answers - a way to unlock what is inside him and move on (and through). Natalia is also a keyhole - she is seeking the answers to death - to what comes after and she is interested in Buck for that reason alone - i’m not saying she cannot develop an interest in Buck beyond that but as it stands the show hasn’t shown us her being interested in anything more than the fact that Buck died - she is the one to bring the conversation around to his death, not him.

Flowers

We are pausing here to go off on a little side quest into flower land!!! because the little arrangement on the table at the cafe/restaurant made me giggle!!

we have 2 pink carnations what I think is a deep purple chrysanthemum (although it could be a gerbera) sprays of babys breath purple statice

All of these flowers are very commonly associated with funerals and death. Pink carnations symbolise gratitude while the dark pink one is also variegated with yellow - which means disappointment or disappointed hopes. the purple chrysanthemum means sickness and is often given to those who are struggling with illness and need encouragement in their recovery and in most of Europe they are so deeply associated with death and funerals that it is considered offensive to give them to people outside of offering condolences. the babys breath means new beginnings while the purple statice means sympathy and remembrance (as an aside it also has a medicinal use - in the treatment of respiratory illnesses!!)

So all the signs both subtle and textual are telling us that Natalia isn’t going to be around for especially long as there is too much death surrounding her - even when in a setting that should be innocuous!

Buck

The yellow ochre (at the brown end of the spectrum is very definitely a call back to not only his appointment with Dr Copeland - where he talks about hiding his true feelings from others - but it also connects with a broader theme for Buck that I’ve really only figured out because of this scene and his continued insistence on misunderstanding the assignment!!!

I know I’ve spoken at length about yellow being a colour of communication and clear thinking and its brighter shades can be symbols of joy, however I don’t think I’ve spoken enough about some of the more negative traits that can be associated with yellow - which I’ve never really felt fit the narrative before now, however seeing this episode has changed my opinion somewhat, and I am fairly certain that the show has been leaning into the negative traits for yellow ochre far more heavily than it first appeared.

So yellow is considered the colour of communication, in part, because it is the first colour the cones of the eye can detect and so over time it has become associated with the need to convey information (such as hazzards etc), but it is also associated with communication because it was used heavily in Christian artworks on Judas - to highlight him and his betrayal - in part because it contrasts well with the blues and reds Jesus is often depicted in. If you look up Hans Holbeins ‘The last Supper’ for example you will see Judas as the only one depicted in yellow ochre. As a result yellow ochre can be associated with cowardice and fear. the brown undertones of yellow ochre can also hint at loneliness and isolation as well as stability and foundations for growth. I’ve gone back through my notes and I’ll highlight some of the key scenes where I think the dual meaning of yellow ochre is at play.

4x02 - the counselling scene with Dr Copeland 4x03 - Maddie talks to Buck after he confesses going to therapy 4x04&5 - Buck finds out about Daniel 4x14 - talking to Taylor while packing to go stay at the Diaz house - At the hospital - the will reveal 5x03 - Buck gets home after the blackout - Taylor is on the TV 5x04 - Buck talks to Chim about Maddie being ok - ‘Its what she does” 5x14 - Equestrian therapy centre 6x11 - His trousers in the coma dream

These are most of the occasions where he has worn yellow ochre, there are a few others, but I’ve highlighted these one specifically because they tie into a key theme. Interestingly there are only two instances before the phone call with Dr Copeland in season 4. All of the ones I’ve highlighted are connected to Bucks mental state in some way and more specifically they are broadly connected with death (and Daniel).

These are all times when Bucks mental health is in a vulnerable place - the therapy of it all is showing us Buck is not in a good place - we never really get told if covid lockdown played a part in his decision to go to therapy, or indeed how much the return of Abby played into it, but whatever his reasons, there was clearly some form of trigger, I surmise the fact that Abby returned to his life at a moment when death was surrounding them (including her fiancee being in the firing line) and I think it may have played its part.

Finding out about Daniel is an obvious one - finding out why he’s felt like he wasn’t enough his whole life etc and how he has been walking in the shadow of death his entire life. interestingly we don’t see anymore yellow ochre in the rest of season 4 until Eddie gets shot - Death is back in Bucks life. The will reveal scene is a bit of a double ended sword on the yellow ochre front, not only does it connect to Eddies brush with death, it also links to Bucks own vulnerable mental state as well as being a moment that calls out Bucks passive suicidal tendencies by forcing him to live for someone besides himself.

The one from 4x13 in his loft and the one from 5x03 both connect to his vulnerability - Taylor takes advantage of it in 4x13 and kisses him while in 5x03 she is absent and Buck is in a position where - after Eddie telling him he is going to take the advice Buck has given him - he is questioning his own relationship and if he is also doing the same thing to Taylor that Eddie has been doing to Ana. I genuinely think that if Maddie and Chimney hadn’t left LA in the next episode, Buck would’ve broken up with Taylor fairly quickly. As it is his support network shrinks very quickly and he clings to the one thing/person who isn’t expecting more from him and who is sticking around - even if he isn’t truly happy.

Seeing the ochre at the equestrian therapy centre is also a moment of vulnerability for Buck - he is obviously worried about Eddie and his mental health, but it is also the first time they bring up the shooting and say something more than stating the fact that Eddie got shot. the black being dominant on that jacket is a reflection of him trying to cover up that vulnerability so he can be there for his best friend, but it is also us seeing a chink in Bucks armour around Eddie (remember the only time we’ve seen him in that colour with Eddie is in that locker room scene from 5x03).

I’m not going to go into the trousers from the coma dream in great detail, except to say that we are inside Bucks head for the whole time he is wearing those trousers so we are literally walking through all of buck fears and trauma and that may be why the yellow is on his legs rather than his top.

The graveyard scene was both interesting and loud on the costume front. You do not want to know how long I’ve spent trying to work out if this was the same jacket dyed or if it was a new jacket and I can confirm it is a new Jacket. Both Jackets are by Theory - the ochre one from last season the new one from this!!

This jacket continues the green theming we’ve seen in action for Buck this season, it is however a much darker green that we’ve seen yet and also ties in to Eddies army greens very nicely as well. The darkening of the green is actually really interesting because we’ve kind of gone from the very pale greens in 6a to the coma dream bright sagey green to this much darker olive green - its like we’ve skipped a few steps - a few shades of green.

The army olive green of it is also aloud choice and very much intentional - it not only connects to Eddie very directly because of it being a shade we see most often on him, but it is also a nod towards the military side of things - the idea that Buck is at war (with himself) and that he’s feeling under attack - not from anyone else, but from and with himself - the no longer knowing who he is or what he wants.

This green is not one we see on Buck very often at all in fact there are only 2 instances - the low key date with Abby in season 1 and on the couch with Chris when the firefam are at Eddies house - the I’m not really a guest scene. I tend to discount season 1′s costumes unless they are the exact same costume, because they used several designers that season and the costuming of Buck in particular was very different from season 2 onwards, so it tends to not have as much relevance. The 3x11 scene however - very telling in relation to what we’ve seen play out this season

Eddie

So much going on in Eddies costumes this week and repeat outfits everywhere you look. At Shannons grave we see Eddie in the same Jumper as therapy scene/ coming home to Buck. While there is very much the connection to Buck misunderstanding the assignment and the heart metaphors at play, there is another aspect to this outfit being worn again and that is his therapy session with Frank. the use of the same jumper as we see him wear in therapy is pointing out that Eddie is able to sit here at his dead wife's grave with their son and create a good experience because he has been in therapy.

I pointed it out in my mini meta, but its worth reiterating (this is literally the only vaguely decent shot of it I can get!) and notice how Eddie is very much not wearing his watch - there is no watch to be seen work or home or fancy watch!!! The lack of watch her is connected to Shannon - they have no more time - she is no longer a physical presence in their lives, in Eddies life, she is still present yes, but she no longer has any influence over Eddies time, his lack of time or indeed over Christophers time. Eddie has time, because the clock has stopped. This tells us Eddie has moved on and is at peace with Shannon now and that he has got past his anger etc, that he is in a good place with that aspect of his trauma and can look at things with a happier eye.

Talking on phone to his mom when we find out about the earth day field trip. we get Eddie wearing the same jacket he wore to Hens leaving the 118 party. Again Eddies watch is prominent here - in fact Eddies watch is prominent in every scene he has except for the two scenes at the graves of Shannon and Marie.

Having him in the same jacket as this one;

while putting him in a black shirt that connects him to Shannons death is a choice!!

I have spent a lot of time while writing this meta trying to figure out why this shirt looks so familiar to me - I haven’t succeeded - it isn’t one we’ve seen Eddie wear before, but it is an interesting choice for him. its this greenish grey colour and has echoes of some of the clothes we saw him in during 5b, but it also has echoes of Buck in 5b - wearing a lot of grey with black. This is relevant because we saw Buck supporting Eddie during his recovery and this scene at Maries grave would appear to be the opening overtures of Eddie providing the same for Buck - now that he has seen more deeply into what is going on with Buck. in the same way that the Kitchen scene in 6x12 echoed the kitchen scene in 5x11 when Buck saw that Eddie wasn’t actually happy or in a good place, this scene in the graveyard has echoes of Buck being there in the immediate aftermath of Eddies breakdown.

Its not the exact same jacket, but I think its close enough that we can draw a comparison between the scenes because the black leather jacket Eddie wears here when Buck talks about Natalia seeing him is incredibly similar to the one Eddie wears to Bobbys in 5x18 - when he tells Bobby that he saved bot hEddie and Chris. That bobby saw him and provided Eddie what he needed, even if Eddie wasn’t necessarily welcoming it with open arms at the time - implying that Eddie will potentially do the same for Buck now - Buck may not be completely open to Bucks help in this moment - distracted as he is thinking Natalia has the answers, but that Eddie will provide support etc anyway.

The jacket is in fact the very same one Eddie wears when we see him at Bucks bedside for the one and only time - it is his widows weeds suede jacket. the moment we see how broken Eddie is over Bucks death and resurrection. The same jacket being worn a couple of episodes later when we have them at a grave side talking about dying alone and being seen by people is a really interesting parallel to draw. there is something in the fact that we see it here in this scene - when Buck is talking about being seen and when coma Buck didn’t see Eddie - in his coma dream or at his bedside in the land of the living. Buck felt/saw everyone else’s presence during his coma - he knew about Bobbys rosary beads and we hear Athenas voice from the real world echo in the coma as well as Christophers voice guiding Buck to the hospital.

But Eddie was missing from it all - in Bucks eyes and mind. We the audience of course know that Eddie was present and that he was broken over it, we know that his lack of presence was far louder than if he had been more present in the episode. Bucks subconscious however doesn’t know that. He knows that Eddie cares for him, that he is his best friend etc but Buck exploring why Eddie wasn’t there in the dream beyond a conversation with Hen and Chim about what happened to him without Bucks presence is not something he is ready to look at yet. so we have a deeply traumatised Buck searching for answers without the tools to do so and therefore looking in the wrong places while we have an Eddie realising that Buck is different, but that he himself is also different and needing to mourn the fact that things have changed.

This isn’t about him having his heart broken in a romantic sense, this is him having an epiphany about time and making the most of it. It is about him needing to mourn the fact that he has been changed by Bucks death and reconcile with himself so that he can move forward, so that he can be there fore Buck as Buck was for him.

I will be forever obsessed with the choice to have Eddie wear the exact same henley in this episode as in 6x07 and 6x13. A scene showing Eddie missing his family and choosing to make time and go home to Texas to see them in the aftermath of seeing Buck make another self destructive choice which will probably end in failure. Connected to a scene where Eddie is talking about his Abuela being taken advantage of to the point of losing almost everything and to a scene where we can not only see the Buckley-Diaz family in full swing, but also see Christopher trying to take advantage of Bucks math skills and failing and the foreshadowing for the poker hustle which also isn’t as successful as Eddie had planned, and which he mentions in the previous scene at Maries grave - choices were made!

Chris

At Shannon’s grave we get a rare sighting of Chris in a jacket!! The denim jacket is both a connection with Texas and with Eddie, but it is also a connection with Shannon and Shannon‘s death. Thanks @theladyyavilee for pointing this out to me, but Chris is wearing a denim shirt of a similar colour when Eddie told Christopher that Shannon had died.

Denim jackets are culturally tied to westerns, cowboys and to Texas. Christopher wearing one here would appear to be a visual way of tying him to the childhood he had with his mother - backing up the conversation about making s'mores with her when he was younger. The fact that Chris is wearing a denim jacket connected to Shannon and her death over the top of a jumper which is connected to Buck and the moment Buck saved his father is an interesting connection and piece of layering to me.

The hoodie is white and grey striped - the horizontal version of Buck shirt from the shooting. this is suggesting two things to me - one it is connecting Chris directly to the fact he nearly lost both parents - sitting at the grave of one parent while wearing something that echoes an outfit from the moment he could've lost a second parent. I also think there is something in the connection to Buck specifically in this - its directly connected to the will and that Chris has a third parent - I can't wait to see if I'm just clowning hard, or if the change the stripes Chris is wearing are foreshadowing some connection to the will!

We can't not talk about the fact the striped hoodie actually plays on several fronts not just the Buck connection! Stripes according to my theory are all about change incoming - the theory hasn't yet been disproven by the wardrobe department and I get the feeling that here is no different. The idea that a change is coming in Christophers life is one that has been hovering around for the whole season and the narrowing of the stripes would suggest that change is getting closer. The stripes have been telling us, but so it would appear are the little surfing skeletons on his tee at the end of the previous episode along with a proliferation of water and surf theming surrounding Christopher. I’m at the point now where I think Bucks water might find its level when Chris is in danger - it will be the wake up he needs to sort himself out and get his head out of his ass!!

Then we are onto the shoes. I know its almost impossible to see from the scene, but I am nothing if not determined so after a lot of zooming and messing around with the image levels and a bit of googling, I am pretty sure that these are the shoes Christopher is wearing;

If they aren’t foreshadowing Chris in danger in connection with water after all of the other water and surfing related clothing we’ve seen him in recently I don’t know what to tell you.

Space theme surrounding Chris retuning to me from the wilderness in the form of a backpack - you have no idea how happy this made me. We haven’t seen Chris wearing anything space themed since 4x08 - in the scene with Buck when he ran away from home after Eddie told him about Ana. We have seen a backpack - a Star wars backpack in season 5 however we never actually see him holding it, it is always Eddie - and the space theme remains in his bedroom (the little we’ve seen of it). To me the star wars backpack was connected to Eddies mental health because he was at war with himself which is why we never see Chris in contact with that bag. The space theming is so closely entwined with Buck and Eddie, no one else and because there is so much blue in Bucks costume choices this season, to have Chris holding a space themed backpack that is blue is an interesting choice. The back pack is one that shows galaxies and very much represents the universe, but we have also seen Buck to be very entwined in Christophers school life this season - helping with homework, baking cookies etc. so it really isn’t that much of a leap to connect the backpack to Buck - giving him a presence in a scene that is connected to Christopher heading out for some school activity it is continuing the universe theme and continuing to Connect Buck to the Diaz boys - in a subtle way which gives him presence in their lives even in his absence. In an episode that is so strongly connected to Shannon, her continued presence in their lives even in her eternal absence, its a clear choice.

The jumper with its three bands of colour is also intriguing me. there is something in the idea that it connects into the 3 theme we’ve had all season, but there is also something in the idea that the three bands represent the three people who are having the most influence on who Christopher is growing up to be - Shannon - white as she is not of this world any longer and was the first parent Chris spent time with - Buck - Blue - in part becasue of the blue theming around him tis season, but also because it is next to the white - and therefore suggests the idea of the batton being handed over - Eddie - the yellow ochre which is much closer to the brown we see Eddie in so much - Eddie is the earth from which Chris grows, it its the brightest colour on the jumper and suggests the brightest and biggest presence in his life.

The jumper in these colours also suggests the three elements of earth water and air, themes we’ve seen in play throughout this season - the blimp being the air (and an episode coming up called love is in the air), Buck being in the air when he gets hit by the lightning, the water theme has been there all season long in various forms, not least the pictures on the Diaz house walls and all the water connected themes on Christophers clothes, and there have been several episodes that have shown us Buck and Eddie digging - the slingshot tree call and the father hit by lightning in the sand are the two main ones.

Chris sleeping away on the sofa in his stripey top while covered in a check pattern blanket just continues the theme of Chris and change incoming, as well as the threat of danger. For me the fact that we seem to see so much of Christopher in stripes in connection with Buck in some way - implies that the change that is coming is in relation to Buck and the fact that these stripes are being worn on the sofa where we have Chris mimicking Bucks sleeping position on the couch wearing a shade of sea-foam green (which means revitalisation and enlightenment) that also seems to be connecting to Buck - after we saw him in a striped top that echoed Bucks white striped shirt - its all making my eyes stand out on stalks.

Honestly if you have made it to the end of this epic then I don’t know what to say other than I love you form the bottom of my heart. Its a bit of a beast. Will this show and its wardrobe department ever give me a minute to breathe?? Probably not and thats why we love it!! I’m off to sleep for a million years and send some prayers to the tumblr gods that next weeks meta is n’t such a challenge to upload!

As always, tag list below! Until the next episode! 💜💜💜

@mistmarauder @theladyyavilee @leothil @girldadbuddie @kitkatpancakestack @buckscurls @lemotmo @trashendence @elishareads @clipboardsandstethoscopes @comfortbuddie @fiona-fififi @callanee @calyssmarviss @pbandjeremiah @batgrldes @spotsandsocks @livingwherethesidewalkends @idontshitpostbuttheolympicpark @diazboysbuckley @sweettsubaki @shortsighted-owl @sherlocking-out-loud @wh0re-behavi0r @favouritealias @hearteyesdiaz @ktinastrikesback @princesschez75 @bucksbuddie @oneawkwardcookie @leatherati @moniquekatie @wanderingwomanwondering @trickster-archangel @asharadaine @ajunerose @talespinner230 @pop-kam @swiftiebuckleys @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @butchjerry @mandzuking17 @yelenasbuddie @copyninjabuckley @name-code-black-widow @rogerzsteven @bi-moonlight @usercowboy @inthecarwithaboy @inandoutoffocus-blog @toboldlynerd

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mycurrent-hyperfixation · 2 years

Text

The Babysitters: Eddie Munson x Reader (Part II)

Summary: You and Eddie had always had a flirtatious relationship, but when you get pulled into the Upside Down the both of you realise that maybe you wanted something more than that.

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

Tags: fluff

A/N: Hi guys! This one was supposed to be hell short but it accidentally got super long so I’ve split it in two. Part II is already up!

Part I

When the five of you had successfully traversed the rope that led you out of the Upside Down and into Eddie’s trailer, Dustin, Lucas and Max immediately began bombarding you with a multitude of questions.

“I can’t believe you were dumb enough to go through watergate,” Dustin said.

“Did you see Vecna?” Lucas questioned.

“Why are you bleeding?” Max asked, causing Dustin and Lucas to look straight towards you.

“Oh my God, ew” Lucas exclaimed, walking backwards in horror at the sight of your wounds. Max, instead, moved closer.

“Cool,” Dustin said. “You’ll probably get some super sick scars!”

“Dustin, are you serious?” Eddie chastised but stopped at the sound of your laughter.

“Yeah, I suppose the scars will be kinda cool,” you responded.

“Keep an eye out for rabies symptoms,” Robin chimed in.

“Why were you guys back at Wheeler’s place anyway? I thought you were going to wait for us by the lake,” Steve said.

“Well it’s a good thing we didn’t since you guys took forever,” Dustin responded.

“Plus we got arrested,” Max said.

“Arrested!” Steve exclaimed.

“We weren’t technically arrested,” Dustin began.

“Hey,” you said softly, turning towards Eddie as the other’s continued on in their argument.

“Hey,” he said back tenderly.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare shirt I could borrow, would you? It’s just that my bathers are kinda all ripped up and it’s freezing and-”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” Eddie hastily interjected. “Sorry, I should have offered before.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said as you followed Eddie into his room.

You weren’t quite sure what you had expected Eddie’s bedroom to be like, but the sight that you were met with was so completely Eddie that you had to hide a giggle that threatened to escape your lips. Posters of rock bands covered almost every wall. There was a prominent aroma of weed that hung in the air, intermingled with whatever deodorant Eddie used. The bedsheets were scattered haphazardly on the bed, the rest of the floor covered with clothes which were almost all of a black variety.

“Sorry, I would have cleaned if I had known I was having people over,” Eddie said sheepishly, hastily trying to collect as many items from the floor as he could.

“No-no, it’s fine. My room’s the same so don’t worry,” you responded.

“Um, t-take a seat,” Eddie said, pointing to his bed. “I just need to find something that’s clean.”

You perched yourself upon the edge of the bed, wincing slightly as the skin around your wounds shifted and moved. You didn’t notice as Eddie glanced back towards you with a concerned look upon his features.

“We should probably disinfect your wounds. I think I have a bottle of vodka around here that we can use,” Eddie said, his head half buried in the drawer he was searching through.

You scrunched your face in detest at the mere thought of the pain that the alcohol would elicit.

“Just give me a couple of extra minutes to get used to the pain I’m already in before we do anything else,” you responded.

“Right,” Eddie said. “Sorry.”

Eddie walked the short distance back to you and handed you a black crewneck jumper.

“I know you asked for a shirt but you said it was cold and this will probably be big on you so it won’t rub up against your wounds as much but I can get you a shirt if you want-”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you interjected his ramblings with a small smile curling onto your features. “This is perfect.”

Before you donned the jumper, you looked down at your bathers hesitantly, wondering whether you should attempt the painful process of extracting the fabric from your skin. Just as you had decided that that job could be saved for later, Eddie spoke up.

“I could help you if you need.”

A blush crept up your cheeks just as Eddie’s own face turned a flaming red as he realised what he had just offered.

“No! I mean…no! I didn’t mean it like that I just wanted to be helpful!” Eddie brought his hands up to rub at his face. “Sorry. Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean…I should go and get Nancy or Robin.”

Eddie hung his head as he hastily ran for the door.

“Eddie,” you said with a slight laugh. Eddie paused just before the door and hesitantly turned back to look at you. “It’s okay. I’ll keep everything on until I get back home.” Eddie let out a sigh.

You gingerly took off Eddie’s leather jacket and pulled on his jumper instead. It had the logo of a band on the front, you realised, but what band specifically you weren’t quite sure. The bed dipped slightly as Eddie came to sit next to you.

“Sorry I’m being so useless,” Eddie began. “I’m just not used to these kind of situations and-”

“Are you being serious?” you interrupted. “Eddie, you literarily saved my life today.”

A blush crept up Eddie’s cheeks.

“Well, yeah, I suppose. But that’s only because I got there first. If Harrington or Nancy or Robin had gotten there before me than they would have done the same.”

“Stop being so humble, Munson. It doesn’t suit you,” you said with a smile causing a small laugh to escape from Eddie’s lips. “Sorry I got blood all over your shirt,” you continued, pointing down to the large red patch that covered the bottom half of Eddie’s shirt.

“I’m sure I can find it in my heart one day to forgive you,” Eddie responded. “Plus I think it adds to my aesthetic.”

“Oh, for sure,” you said. “It really feeds into the whole satanic blood sacrifice thing you’ve got going on.”

A large laugh escaped from Eddie’s throat and you couldn’t help but marvel at it. He had his head thrown back and his eyes closed as the beautiful sound filled the air. It was a nice laugh, so genuine and natural that it always had you wanting to elicit another. When Eddie reopened his eyes, he turned to look back at you, and suddenly the air between you grew altogether more serious. The two of you sat like that for some time, a silence growing between the two of you that had grown so thick it was almost palpable. It made it hard to breath as you looked at him, beautiful brown eyes looking so intently back at you.

“I thought I was going to lose you there for a second,” Eddie whispered. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my life.”

A breath hitched in your throat at his words. You felt like saying something witty. You felt like breaking whatever it was that lingered in the air between you with a quick joke or a snide remark.

“I thought I was going to die,” you said back instead, surprising yourself. “But then you were there with that oar and I knew I was going to be alright.”

Somewhere during the length of your conversation your face had slowly inched closer to Eddie’s so that now you were practically inches apart. You felt his breath upon your skin, warm and familiar. You could smell him as well, his scent thick with smoke and yet vastly comforting. You could feel heat emanating off of him and you wondered for a split second how he was so warm when you were still so cold.

And then you could taste him.

Whether you were the one to close the distance between the two of you or whether it was Eddie, you weren’t altogether quite sure. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care as his lips moved against yours, his touch gentle and yet desperate as you inhaled each other. The kiss was slow, so tantalisingly slow as if Eddie was half expecting you to pull away. But when you brought one hand up to rest upon his cheek and the other to tangle in his hair, he relaxed into your touch. He brought his own hand to rest upon your cheek, wanting to rest the other one upon your waist but thinking better of it and instead bringing it to rest on your leg that sat between the two of you. He tasted surprisingly sweet as you deepened the kiss.

And although you would have preferred to spend the remainder of the day wrapped up in Eddie’s arms just as you were, although you were quite sure that you could spend the rest of your life kissing Eddie Munson, the burning in your lungs said otherwise. You pulled away hesitantly, not wanting his touch to go. The air was filled with heavy breathing for quite some time before either of you spoke.

A smile broke out onto your face as you looked at him.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie asked, his smile coming to mirror yours.

“The kids are probably out there waiting for us,” you said.

“I think the kids can give Mommy and Daddy some alone time for once,” Eddie responded before he hooked one arm around your neck and connected his lips back to yours.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #season 4 stranger things #steve harrington #joseph quinn #joe quinn

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