#someone who has seen these things rise and fall before and will again

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: Hey girl hey... I'm back! Im sorry for the prolonged time between these late chapters:( Fixations are weird and frangible things. You have one for a month and then get tired of it, but come back to the same one every now and then. That's basically what writing is for me... I know it may not be fair to you readers but I am trying my best because i truly love you guys... This is not the best thing that I have written for this story, but we are finally at the end! It has been a rollercoaster for us all. Thank you for those who have stuck with me since day one and thank you for those who randomly stumble upon this shit show of a story and send me sweet messages<3 I hope this is good enough xoxo

Summary: Crossing over the rainbow bridge is not what you expected it to be, especially when you're told you cannot stay long, but everything was worth it in the end.

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: profanity, potential grammatical errors, and a happily ever after!

Word Count: ≈ 2,237

Chapter 11: You're my mate

“Who are you and where am I?” you blinked rapidly at the blinding light invading your gaze.

“Welcome my child, you know where you are and you know who I am-” the voice sent a warmth through your body at the raw power it held, yet it was still tenderhearted.

You blinked a couple more times to readjust your sight at the most ethereal woman you have ever seen standing before you. This cannot be real…

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” you asked.

“Not quite, I fear I have taken you too soon,” she gave you a soft smile as the realization hit you. Only one person could take your life too soon.

“Oh my gods, you’re the mother!” You bowed to her immediately, unsure of what the proper greeting was for a celestial being. She giggled.

“No need for such formalities, stand up my child. I have something I wish to discuss.” She offered you her hand which you gladly accepted. You felt a zing rush through you at the touch. The power she held was beyond anything you felt from Rhysand and the other high lords.

“Of course,” you smiled, “What exactly would that be? Have I sinned too much to remain here?!”

She laughed yet again, “You are quite the humorous one, and no, I am not here to discuss your sins. I want to discuss the mistake I made with your mate.”

You stood there in pure shock, “Azriel?”

“Yes, I wholeheartedly apologize for fating you two together. That shadowsinger never got over his self-loathing I’m afraid.” You looked at her puzzled. “You see, when I fated the two of you, I had hoped his self-destructiveness would disappear once he met you,” she smiled at you again as you listened, “that was until Elain Acheron had stepped in and took that place before you ever could.”

“Believe me mother, I am well aware…” you sighed. “I tried so hard,” tears began to form in your eyes.

“Oh my love, I know you did, and this is all my fault. I am sorry for causing you so much suffering. It is clear to me now that I should have fated you to someone else,” she gave you her hand again, “Come walk with me.”

She led you hand in hand over to a cauldron. She waved her hand over it to reveal your friends still circled around your body, only this time a certain auburn-haired male began to awake.

“LUCIEN!” You wept at the sight of his chest rising and falling again, “He’s alive!”

The mother nodded, “I brought him here and sent him back, just like I am about to do with you.”

“I don't understand, why bring us both here in the first place if we are only going to be sent back?” You watched as your friends noticed Lucien’s movements as you still lay there cold.

“Because my child, I have been watching you for quite some time and realized that your love without a bond for another male grew stronger than any completed bond I have ever seen.”

“That’s not possible- nothing is stronger than a completed bond,” you looked at her and shook your head in disbelief.

“I never thought something like this would happen but you two have proven me wrong. You both have just done the impossible,” she smiled at you, and she took hold of both of your hands, “That male loves you more than anything.” Her thumbs caressed the small marking along your wrists, your eyes followed the movement as you chuckled.

“So, what’s going to happen to now?” you looked up at the creator of everything you knew.

“I am going to send you back,” she kissed the top of your forehead and you felt something inside you shift, “I am sorry for taking you both too soon, but it had to be done. I have now made things the way they should be,” she smiled as she gestured to the cauldron.

“What?” you looked at her in disbelief.

“Step into the cauldron, it will take you back to your loved ones.”

You looked in to see Lucien now trying to wake you as the others watched in awe of his liveliness, “Lucien did the same thing?”

“Yes,” she nodded as you began to slowly step your way into the cauldron. You were waist in before you stopped abruptly as anxiety ate at you to ask a certain question.

“I won’t have any special powers like Feyre, Nesta, and Elain right?”

“No, this is different than their rebirth. You will have no power; you will remain as you were before.”

“Good, that’s good. Powers would have been cool though,” you smiled as you submerged the rest of yourself into the sacred artifact. Just before your ears went under you could hear the mother say something to you before you left.

“Everything is alright now, I love you my child. You have made me proud.”

You smiled as the liquid surrounded you and sparkled against your skin. It almost looked like Starfall which made you smile reminding you of home. You were heading back home! You felt your body tense like it was being winnowed back to your reality. It was a weird sensation, but you could slowly feel the memory of the mother and everything she had done for you fade as you passed through a barrier.

“Y/n!” you could hear someone crying out your name. You were trying to regain your senses as firm hands caressed the hair out of your face. One of their tears fell onto your cheek. It almost felt hot. Your eyes squinted at the feeling.

“Lucien look!” Someone cried out, as Lucien’s eyes scanned over your face slightly scrunching up at the foreign feeling of a tear that was not your own on your face. He let out a small, relieved gasp.

“Y/n?” He wiped off his tear that had fallen as he saw your chest take a deep inhale, “Oh my gods!” He wept, “You’re alive… you’re alive!”

His hands caressed your own, trying to give your cold skin more warmth. Azriel letting some of his own tears fall at the sight of you breathing again, Elain was rubbing small circles on his back in comfort. Mor and Feyre’s hands covered their mouths in shock at the events unfolding before them as tears of joy left their eyes. Nesta had let out a much-needed breath she didn’t know she was holding as she smiled at the two of you breathing again. Cassian thanked the mother repeatedly as Rhysand grabbed Feyre’s hand with tear filled eyes.

You began to wiggle your toes and fingers, getting used to the feeling of yourself again as you opened your eyes to see Lucien with the biggest smile you have ever seen from him.

“Lucien?” you questioned. Your mind was foggy, unable to really remember anything except the fact the last time you saw him he was dead.

He pressed your hands to his lips, “I’m here…”

You began to cry, “You’re alive!”

He nodded his head as he pulled you into his chest, “And so are you!”

You wrapped your arms around him in an instant, “Don’t ever leave me like that again!”

“Like hell I would live in a world without you,” he smiled as he cupped your face and kissed you tenderly. It’s right then you felt something trying to ignite inside your chest, no restraints or walls were holding it back as it set your soul aflame. You pulled away from Lucien and looked at him in amazement as you sent that flame to where it was trying to pull itself to. Lucien’s eyes widened as he slowly felt his empty chest cavity burst into life filled with everything you were sending his way. Love. Passion. Trust. Protectiveness. He couldn’t but help but smile as he got to say these words again knowing he would be complete, “You’re my mate!”

You let out a laugh of relief at the words, “Mates,” as you kissed him so hard you both fell back into the earth beneath you.

“That’s impossible,” Azriel said in disbelief. Elain’s face was ghost white.

“Well brother, the mother can work in mysterious ways,” Rhysand smiled at you finally getting your happy ending.

Lucien pulled away from you breathless, “I love you.”

You gave him a toothy grin and kissed him once more, “I love you!”

The wind kissed your skin as you both got up off the ground hand in Lucien’s. The presence of the wind almost felt familiar to you. You looked up at your mate and saw he had the same expression. Both of you looked at each other before you both whispered a soft thank you into the wind to let it be carried away to wherever it was headed as your friends began to crowd you both. Feyre ran into Lucien’s outstretched arms as Mor crashed into yours.

“Oh gods I am so happy you’re alive!” Mor cried.

“I think that was enough bonding for a lifetime,” you laughed as you cried with your best friend.

“I am just glad you are okay!” she smiled as she let Feyre hug you next. She looked over to Lucien and gave you a warm smile, “I am so happy for you both, take good care of him.”

Rhysand and Cassian pulled you into a big group hug.

“What even happened? I saw you both die!” Cassian kissed your cheek fondly.

“I don't even know… I wish I could tell you both, but I'm just happy I get to keep my favorite bat boys around,” you laughed as Rhysand kissed your other cheek.

“Like I said to Az, the mother works in wonderous ways.” As they pulled you back into another huge hug.

“Stop you’re going to pop me!” you laughed as a pair of footsteps approached you. You looked up to see Azriel. He looked at you guiltily and you felt nothing towards the male. No hate, no resentment, no longing, no nothing. You took a deep breath as you said, “Bring it in Azriel, it’s alright…”

Azriel carefully joined the group hug, “I am so sorry…” you and the others just hugged each other tighter as a response. You heard a cough from outside the circle as Elain stood before you. Rhysand and Cassian gave you one last hug before they walked over to Lucien and the others. Leaving you with Azriel and Elain.

“Y/n if I had only known…” Elain’s voice trailed off. Their presence was a little much for you after knowing what they both caused, but without them you wouldn’t have your mate.

“Look, everything that happened between us is a lot to digest and it's overwhelming me right now, but I am willing to look forward and have a fresh start, just give me time.” You gave them both an awkward smile as you walked off to the others who were all showering Lucien in hugs like they had done with you earlier. The sight of it made you smile.

“Be careful with him! I just got him back,” you teased as everyone looked towards you.

“We just got you both back,” Feyre said with a soft smile, “Tonight we celebrate you both and your new bond!”

“Just don't feed him anything until we're gone,” Cassian quipped as he clapped Lucien on the shoulder. Lucien rolled his eyes at the comment as Mor whispered into your ear, “and when you do, you still owe us girls a story after all.” She winked as your face grew hot at the talk of the act of completing the bond together.

“Calm yourself darling, we have plenty of time for that later,” Lucien pulled you into his side, “Let’s celebrate with our friends yeah?”

“Fine, I guess we can let loose a little to celebrate beating death and finding our bond.” You smiled.

“Well, what are we waiting for?! Let’s go party! I’m ready to let loose after everything that just transpired,” Mor said as everyone left to go back inside. Lucien pulled you aside before you both walked in and pushed you against a wall as he kissed you with fiery passion.

“As soon as that little party is over, I am going to fuck you into the bed, wall, desk,” he began to kiss your neck as the fresh bond between you hummed in your chest, “Any surface that I can take you on till we’re both burning this court into ashes with our love.”

You moaned at his words, “You promise?”

“If that is what my mate wants,” as he stared into your eyes as you traced your fingers down his back.

“Only if mine is willing to live up to his words,” you smirked up at him.

“Oh y/n, you are going to regret doubting me,” he said before he gave you one last kiss on the lips before offering you his hand to lead you into the house where all your friends awaited to celebrate your miracle.

You giggled as you grabbed his hand and said, “I love you so much Lu.”

“I will never get sick of those words. I love you too,” he smiled down as your intertwined hands, “You really should get those tattooed.”

“Give me a few more like them and I will,” you teased pulling Lucien inside as he let out a small groan at the thought. Both of you eager to celebrate with your friends, and to finally be able to love each other fiercely for the rest of your lives.

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!

Tags:

@thelov3lybookworm @justdreamstars @character---obsessed @stained-glass-eyes0708 @acourtofbooksandshadows @sourapplex @b0xerdancer-writes @fireworksacrosshorizons @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @mis-lil-red @cleverzonkwombatsludge @emme-looou @bubybubsters @impossibelle @holywolfsstuff @acourtofbatboydreams @bloodicka @byyalady @kennedy-brooke @sassyslytherinshai @minnieoo @sh4nn @high-lady-of-books @fides25 @thisblogisaboutabook @breella @mirandasidefics @hardcoremarvelfan @thesnugglingduck @annaaaaa88

#acotar #acotar x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #cassian #nesta archeron #elain archeron #azriel #feyre acotar #mor acotar #rhysand

[thebigoblin]

as the sun rises

i've been working on this on & off for a couple weeks, and it's now complete! posting this here first, and will post it on ao3 this week!

He's just about to kiss Derek when he's pulled out of his sleep, his traitorous phone vibrating on his nightstand with a text message.

Who could be texting him? It's too early for socializing, and his brain is tired! But since he's not just a college student but also a human who runs with a wolf pack and is liable to delay rescue missions if he's not on his feet all the time — he's literally one-half of a two people operation in this pack who hold strategic braincells — he groans and opens his eyes.

His room is dark, but the curtains are blowing against a soft breeze, and slants of sunlight fall into place across his room. It's morning, then. Too early to really call it morning, but morning nonetheless.

Who would even text him right now? His pack cannot get in trouble this early in the day, can they?

Actually, they can, and they have in the past — he grabs his phone and opens it up to the text messages.

It's a message from Derek.

That says just one thing: Morning.

Stiles blinks at it. Tries to figure out if it is a secret code message or something. Scrolls back up further in their text thread, realizes Derek had an early night yesterday so of course he'd be awake early today, at 6 in the morning, and like all the mornings this past week he's sent Stiles a message.

Morning.

Normally, he does it at reasonable hours, like 8. Which is Derek's usual wake-up time, given his usually scheduled afternoon shifts at the BHPD. Like it's the very first thing he does, eyes still blurry from sleep.

It's a sweet, delusional thought borne of Stiles' own desperate greed for Derek's attention, and it chokes him as much as it pleases him.

And there goes his sleep, running away like a headless chicken, at his predicament of being in love with someone he can not have.

Derek Hale is a legend from the myths, a werewolf amongst humans; he's honor and pride intertwined with a gut of trust he's sharpened over the years, the mistakes of his youth lending him a jaded perspective on his once easily-given faith. He is a man turned ashen with tragedy, turned once again into technicolor as years have climbed up.

Stiles was there, at the intolerable stage of it. When Derek was barely a man, a kid alone in the world, hurting and grieving, persistently angry, and with no vision. And he's been there since, once a spectator turned into pages in Derek's book. He's seen him become the man he is now, their relationship blooming under the throes of violence, of almost-dead-but-not-yet celebrations, of the pack letting Derek down and Derek learning to be better for it, instead of sulking and lashing out.

He has watched Derek become who he is now, and he has fallen in love with a man who is one of the strongest people he knows, and it's devastating because why would someone like that love Stiles? There's so much that Derek deserves, so much of which Stiles can not give. He deserves all the good things, and Stiles isn't something like that, is he?

The morning goes on like this: him in the bed, under the covers, the wind blowing inside his room a gentle contrast to his harsh thoughts. He is a year into college now, he's dated a few guys and girls, felt attraction but no connection to them before he realized what's wrong with him — he couldn't connect with anyone because he's already given his heart away, and he knows this is it for him. He's gone and done for, the kind of once-in-a-lifetime love they try to sell in movies and shows and books his claim now, except for the part where he gets the guy and the life of his dreams.

Maybe, just maybe, in a couple of years, he would have moved on. But today, all he can hear in his room is the sound of his heart breaking, his breath hitching, all because of a simple text and his sadist brain.

He hurts in a way he never has. He knows grief — he's lost his mom and that hurt, too, and still does. There's a piece missing in him, a part of him forever buried with his mom, and he's learned to live without it. And this hurts too, the clarity of never having Derek, in a way that is different but somehow similar. He's grieving for something he never had, a future he dreams of but knows can never be his reality.

He allows himself to fall apart today.

*

It's the Christmas break, the weather outside slowly getting more chilly than it was when he woke up. He burrows under the covers, the wind pecking his skin, his limbs too heavy from exhaustion of having cried his hours away to get up and close the window.

He should have closed the window, really.

He's fully under the covers, tear-streaks dried on his cheeks, sticky and a tangible reminder of his woes. Still, he hears it when there's a sudden thump, of a familiar pair of boots landing on his floorboards, and a decisive click of his window being shut close.

"You'll catch a cold."

Of course he's here. Stiles doesn't want him here, not right now, not when —

"Stiles... are you okay? The room smells like you just cried."

If it was any other day, any other reason, he would have appreciated it. They have a no-bullshit relationship. It's honest and grueling, but ultimately, it works for them. Stiles knows Derek trusts him, and that is more than he ever expected to receive from him, of all people.

But he has Derek's trust, and he knows he can not have more. So, he can not lose this, too.

"G'way," he mumbles, "Please."

Time stretches, his request hanging in the air. Then, the bed near his legs dips down, Derek's warm hand finding Stiles' hand, the one outside the covers, and holding it gently. Derek's fingers wrap around his wrist, and the chill melts away.

"I was worried about you," Derek confesses, voice soft. "It's nearly nine, and you hadn't texted me back, and now you're like this. What's wrong?"

Not even a year ago, Derek would have left long as soon as something like this happened, too raw for conversations like this, too naive to navigate a healthy dialogue between friends.

That's what they are, right?

Stiles pulls his covers down until his face is visible to Derek, something which prompts Derek's hand to move to his face, give a soft caress. He truly is worried, eyebrows furrowed and everything.

"Just a bad morning, I guess," he says, and it's almost the truth.

Except. Except, Derek knows Stiles' truth and lies, and not just by his heartbeat.

"If I can help, whatever it is, I will. Just tell me." He's so earnest too, for fuck's sake.

He's a great friend, truly.

Stiles smiles, small and ironic. "You can, and you can't." Derek gives him a confused look. Stiles shrugs, the best he can while lying down on the bed. "Trust me."

"I do, Stiles. Don't you?"

Stiles is angry now. It comes as a surprise to him — a hot, white flash of anger, zipping through him like lightning.

He sits up on the bed so abruptly everything falls — the covers, his phone, him. Derek stops him from falling on his ass, though, arms around his waist.

Even before he's in no danger of hurting himself he's saying heatedly, "Don't fucking pull that card on me. You know I trust you, so much it's impossible to put into words. If you asked me to drive a dagger in my heart I would, I would trust you to keep me safe. So don't even, Derek Hale!"

"I'd rather take the dagger in my heart, Stiles." Derek's eyes are hard, alpha red creeping into them. "Tell me what's wrong." His jaw works, as if he's finding the right words, and Stiles' anger goes away as fast as it came — he slumps in Derek's arm, his weight on the man beside him. Finally, Derek says, "Is this... If Andrew did something, I'll slash his tires."

He isn't expecting this. The hell?

Andrew was the last person he went on a date with, almost two months ago. It didn't work out between them, it never does between Stiles and people, and this was more of the same. But the thing is, he didn't tell Derek about Andrew. It was their first and last date, and the only one he had told about it was...

Lydia.

Derek continues, oblivious to Stiles' confusion. "Ever since you came back to town you've been distant, and if it's because of something your boyfriend did —"

"Woah, what the fuck?" Stiles' voice rises, this time the heat replaced with a level of perplexed he hasn't felt since ages. "He's not my boyfriend, he's not my anything. We went on one date, like weeks ago. What's Lydia been telling you?"

A warmth blooms inside his chest at Derek being so protective of and vindictive for him, but he forces himself to not be affected by it right now. He can loathe Derek's instincts as an alpha when he's alone again.

Derek, for his part, parts his mouth in surpise. "Have I been stupid this entire time?" he says, more to himself than Stiles. "Then what's wrong with you?"

And now they're back at the problem asking for the problem.

Stiles sighs. "Listen. I'm happy you're such a good friend, but some things just aren't meant to be shared, okay?"

"You tell me everything." Stiles scoffs. "Stiles."

They both look out the window, where birds are flying, free from the complex human emotions. The sun is high in the sky, real morning now beginning.

"Why do you keep texting me anyways?"

Derek's eyebrows are raised when Stiles turns to look at him. They're seated with barely an inch between their bodies, and the turn of his neck has them almost sharing the same breath.

Stiles licks his lips, and he must imagine Derek's eyes tracking the movement.

"I can't ask you what's bothering you, and now I can't text you either?"

"Not what I— the morning texts, I meant. Of course you can text me, but the morning texts are new and I'm just... asking. And why can't you text me good morning? Why is it just a morning?"

Derek stares at him. Stiles knows he's thinking something, debating whether to share whatever is going through his head, or not.

"You don't have a boyfriend?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "No, Derek. I do not."

Derek takes a deep breath, as if he's bracing himself for something huge, something he has high hopes for, something he can not bear to lose but he has no idea if he gets to keep it.

Stiles suddenly has a feeling, and if that is true, he's going to murder himself just to relive the pain one last time, because if what he's thinking is true, then he's stupid as fuck and he deserves it.

"I text you morning and not a good morning because the mornings aren't good."

"Okay... why aren't they? Good, I mean."

Derek is looking into his eyes, a vulnerability in them that Stiles has seen before, but still it feels like he's seeing it for the first time. Like this is a part of Derek he hasn't seen previously, a part that has been kept hidden purposefully finally brought to light.

Derek moves, and the miniscule distance between them is gone, eaten up by the anticipation building in the room.

Derek's hands come up to caress Stiles' face, thumb rubbing circles at the dried tear-tracks, the motion comforting. He says, "Every morning, I wake up in my bed, alone, and it's such a shitty way to start my day. Every morning is just another day, and all I can think is, the mornings would be good, really good, if you were in my bed with me, too."

Stiles swallows hard against the lump forming in his throat. "You're joking."

"Never, not with us. Not about this."

Stiles' breath hitches. Derek comes closer, rests their forehead together. Stiles closes his eyes against the closeness, the dread that this is a dream.

"You're too important to me for me to make a joke out of this, Stiles."

He's crying again. "But I don't deserve you."

Suddenly, the warmth of Derek is gone.

When Stiles opens his eyes, Derek is pacing, a glower on his face.

"Isaac can't be right, can he?" Stiles makes a confused noise. Derek rounds on him, then decides sitting down on his knees is a better option. Stiles' morning is so confusing, he starts counting Derek's fingers as well as his own when Derek holds both his hands, rests their limbs on Stiles' thighs.

There's twenty fingers. Ten his, ten of Derek's.

"Stiles. Why don't you deserve me?"

He does his best to not cry. "You're... amazing, Derek. I. I'm just me, you know?"

It seems silly to say it. It's one thing to believe it, another to put it into words.

Derek squeezss his hands. "I've loved you for a long time, longer than I have realized it."

"What?"

"And I felt the same. You're you, and I'm just me. You deserve better."

"You are the best thing that can happen to anyone!"

Derek chuckles at Stiles' vehemence, squeezes his hands once again. "Pot's calling the kettle black. I felt the same, you know," he repeats. "That you deserve better. So I never told you. And you started dating others. But then..."

"Isaac. What has he told you?" He doesn't know what he could have told Derek. It's not like Stiles and Isaac are close, but there are things their pack does, like meddle in each other's affairs, that has him realizing how troublesome their pack is.

It's not like Stiles has even a single subtle bone in his body.

Derek smiles. "He told me that he's got a bet going for us to get together before the New Year." Stiles isn't surprised, not really. He smiles back. "Yeah, the pups have a bet going, and Lydia and Isaac seem to be on the same page."

"Jesus. Her too? What did you say?"

"The whole pack is in on it. I was surprised they would do such a thing. They can't force two people together when one of them isn't into the other one." He moves forward, until their foreheads are touching once again, and this time, Stiles takes one of his hands and presses it to Derek's head, cards his fingers through the soft hair.

"Then what happened?" He prompts.

"Isaac laughed in my face when I told him I was disappointed because I didn't think he and others would stoop so low. And then he told me I might be an alpha but that I'm stupid if I haven't been able to figure out that you like me back."

Stiles laughs, rather nervously. "I always worried you'd figure it out and we'd not be close anymore."

"I did figure it out, actually."

"WHAT?" He shouts it in Derek's ear, who winces and pulls back. "Sorry, but why the fuck didn't you say anything?"

Derek stays on his knees, but he inches a bit backwards, creating a safe distance between Stiles' mouth and his ears. "I didn't want to lose you."

"How could you lose me when you liked me and realized that I liked you back? That doesn't even make sense." Derek gives him a look. Stiles rolls his eyes. "See, I didn't say anything because I've always believed you deserve nice things, and I've mutually never believed I'm a nice thing. But if you told me you liked me... I would have been selfish."

Derek's expression turns soft. "You're the best thing to happen to me, even as just friends." Stiles' cheeks heat at the proclamation, and he ducks his head. When he looks back up, Derek is smiling back at him. "I've wanted you to be mine for a long time. And when I say mine, I mean it. For life. Building a future together and all the good and bad that follows. But all I could figure out... at least what I thought I figured out... was that you liked me casually."

Stiles gets up from the end of the bed and pulls Derek up by offering him a hand, which he takes with a full-tilt smile, bunny teeth and all. "No part of me is casual for you. I never believed I could feel like this, but if anything, everything I feel for you is cosmic."

Derek's smile grows until it's a full-on grin, and Stiles feels the width of it, the rush of Derek's blood, the pure joy of their stupidity taking second place to communication in the kiss Derek pulls him into — Derek's arms wrap around his waist, his own around Derek's shoulders, sliding up and down, on his stubble, his cheeks, his hair. The kiss itself is sweet and hot, their mutual joy imprinting itself in the endless journey of time with their noises of appreciation.

They kiss and kiss, tongues touching and lips bitten raw, until the necessity of oxygen forces them apart. As soon as they break apart Derek moves on to his neck, the press of his lips electric, and Stiles is the happiest man on Earth.

Well. Except for Derek, of course.

"Good morning, Derek."

Derek growls and bites down, intent on marking. "The best morning," he agrees, and Stiles can only moan, feel the pain of being claimed, and revel in the moment.

He still has thoughts of being unworthy in the back of his mind, but what he told Derek was true: if Derek wants him, he'll be his. He'll be selfish.

He'll love Derek Hale as long as he breathes.

Once the hickey is painted on Stiles' neck, Derek tips his jaw, their eyes locking onto each other. He says, "I love you so fucking much, baby."

Stiles smiles. Derek seems to be on the same page as him, and it's starting to feel like Stiles will be a part of Derek's book for a long, long time.

Maybe, just maybe, till even the last page of the book.

It truly is a good morning.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fics #sh.writesonmain #inspired by a post i saw on insta

[redwinterroses]

Oh gosh I already have Such Thoughts around Loremaster Pix and I haven't even checked the tag to see what other people are saying yet but hang on gotta braindump--

His whole intro was about the old gods and titans dying and creating this world, their blood and bones becoming the civilizations that followed, which in turn fell and left their ruins to be the foundations of empires to follow. (Story nerd bit: so that means, I think, we are at least in the "third age" of this world: the gods and titans, then the ancients, and now the empires.)

But how does he know these things, unless he was there?

What if Pix is, as he said he wants to be, less a character and more a... a force, if you will. He is the past. He's a forgotten titan, a diminished god, a spirit of time and memory. A lorekeeper, a storyteller, a secret-holder... More and yet less than an emperor, less and yet more than a player in the tale. Maybe he doesn't remember it all -- diminishing can be hard on an immortal. But he remembers enough, enough to tell the story of the world and lead the current inhabitants to uncover the histories of their own lands.

And if I maybe headcanon that the Ancients were Empires s1, and this keeper of ancient stories could be a certain lost and forgotten desert king who vanished when his diminished immortality came sparking to hesitant life... you can't stop me.

#empires s2 #empires smp #empires spoilers #pixlriffs #current headcanon until canon contradicts me: #the Copper King was so intrigued by the concepts of death and rebirth because he was a diminished immortal who didn't remember his own past #the encounters with Xornoth and Aeor and the rest triggered lost memories and he became overwhelmed by the knowledge #fleeing into the desert he's spent the last few centuries slowly coming to grips with his own immortality and the ragged scraps of memories #and now new empires have begun to rise and he looks at them with both the distant fascination of an immortal #someone who has seen these things rise and fall before and will again #and also with the eerie sense that he's seen these SPECIFIC empires #in another time and another guise #the familiarity amongst the strange has drawn him out of his solitude and he rejoins the world of mortals #this time quietly aware that he is Not One Of Them... and yet he might be when he allows himself to pretend #a way for me to keep my copper king and make the storyline one big cohesive thread? yes. shush. you can't take this from me #well. pix can but I'm a fangirl and we thrive on jumping the hoops of Making It Work lol #the empire of the past

[g3tosugu]

their reactions to you showing up with an injury

wriothesley, neuvillette, baizhu, alhaitham, xiao x f!reader

cw: mentions of blood and injuries (nothing terribly graphic), weapons, fighting, mentions of kidnapping. please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: i will admit xiao's is not in keeping with the prompt bc you dont really "show up" injured but this is my post and i can do as i please teehee :3c

Wriothesley

As you carefully make your way down through the Fortress of Meropide, you keep your guard up. The wound that you sustained is causing a searing pain to spread across your side. Once you make it through the doors to Wriothesley's office, you finally collapse to your knees. "Is someone there?" you hear Wriothesley's voice ring out from upstairs. "It's just me" you respond in a much weaker voice than you anticipated. You really had spent all of your energy. You force yourself to your feet and begin the daunting ascension up the stairs. Once you reach the top, you see him sitting at his desk, eyes glued to a document in front of him. Before you can even say anything, you're falling to your knees again.

"Y/n?!" Wriothesley immediately jumps out of his chair and runs over to your side. "Archon, what happened to you? Let me go notify someone to get Miss Sigewinne" he started towards the stairs behind you. "No!" you stop him, "Please just...don't bother her with this". "Sweetheart, don't be ridiculous. Do you know how she would feel if she heard you say that?" he returns back to your side and kneels down to check you over. His eyes snap immediately to the red splotch on your right side.

"You're bleeding. We need to get you to the infirmary now-"

"Sigewinne told me there was a group of individuals she overheard saying mean things about her while she was visiting the surface. She confided in me and I comforted her to reassure her that they are foolish and don't know what they are talking about" you explain. Wriothesley stares at you as his brain connects the dots.

"Y/n-"

"Don't say it. I know. I had never seen Sigewinne so saddened before. It pained me to see her feel so down about herself over the words of some random mean spirited people. I don't want her to know I went looking for them and got hurt. It would only make her feel worse".

Wriothesley looks at you with sympathy in his eyes, "I can't say I wouldn't have had similar instincts. I’m just surprised you were stupid enough to act on them". "Thanks" you roll your eyes and try to rise to your feet again. He's quick to assist you and help you move to the couch. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get some supplies" he quickly disappears.

When he returns, he begins tending to your wounds. Once he sees the cut on your side, scrapes on your arms, the scrape on your cheek and the dried blood on your hands, he feels his body heat with anger. "I'm not the one who wanted to fight. I just wanted to tell them off. There was one guy that got physical first" you start explaining how it happened. That alone just made him angrier. He clenches his jaw and bites his tongue to allow you to keep speaking. "He told me to mind my business and that he didn't even know who I was until I told him. That's when he realized that..." you trail off. Wriothesley's eyes look up from your wound for a moment. "His brother is a prisoner here at the fortress. He told me that you had his sentence increased after there was an altercation between him and another prisoner" you admit.

"That has nothing to do with you though" he finishes bandaging your wound. He hands you one of his black button down shirts to wear since your own clothing was ruined. As you button the shirt, he searches your face. "You're not telling me something" he puts a hand on his hip. "Why would he get you involved in something that’s between me and him?" he questions. "It's not about me being involved with what happened. It's that he knows we’re together" you play with the hem of the shirt. His arms drop to his side, "He attacked you as a means of hurting me?". You nod and sigh in response. He sits down next to you and throws an arm around you to pull you into his side. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and you notice the fist in his lap that is curled into a tight fist.

"Please, tell me the name of this gentleman. Because I'll be damned if I let him hurt my girl without punishment".

Neuvillette

It was your own fault for getting curious about this cavern you had found out on one of your adventure guild commissions. Now, here you are limping to the Palais Mermonia. It's later in the evening so there are hardly any people out. There was a Melusine who noticed you were injured but you told her you were going to see the Chief Justice and that he would take care of you.

You walk through the doors of Neuvillette's office and he immediately turns to face you, ignoring the document he was just glancing over. When he notices the limp in your walk he is quick to come to your aid. "You're injured? Please, allow me" he scoops you off your feet and carries you over to the sofa. When you're sitting comfortably, he kneels to the ground to examine your ankle.

"It appears it's just twisted. Best you keep off of it as much as possible for the time being" he sighs in relief. When he stands back up and looks down at you, that's when he notices the cut you have on your cheek as well. He disappears without saying a word and returns with a cloth and a bottle of some sort of clear liquid. He sits next to you and puts some of the liquid on the cloth before gently applying it to your cut. You wince at the sting for a moment and he stops, "This is just to prevent it from getting infected. I apologize if it is painful" he continues to gently dab at the injury. "I do wish you would be more careful when you're out doing your tasks" he softly lectures you. "I know" you nod, "I'm sorry". "You need not apologize to me, my dear. I am just simply voicing my concern for you" he places the bottle of liquid and cloth on the table.

"I don't want you to worry about me" you reach over and brush some of the hair from his face. As your hand falls away, he grabs your fingertips in his hand and places a soft kiss to the back of your own. "I know you don't. I don't necessarily want to worry so often either" he admits and holds your hand in between both of his and places it in his lap. "Do you ever wish I worked here at the Palais with you instead of with the Adventurer’s Guild?" you ask. "Hmm" he thinks about your question for a moment. "My initial answer would be yes. But I'm afraid it's just for my own selfish reasons so they carry no relevance" he soothingly rubs your hand.

You place your other hand on top of his, "If I didn't want your honest thoughts I wouldn't have asked. So please be open with me, my love" you cup his cheek. He leans into your touch and sighs. "I would prefer if you worked at the Palais so I could keep a better eye on you, yes. Knowing you are away and willingly putting yourself in danger does fill me with a sense of anxiety. It's strange. In all my years of living amongst humans I've never known what it would be like to feel such strong attachments to one" he goes on. Your heart leaps at his earnest confession. "I will consider your words. I'd be lying if I didn't say I wanted to be in your presence more often. Either way I think we work well together and I wouldn't be opposed to working in a less physically demanding environment" you give him some hope. "My dear, you don't need to meet my wishes so easily. Please give it some more consideration before making any definitive decisions" he leans over and kisses your forehead.

"It is my duty to protect the people of Fontaine but it is my privilege to be your companion".

Baizhu

It's embarrassing really. Qiqi had encountered an issue at the pharmacy this morning when someone requested some Qingxin and for some reason there were none in stock. "Oh, um, I'm sorry...It appears we are completely out of Qingxin" she apologized to the customer. You could see how truly distraught she was at the situation so you went out on your own to retrieve some Qingxin. How were you supposed to know it was going to start raining and you would slip and fall in the mud?

When you hit the ground, the arm you had out to brace yourself with made contact with a jagged piece of stone. After washing the wound with water from a nearby stream, you tried your best to get some of the earth off your clothing. Then, you were on your way. Unfortunately, the ten Qingxin you were able to collect turned into four after your fall. They had not only been completely ruined by the mud but a couple had landed underneath you, effectively being crushed under your weight.

You brace yourself for the lecture you are more than likely going to receive from Baizhu. Walking into his home, you see him sitting in a chair looking at a book of some sort. His eyes look up from the book so he can greet you and he sees the poor state you are in. "What in Teyvat happened, my love?" he rises to his feet and places his book on the table. "Well...I was getting Qingxin because Qiqi said we didn't have any at the pharmacy and then it started raining" you take off your coat and wince at the pain in your arm. His eyes widen, "Let's get you cleaned up and then I will get started on tending to your injuries".

One quick shower and a set of fresh loungewear later, you are sitting on the couch as Baizhu tends to you. "You really should be more careful. I would hate for something truly awful to happen to you and I can't be there to aid you" he sighs as he carefully works on finishing the stitches for your arm. The rock apparently ended up cutting you deeper than you had originally thought. "I just didn't want Qiqi to be upset" you look at the ground. His eyes look up from your arm for a moment to look at your face. The genuine disappointment in your own eyes makes his heart sink.

"It was very kind of you to go out of your way to help her. I'm sure you know it also means a great deal to me that you care for her so deeply" he starts wrapping your arm in a bandage. You look over at him with a gentle smile. "She always tries her best despite her own circumstances. In a way, I'm almost envious of her" you admit. Baizhu grabs your legs and places them over his lap. He lifts the material of your lounge pants up your legs and his hands begin to knead at the flesh of your legs to soothe your aching muscles. "You know she wouldn't want you to put yourself in any imminent danger just for her sake, yes?" he inquires. You nod in response and look down in shame.

"I don't mean to make you feel bad. That is never my intention. I just wish you cared for yourself the way you care for others" he slides the legs of your lounge pants back down as he finishes massaging your muscles. "I'll work on it" you smile apologetically at him. He smiles warmly in response before pulling you onto his lap. You snake your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist. His hair is freed from its usual styling and is freshly combed through. You tuck some of his hair behind his ear. A soft hum emits from his throat as he turns his head to kiss your wrist, prompting you to keep your hand near. The gesture warms your heart and you gently cup his cheek in your hand.

"Who needs Qingxin when I've got the most valuable and healing flower in all of Teyvat, right here at my fingertips".

Alhaitham

The last thing you expected was to get ambushed by a bunch of eremites just outside of Sumeru City. It was a five man group of former associates of Ayn Al-Ahmar. The plan was to kidnap you and hold you hostage as a means of getting Alhaitham to fall into a trap they would have preemptively set up. Fortunately for you, Dehya was near the entrance of Sumeru City when she heard you trying to fight off the group of men in the distance and noticed a flash of a vision ability from where she stood. When she got there, you were clearly already visibly spent. There was still one man in a standoff with you. 

In your moment of weakness, you stumble forward and before you could even react, the man darts towards you and attempts to sink his dagger into your abdomen. You quickly try to defend yourself and manage to grab his wrist. Even though you have your grip on him, he uses as much strength as he can and you can feel the tip of the blade pierce your skin. You grunt and grind your teeth as you desperately use the strength you no longer have to fight him off. Dehya quickly takes action and subdues the man before he has the chance to overpower you. Now that you can finally put your guard down, you place your hand where the dagger had got you. The blood that appears on your hands as you pull your palm away makes you queasy and dizzy. "Y/n? Hey! Y/n!" you hear Dehya call out to you and see her run toward you. But it's no use. You fall to the ground unconscious.

When you awake, you look around you and notice you are in Alhaitham's living room. "You're awake" you hear Alhaitham say at your side. You turn your head and he's sitting on the loveseat across from the one you are on. As you go to sit up you are immediately met with a burning pain in your side. "Hey, easy. Don't move too much" he comes to your side and gently pushes you back down onto your back. "I had Tighnari drop off some incense to help relax your body and hopefully speed along the healing process" he explains as he carefully adjusts the pillow underneath your head and sits down on the edge of the loveseat. You look up at the ceiling, "How did I even get here?".

He sighs, "Dehya brought you. I sent Kaveh out to get some first aid supplies". "They did this because of me didn't they?" he gently places his hand over where you were stabbed. "Don't do that Alhaitham" you grab his hand with your own. "I'm not saying I claim responsibility for what happened. I just don't think it's worth being in a relationship with me" he admits wholeheartedly, but not in a self pitying way. If anything he pities the fact that you ended up in this position due to something that was beyond your control. "It's not going to take a fight with a bunch of guys, who have nothing better to do, to make me just walk away from this" you squeeze his hand.

"This?" he looks down at you. "What? I think what we have together is much more precious to me than you may realize" you search his eyes for an inkling of what he may currently be thinking. A gentle smile appears on his face. "You mean everything to me. I mean it" he brushes a small strand of hair away from your face. You feel the weight of the loveseat shift underneath you as Alhaitham leans down and places a tender kiss to your lips. Your hand reaches up to the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss.

"Okay! I'm back with-" Kaveh suddenly walks into the house. Alhaitham immediately removes himself from you with a grunt. "You just couldn't wait at least five more minutes before barging in here?" he complains. Kaveh places the items he was asked to retrieve on the table. "Oh, well excuse me for trying to gather the items that are supposed to help her feel better" he barks. Alhaitham just glares at him with his eyes narrowed. "Okay, fine! I get it. I'll leave you to suck face with your girlfriend" he disappears into his room with a huff.

"He's just jealous he's not the one out here that gets to kiss you the way I get to".

Xiao

Yep, you are definitely lost. All you were tasked with was going to Liyue Harbor to get some produce for Wangshu Inn. At some point down the line in your route, you came across a group of monsters and in an attempt to avoid them you went another way. Unfortunately the way you went instead ended up leading you down a path you were unfamiliar with.

A rustle in the bushes to your left startles you, causing you to trip over your feet and fall to the ground. The produce you had gathered from Liyue Harbor is now scattered on the ground all around you. As you lift your arm to start gathering the items back together, you wince and notice a pretty deep cut. You grit your teeth and try to ignore it. The rustling in the bushes startles you once again except this time, a wild boar is charging out towards you. It knocks into you and you go to take a step back to catch yourself but you fail to notice the drop off of the cliff. You slip and fall but somehow manage to catch yourself on a piece of foliage growing out of the side of the cliff edge. The arm you are forced to use to hold yourself up is the arm with the cut. Pain sears through your arm and you feel your grip slipping. Before you can catch yourself, the anchor you once held onto slips through your fingers. You are now free falling.

Your mind is filled with thoughts of Xiao and the moment you shared before you left Wangshu Inn for Liyue Harbor. He told you to be safe and call his name if you ran into trouble and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before reassuring you would be safe. "Adeptus Xiao!" you shout up at the sky as you force your eyes shut. Within an instant you feel a pair of arms around you and in the blink of an eye you are safely on the ground. You fall to your knees as your legs give out under you from the panic that continues coursing through your body.

Xiao kneels down in front of you and places a hand on your cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now" he speaks low and soft. You look at him and start to steady your breathing. "I-" you stutter, "I am sorry for being so careless". "Shh" he shushes you, "I'm just relieved you're alright". He checks you over and notices the cut on your arm and his face hardens. "We need to get you back to Wangshu Inn. Please take my hand?" he holds his hand out for you to take and you of course oblige. And almost as quickly as you take his hand in yours, you are back at Wangshu Inn.

He leads you over to his bed and has you sit down. "I'll be right back to dress your wound" he swiftly exits. When he comes back he begins cleaning your wound with a rag and starts applying an ointment of some sort. "It's supposed to speed up the healing process" he notices you looking at it with curious eyes. As he bandages your arm you study his face. "Why are you looking at me?" he tries to fight back a grin. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you. Adeptus Xiao" you smile fondly at him. His eyes snap up to yours and you can almost feel a pull between the two of you. You both subconsciously lean toward each other until you are just centimeters away from each other's faces. Your breaths tangle together between the two of you as he presses his forehead against yours. His hand reaches for the side of your head and he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is almost urgent. Like you don't have much time left together. Your hand lifts to wrap around the wrist of his hand that gently cradles the side of your head. When your lips part, your foreheads press together again. "You should get some sleep. It will help you heal faster" he removes his hand from your head. As you get comfortable in the bed, he crawls in beside you and holds you against his chest. "Why did you wait until after you fell to call for me?" he asks. "What?" you feign ignorance. "The marks on your hand" he grabs your hand in his and opens your palm to reveal small cuts that you obtained when your grip slipped. "I thought I could save myself" you sigh in disappointment. He kisses your forehead and tucks your head under his chin.

"I know that you are more than capable of saving yourself. But don't ever forget it is always my honor to save you. There aren't many things I hold close to me in this existence. But you are the most precious thing I will always hold close".

#genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x reader #neuvillete x reader #neuvillette fluff #baizhu x reader #baizhu fluff #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff

[dcxdpdabbles]

Red Yummy

Based on the post by @spacedace. Basically it's a joke that Red Robin (the restaurant with the little jingle: Reeed Robin: Yummm.) Isn't a thing in the DC world but is one in the Phantom world.

The rip in the multiverse was an issue the Justice League was not at all prepared for. Sure they had incidents where visitors from an alternate universe have crossed over to their side or they have gone to one. There are times when they meet doubles of themselves, both as allies and as enemies.

They have been to different Earths, with different histories, different countries, and that one particular time, even different beings that ruled the planet.

It's always been an adventure where at the end of it, the doorway to both worlds is sealed shut, with little or no chance of it opening again. The friends they made. The sights they saw. All gone. Fine. Over.

That was, until a villain from a different world, attempted to attack Clockwork's Tower. The Justice League was not aware of Clockwork- Master of Time, Weaver of Realms, The Concept of Between- but they noticed that he had been attacked when other worlds started spilling into theirs.

People were falling through glowing green portals, stumbling into buildings that weren't there before. People who were just going out for walks would be zapped away and replaced with their confused counterparts.

Parts of the sky glitch into others, replacing the soft blue with brown or black, little patches scattering around the world. Cities vanish for a few hours, sometimes replaced by others sometimes not, and animals never before seen running amok.

It was a mess.

The League did everything it could to help, but it was hard to stretch their reach to the help then world when all reality was being thrown into a mixer and set on chaos.

A lot like busted pipes, the Leaugers would run to cover a leaking pipe only to have the water build up in another and burst there and then scramble to cover that one before the rising water drowned them all.

Thankfully the Justice League Dark was able to use magic and find the source of the leak. The Infinite Realms known as the web that linked all universes, are usually only accessible by the dead, or in Constantine's case having friends in high places.

"Ghost Writer owes me a favor," Constantine said while the rest of the Leauge watched a flouting green book descend from the sky. It flipped open, expanding into a gateway. The smoke of the book curled into little missy hearts.

"Ghost Writer?" Zatanna gawked "How did you get such a powerful, and notoriously recluse, being to owe you anything?"

"Let's just say, we both appreciate the finer things in life and that ghost has a rather fine ass" Constantine leered. No one had asked for any more detail, although Zatanna had the expression of someone who had bitten something sour the whole time.

Ghost Writer had given Constantine a warning that his power would only be able to protect five living souls. Any more would be at the mercy of the Infinite Realms'.

Humans that wandered into the Realms were more often than not driven into madness, became hopelessly lost, or had their souls swindled by beings that dwelled there. Not that it wasn't surprising.

After all, the living did not belong there, so of course they were a danger to the Realms' structure. Hell, there were rumors that a living being could produce fresh uncorrupted ectoplasm when killed or even kept like livestock.

Constantine did not want to find out if the rumors had any truth to them.

To be able to travel safely they had to fall under a powerful ghost's protection and Ghost Writers let them know to pick their five best.

It was decided that Constantine would go as their expert, Batman as their strategist, Wonder Woman as their diplomat and protection, Superman as second protection, and Zatanna as another magic user that could combat the dead.

The rest of the league remained, doing their best to hold their universe together as the team of five rushed off to put everything to right. It was agonizing not knowing what was happening or how the mission was going but they did what they could and placed their trust in the five.

Many of the Justice League didn't say it, but it was the remaining Bats that sort of kept everything afloat in their father's absence. Each one leads a group of young heroes, easily countering and controlling their self-appointed sectors of the world.

Nightwing and Titians.

Red Robin and Young Justice.

Red Hood and the Outlaws.

Oracle and the Birds of Prey

Robin and the Blades.

All five groups agree to use the Watch Tower as a central base to coordinate their defenses against the world falling apart. Trading information with each other quickly and efficiently, and using this new information to prepare for more ripples of universes, showcasing that Batman had taught them well.

Following their example, the rest of the Justice League did what they could to minimize the damage. It was on the second day of constant relief efforts that everything was snapped back to normal.

A giant wave of sound- the noise sounding a lot like a grandfather clock strick repeating over and over again- as things that were not meant to be in their world vanished and their own people and things returned.

The shy's patches were removed and the right color returned.

Even property damages that were caused by the incident were reversed as if reality falling apart was nothing but a dream. No wreckages to clean up, no people had gone missing, and best of all, no casualties had been taken.

The Leauge gathered around Ghost Writer's book watching it open as the five returned, cheering and screaming, giving them the proper hero's welcome. Then right behind their teammates, a second group followed through.

Three glowing figures, all dressed in the same black and white outfits, and a ship carrying four humans. Batman introduced them as the allies who helped defend Clockwork's Tower and keep the multi-universe from collapsing.

He did admit that just because it was no longer falling apart, it did not mean that the rip had been closed. In fact, it was the only thing left to do but it was proving to be difficult due to Clockwork himself not understanding why their world wasn't healing.

Clockwork couldn't leave the Realms for too long- if no one was there to keep Time running the same thing would happen all over again- but he did give them equipment that could in theory patch things up on their side.

They just needed someone who understood the equipment.

Team Phantom, led by Danny Phantom, one of the flowing figures was happy to volunteer. They would be staying for three years, to strengthen and rebuild their Universe structure.

Team Phantom consisted of Dan Phantom, Danielle Phantom, Jasmin Fenton, Tucker Foley, Samantha Manson, and Westley Weston. All young, kind, strong- Batman vouched for the non-powered members claiming they could go toe to toe with his kids- and all much to the joy of many young heroes- attractive. They played an essential role on the team, doing whatever their people and kind did to help Clockwork, staying out of the League's way.

They all seemed happy to live as close to civilians as possible and despite their strength and combat training, Team Phantom was more like a research party instead of a hero.

Since they would be there for three years- more depending on the Speed Force's effect on the timeline grumbles Tucker- the seven had chosen to set down some roots within their dimension.

The three Phantoms needed Ectoplasim to live- a rare substance in the Justice League's universe- so they chose Gotham as their new home. Batman was more than willing to allow them into his city, as long as they knew not to interfere with his work.

Things settled, The Justice League moved on to other missions and other issues while Team Phantom ran tests, gathered information, and worked on the timeline.

The only real issue Bruce had with Team Phantom, was that a majority of his kids were romanticly interested in them.

Dick's love-struck sigh, whenever Dan wandered by, would often lead to useless backflips in an ill-fated attempt to impress him.

Jason would conventionally be lifting weights shirtless whenever Jazz came by with an update report. Then he would mention some novel or other that had the girl's attention far better than his abs.

Steph had taken a very large interest in gardening and at the same time, started wearing shorter shorts and tighter tops because Sam seemed to adore flowers.

Cass meanwhile found every excuse there was to be dressed in the prettiest dresses she owned whenever Wes was anywhere near her. She even wore light makeup- a real sign of how much she was interested in the conspiracy theorist.

Duke seemed over the moon whenever Tucker asked for his personal help on anything technical-related. It did his son wonders that someone thought of him first when it came to tech- Duke has always been a bit self-conscious of his place among geniuses- would be all but speaking in poems to the bemused teenager.

Damian's crush on Ellie did melt Bruce's heart a little. It was his baby's first after all, but he wasn't sure if Damian's approach was doing anything. Put him on the battlefield and Damian could lead to victory. Put him next to a pretty young girl and all his son was capable of doing was stare and babble.

The only one that didn't seem to have a crush on Team Phantom was Tim. Which should have given him reassurance except for the small little detail.

"Red Robin" Danny sings upon Tim's arrival at the cave. Officially tonight they are all going over the results of the latest tests on the universe's structure. Unofficially Team Phantom had been invited over for dinner by Alfred and they were looking over the Batcave as their butler finished preparing the main course.

At once every member of Team Phantom raises their head, turning away from his love-struck children to his flustered son and singing "Yum" with wide smiles.

Tim's face goes bright red.

Apparently, Tim was their universe version of Adonis and Team Phantom had no issue with expressing how yummy they found Tim. Now Bruce isn't saying that he would be against Tim having more than one romantic partner- he has made sure to look up proper healthy poly relationships and given Tim a PowerPoint version of it.

It's just that he isn't sure how he's going to handle supporting one of his children while breaking the heart of another. Tim seems unsure how to handle so much romantic attention- he's had plenty of relationships before- but said attention is picking him before any of his siblings is a first.

Bruce knows that deep down Tim still struggles with thinking he's not as good as the others. That he really is just a placeholder in the long run.

Then there is the fact he isn't sure how their culture works. Is the singing like a mating call? Was there a chance they would earn the irk of Clockwork himself if Tim accidentally accepted their advances? Why was it always Red Robin and not just Tim himself that made Team Phantom go yummmm?

"Hi guys" Tim greets at least and Danny grins wider.

"Reeeeed Robbbbbin" " The ghost boy says throwing an arm over Tim's shoulders. Sam and Tucker surround them, making their voices sound strange as all three start singing, rocking Tim back and forth in a strange little dance.

"Yummmmm!"

From the corner of his eyes, Bruce makes out Dick's protective Older Brother's face, as his eldest starts marching towards the group with the intent of breaking them apart. He's been very vocal about putting an end to Team Phantom's flirtations if he saw so much as a hint of Tim's unease.

Except that Tim looked utterly bliss being pressed up against Danny. Maybe he should rethink Tim's disinterest in Team Phantom. The rest of his children looked murderous as more members of Team Phantom gathered around Tim also singing.

Bruce had to deal with this for three whole years. He can physically feel his hair turning greyer.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Red Yummy #In which Team Phantom is just singing a commercial #And the DC world think they all romantically like Tim #Tim is in fact into Danny #None of Team Phantom is aware of their admirers #None of them are exactlly socially popular back home they just think the Waynes are nice #Yes it was Vlad's fault #Bruce's pov #I JUST HAD TO WRITE IT #IT'S SO FUNNY

[fieldofdaisiies]

Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 3

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,8k words | masterlist

"She is waking up."

Someone is talking, but you don’t know who it is, have never heard that voice before. 

"Is she?" But that voice, you have heard before. And it makes your heart race, panic surging through you and gripping your insides with its invisible claws of fire and ice.

"Yes, Cassian," the female voice states. "She is waking. Thank the Mother."

You shudder — both from feeling cold and the mention of his name. 

"Don‘t worry. Nothing will happen to you, you are safe." The female close to you must have felt your slight tremor, trying to soothe you. Under different circumstances you would have been grateful for this act — now, you can’t really accept it. You don’t know what to do with it. Can you trust her? The stranger? She is so close and it scares you, your eyes not yet opening. But you need to see, to know where you are, and what is going on. 

You ponder over her words, the mention of the word safe…

Nowhere is safe, you think. Not while Cassian and Azriel exist. With them in your life you are nowhere safe. And why the hell did you allow yourself to fall asleep?

You can’t allow yourself to let that happen again. You can't allow yourself such reckless mistakes. You always need to be focused, one step ahead of your enemies. 

Ignoring the voices, you struggle to rise, but your throbbing head spins you off balance.

"Where am I?" you breathe, not recognising your own voice. It sounds weaker than usual, hoarse and ragged. "What do you want from me?"

Blinking against harsh light, only shadows greet your blurred vision. You can only make out silhouettes, no faces, no bodies. Some people stand close to you, some a little further away and one lone figure at the door. You don’t have to see them to know who they are. 

You would always recognise him. Azriel. You start to tremble, your knees feeling wobbly despite sitting down. Blinking rapidly, slowly the haze starts to fade, and everything becomes clearer.

"We regret what occurred. Regret the measures we had to take."

The voice, oddly familiar, leaves you unsettled and cold sweat builds up on the back of your neck. 

"You…" Your breath catches as a large, towering figure appears. Imposing, graceful, powerful.

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his trousers, his violet eyes trained on you. His features are sharp, but his expression is oddly soft.

"Are you…?" Your voice breaks before you can finish your question. 

"Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." The male's voice is loud and strong. "Lady Y/N, I am sorry for what my father—"

"Gods!"

Rhysand. He looks different. Older. More mature. Like his father. You had only seen him a few times back then, never really talked to him, but you knew what he looked like. Everyone did.

You lift your hand. "Don‘t. Don’t apologise. I don’t want to hear that. It was centuries ago and...I don't want to hear it." You can't hear it. Not some silly apologies for things no apologising would ever be enough for.

You don’t want to talk about it — about what happened to you, about what has been done to you. You don’t want the memories to turn up again. You can't let them reach the surface ever again. And most definitely, not now.

Not with Azriel present.

There is unresolved business with everyone in this room, but in this moment it can’t be dealt with. You are not strong enough, your powers still haven’t returned, and there are too many people protecting each other in this moment. 

Rhysand dips his chin, slowly assessing you. "You may wonder why we freed you?" he changes the topic. 

The High Lord surrounds the couch and claims a seat on the couch table in front of you, but you remain silent.

"We need your help." Again, you offer no response.

"It concerns Koschei, the—"

"Death God." Your lips part, meeting his violet gaze. "Why me?"

And so they explain. Everything and in great detail and you listen. To everything that is said until your head feels heavy and starts to spin. It is too much, too many people, too many noises, too much information. 

Azriel stays at the door, and you fight the urge to look at him, not trusting yourself to not lunge at him again and try to claw his eyes out. Your hands are still shackled and telling by the scent of it, the High Lord of Night definitely put a protective shield around you — not to protect you, but rather the others from you.  

You listen carefully to every word that is said, but sometimes your thoughts stray. To Azriel. To the Prison. To what has been done to you and to the betrayal. And to what you know of Koschei. It is so much, your brain nearly breaks your through skull. 

"The bone carver, his—"

"Brother." Another female appears in your vision, she looks beautiful and young and there is a child on her arm. "He is dead. Gave his life for the sake of Prythian."

You speak a silent prayer to the Mother for another old friend you lost. Whispers of Stryga‘s death reached you some time ago and it sent a pang of hurt to your heart. Slowly, everyone is fading from this world, also Lanthys whose charm and lethality you truly came to love in the Prison and mist desperately when he no longer was.

"Meet my wife, my mate and High Lady of the Night Court." Rhysand’s reaches his arm out, curling it around the young female. "Feyre Archeron and our son, Nyx." Rhysand also introduces all the other people in the room, but your mind catches on the High Lady part and for one moment you can ignore Azriel and what the mention of his name and title does to you. 

You furrow your brows when he is done. "A High Lady?"

There had not once been a High Lady when you— Your thoughts are cut off rapidly…that was centuries ago. Obviously things would change — have changed.

You give your head a little shake, chest heaving with a deep inhale. You've missed so much, it hurts. It is a sharp pain, almost like a dagger cutting into your chest, shredding it apart. You have missed centuries in this world. Only because of him. Because of the male who promised you the world. The male who you gave everything to you. Your soul. Your heart. Your body. You loved him and he broke you. Azriel… Your head whips into his direction, grinding your teeth so hard your jaw starts to ache. He is already looking at you, nothing but pain his eyes, his shadows nervously swirling around him. You don't even want to kill him anymore. In all honesty, you never really wanted to. But you want him to hurt. As much as you hurt. 

Inhaling deeply, you clear your mind, ignore your vendetta for a moment, and blow out a long breath.

"What do you need me for? I can’t fight Koschei. I don’t have my powers back, the amulet—"

"In our possession." He hadn’t got ridden of it. Your head whips to Azriel and then to the short, black-haired female standing next to him. She was the one speaking and now her lips are pursed, eyes narrowed into slits through which she assess you. She takes a few steps forward, gaze not once straying from you. 

"My amulet." You almost want to lunge at her, grasping the family heirloom in your hands, never letting go of it again. "I want it back…"

The amulet of Oorid had once been your most treasured possession, the only thing you could keep of your mother, and it will bring your powers back. It is right there. So close and yet so far away. Never will they give it to you just like this. Your hands lift a little and you are reminded of something else — something else that restricts you from being in full control of powers. 

"And apart from that I still have those. I want them removed." With a frown on your face you lift your hands, making the handcuffs and chains clatter. "Even with the amulet back, I can’t do much if I have to keep wearing those." You avoid Azriel’s gaze, but you give Rhysand a reproachful look. 

They want your help, then they must do something for it.

The High Lord once again shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. "If we have your trust, you will have your freedom back."

This sounds good...and fishy. You can’t trust them. And it won’t be freedom like you are used to. Freedom meant riding with them. Hunting and haunting with them. Travelling from one court to another in the dead of night. Freedom—

"Forever?"

His eyes crinkle, and you feel a talon scratch against your mental shields. Did he truly think you would let him roam around in your mind? You had no idea he was a deamati but your wits made you react within mere seconds when you felt his power. Obviously you won't let him in.

"What do you mean…forever?" Cassian is the one asking and you bristle at him. 

"That I am allowed to be free after he is defeated. That you won’t put me in the Prison or in shackles ever again. That I am allowed to lead a life on my own."

"If you can defeat him." 

A female who resembles the High Lady jabs him in the ribs so quickly the general has no time to react, and you almost want to laugh. Serves him right. 

"Yes." The short-haired female says.

"I once was a Prison inmate as well. If you earn our trust, you shall roam freely."

"And how do I earn your trust?" you spit and each word is punctuated. You rise to your feet, suddenly towering a little over the black-haired female. Your gazes lock, power clashing with power. You flash your teeth, fangs showing. 

She has the audacity to smile. "I like her fire," she says to no one in particular. "When you prove yourself useful in destroying the Death Lord and don't spoil our loyalty towards you, then you shall have our trust."

You nearly grimace at the word loyalty because no one in this place, safe for the people you don't know, has ever been loyal to you. 

"But I can't defeat him if I don't have my powers back."

"A bargain it is then."

The black-haired female reaches out her hand and you raise a brow. You have made many bargains in the past, mostly over not that important things. Never over your freedom. 

"You regain your powers, and have your amulet back and you shall have freedom and for that you will help us with Koschei, starting with one special task now and then aiding us in ultimately defeating him."

The thin, loose nightgown suddenly feels so tight, too tight, making it hard to breathe. This decision is grand and should not be made on a whim, but you haven't got time. 

You hold her gaze…She used to be a Prison inmate too. Why would she lie about it? You think you can trust her…or at least partly. There is no one you can fully trust in this world. 

But this bargain will remove the shackles and give you your powers back. And your freedom. 

And so you accept. There is no other option anyway. You bow your hand and reach out both shackled hands, sliding one cold palm against hers. Lightning zips between your bodies and only mere moments after, a tattoo adorns the marred skin of your upper arm. Your gaze lingers on it for a long moment until—

"So shall be it," Rhysand bows his head and fetches you back to the moment. "Follow me into my office."

"First, I want these removed. We made a bargain!" You bare your teeth, holding his gaze while lifting your arms. 

His answer unsettles you.

"Az, remove them." The High Lord tilts his chin at his shadowsinger. You almost want to tell Rhysand that you are actually quite fine with keeping them only to avoid having Azriel touch you, but it is too late. And you won't ever be weak again. You hate him, and he should have any effect on you. He has touched you before, he can also touch you now. 

With the raise of one brow, you turn to Azriel and wave your handcuffed hands into his direction. "Now?"

He says nothing as he pushes off the wall, and slowly makes his way over to you, nothing but grace in his walk. Once again you clench your jaw, worried you'll grind down your teeth to nothing. 

And it doesn't get better. Not when his scarred hands carefully reach for your arms, broad fingers accidentally brushing your skin. It tingles, little sparks flying from his fingertips to your skin. 

Your breath catches.  

Using his shadowsinger powers or whatever, he opens the shackles, catching them before they fall to the ground. "Y/N—"

You step away from him, not giving him a chance to say anything. "Let's go to the office."

"Y/N, please," he tries again and seemingly he doesn't care that his family hears it.

Do they know?

Rhys and Cass didn't know about your relationship back then. Do they know now.

Slowly, you tip your chin up and meet his gaze. It is all in the look you give him, the hurt, the pain, the anger, the hate. You let him see it all and it is answer enough. You don't need to say anything.

He steps away and bows his head.

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

You almost shriek when your sharpened nails brush the onyx box, it’s power strong, electric, radiant, stretching out like a dark force that makes your lungs coil. It feels like death itself. 

Your breath catches in your throat, the power the little box holds so similar to your own. Death. 

You analyse the box, assessing it. How can such a little box, hold so much power? You don't even allow yourself to imagine what could be in it. 

"I think I need some books," you breathe after a moment. "And time. As much as I can have."

"We thought so," Feyre says and in the corner of your eye you see how she curls her hand around Rhysand's elbow, their little babe now peacefully asleep in another room. "Hence why we thought it will be a good idea for you to start looking for all the necessary books in our big library. You can work with all of them, whatever you need shall be yours."

You dip your chin at her, once again focusing on the box. It could be opened with old runes…maybe. Or some spells. Witches spells? You are not really acquainted with them, but maybe you need to have a look into those as well. 

"And speaking of the Library…" You turn to Feyre and Rhysand, an expectant look on your face, waiting for the High Lord to continue. 

"After a conversation with the priestesses living in the Library, you are allowed to have a room there. The Library is beneath the House and can only be accessed through the House of Wind.“

How kind, you think. You are allowed to. You almost bristle at the way the High Lord phrased it, but you veil your face in indifference and merely shrug. 

Freedom…right. Being locked into a Library. Underneath this house. That is what freedom looks like. Not. 

"Am I allowed to roam freely there."

The High Lord bows his head. "You are to stay away from the priestesses living there, but you are allowed to roam freely. The females who live in this place have experienced terrible things, we won't allow anything to happen to them again. As long as you don't cause any trouble, you have all the freedom you want to have in there, but if you do something, consequences will follow." 

You almost want to laugh. Consequences…They need your help. And why the hell should you cause any of the priestesses living there trouble? You are deadly, but you are not heartless. Not cruel in that sense of the word. 

You want to say something, to retort something, but the High Lord beats you to it. 

"I think it is a good idea for us to call it a day. You shall rest, you have been through a lot, and getting you out of the Prison and to Velaris most definitely wasn't easy for you."

Velaris…Velara. The High Lord's daughter. Rhysand's sister. Where is she? Why isn't she present. You haven't known her that well, but…you will ask about her another time. Another day. 

"I assume you want to bath and then sleep?"

You do, you really do. Today has been too much and you only want to fall into a bed, now that there is the possibility of actually having a bed again. And warm water to wash. 

Instead of answering, you only hold Rhysand's gaze and then slowly dip your chin. 

"Alright. Then end it here for today. Nesta will escort you to the Library."

You are so very tired. So exhausted. It is all draining. All too much after the century-long imprisonment. And you want to get away from them. From him. You no longer want to be in a room with Azriel. You can't stand to be near him. You can't stand his closeness.

So you find yourself following after Nesta into the Library without saying another word to anyone. And most definitely without deigning Azriel another look. 

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

tag list wotf: @goldenmagnolias @chessebookgirl @blackgirlmagicforever @mollygetssherlockcoffee @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @janebirkln @cleverzonkwombatsludge @namelesss @sidthedollface2 @brujitafantomatico @ruler-of-hades @favsrachz @katherinejess @jesus-is-me @ashbatz @onyx-obsession @mischiefmanagers @thesnugglingduck @wandas-dream @emryb @esposadomd @marvelouslovely-barnes @landofpetrichor @sheblogs @zoe2 @leeknows-wife @secretlyhers @itsswritten @lupinswolfsbanes @auggiesolovey @going-through-shit @esposadomd @ithan-holstroms-girl @v3lv3tf0x @hibye02 @karinaligh @darling006 @just-a-social-casualty @shedreamswithstars @dr4g0ngirl @quinzzelx @shadowsingers-redhood @sirenpearldust @rhysandorian @starcrossedsan @spideytingley @historygeekqueen @starryhiraeth @fasoaurore

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf

[myosotisa]

i'm starvin, darlin - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

ǁ summary: Since coming back from the Upside Down, Eddie has slowly been changing. Each week seems to bring something different and he finds himself doing things he never thought he would.

ǁ tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no y/n. nickname used (sweetheart). mentions of season 4 final episode and what occurred. canon divergent (every one lived). it's not smut, but smut adjacent. it's sexy

ǁ word count: 2k

ǁ notes: i sat down and wrote an entire one shot in one sitting again. and i am also not going to edit this one. and i do not feel bad for lowercase hozier title, so don't even try me like that. if y'all really like it, i can add a part 2 with smut, but this is it for now

-

There are still a lot of things Eddie is having to come to terms with since the night his heart stopped.

That night in the Upside Down, laying in Dustin’s arms, he had died. Without a doubt. Dustin had felt his pulse and there was nothing there. And though he didn’t know CPR, had no idea what he was doing, Dustin had laid him down on the ground and started to beat against his chest. Like maybe if he hit hard enough and in the right place, his friend would come back to life.

Somehow it worked. No one bothered to ask why.

But they all knew something was wrong two days later. Eddie, barely breathing and with a weak heartbeat, had been dragged back to the surface and hidden away in the RV they had stolen. Someone watched him round the clock as they debated what to do. If they should try to get him to a hospital, how they’d be able to explain it. But then something miraculous began to happen:

Eddie started healing. All on his own. Way faster than any person should have been able to.

His skin stitched itself back together faster than should be possible, leaving less scar tissue than it should have behind. His chest began to rise and fall in more steady breaths, his heart beat getting stronger, bones resetting themselves with slow and quiet creaks as he laid in that RV bed and slept. He’d been asleep since they brought him back.

The day he woke up, his body had almost entirely healed itself. From the brink of death, having even stepped over to the other side, and now he was almost back to before it ever happened. It had only been a week.

Everyone rejoiced, refusing to question anything weird that may have happened in the Upside Down and just thinking they finally won for once. Max had casts on both her arms but was otherwise unharmed, Steve had recovered from his own injuries at the rate of a normal human and now sported a scar around his throat that he sometimes felt self conscious about. Dustin was on crutches with his broken leg for another month at least. Eddie was alive and whole and back to himself. They’d made it, everyone had made it.

He began to notice more and more things that were different as the days went on.

The first thing he caught on to was that he had the capability to be strong. Way stronger than someone who had recently been bed ridden should be. It was like in the comic books with the Hulk – if he wasn’t paying attention or if he got too emotional, he could easily break anything. A walkman destroyed, a ceramic bowl reduced to shards, a metal pipe bent beyond fixing, the wooden handle of a hammer shattered in his grip. The boys were all present for the hammer incident and sighted it as one of the coolest things they had ever seen. They swarmed him, asking him how he did it, what else he could do, how strong he really was.

Only the other teens, Steve, Nancy, Robin, you, started to look a little bit closer.

When the next few changes became apparent, it was clear something unnatural had happened to Eddie that night in the Upside Down. He could feel other people's feelings. They brushed against his consciousness like ghosts whenever he looked at someone. Happiness like warm rays of sunshine, fear like a shuddering gust of wind, anger like hot coals pressed to his skin. It wasn’t a conscious effort – in fact, there were a lot of times he wished he could turn it off. Whenever he looked too hard at someone, it’s like his brain adjusted to a different frequency and their emotions reached out to him, no matter what they were. And he didn’t struggle to make sense of the sensations like he thought he might, his brain completed the dots easily at first, but then he began to recognize them consciously. It was certainly useful sometimes, especially when it came to you, but it still felt a bit invasive. When he’d explained it to a few people, he assured he tried to ignore it whenever he could, but sometimes he couldn’t help but react. The icey spike of terror he felt when you woke up next to him from a nightmare. The velvet comfort that enveloped you and him when he held you after.

The first time he spoke into someone’s mind it was an accident. Steve had whipped toward him, breath catching in his chest, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasp. Eddie felt it like ice down his spine. “Did you… You did that?” He’d asked breathlessly. It had been so shocking, Eddie wasn’t even sure what’d he said, or projected, or whatever it was.

“I - I don’t know.”

Steve stepped closer, suddenly looking determined. “Try to do it again.”

It was a slithering feeling when he dipped back into Steve’s mind. Like sliding his way in between cracks to a place he didn’t belong, seeping into the forefront of his thoughts to plant one of his own. It made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and wrong. But it worked. Steve explained it as having a thought like his own but it came out in Eddie’s voice instead. An intrusive thought but not an uncomfortable one.

As with all of the other discoveries, a meeting was called. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, El, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and you. Steve did most of the talking while Eddie sat and looked at his hands. These meetings, while he acknowledged were important for everyone to keep track of his progression into… something, it still made him feel a bit like a zoo animal in a cage. A magician with a magic trick. All the boys immediately begged him to do it to them, they wanted to see what it felt like, wanted to see how easy it was for him to do it. 

Nancy and Jonathan had shooed them, catching on to how overwhelmed Eddie was, their excitement and curiosity battering against him like a whipping wind of too much. Once it was just the older people in the room, you crossed over to where he was, kneeled down in front of him, reached out to hold his hand.

Pity felt like someone was pissing in his pants.

“Are you okay?”

How could he say no? How could he admit that he was scared, confused, and feeling more and more like a monster with the passing days? “It’s just a lot. To deal with.”

Your smile was pained as you pushed yourself up onto your calves and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His came around your waist on instinct, the breath feeling like a wheeze in his lungs as he held tight. Face pressed into your hair with his eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled deep in relief.

That was when the next thing changed.

It was a desire. A need. One he couldn’t place a name to. Like he was desperately missing something, desperately craving something and he didn’t know it was. It crawled under his skin like ants and sent him scratching for a feeling that couldn’t be satiated. No matter what he tried: eating, drinking, masturbating, exercising. The feeling wouldn’t go away. It got stronger day after day, his mind focusing more and more on the void it left behind until it was all he could think about.

Steve threw a little get together at his house once a month or so. Just time for everyone to get together, eat some food, listen to music, play board games, maybe watch a movie. This was the first get together since his hunger began.

He was sitting on the couch on his own, decompressing. While normally he was right in the middle of everything, today it was a lot to handle when he was hyperfocused on the crawling beneath his skin. He had his legs spread wide, hands resting on them, leaning deep into the cushions of the couch in Steve’s basement. While he had initially tried to close his eyes, hang his head back, maybe stare at the ceiling – he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting back to you.

You and Eddie had been friends for a long time. Understandably, you’d gotten much closer after the events in March. The two of you had helped each other through hard nights of nightmares, panic attacks in parking lots, flashbacks in public. You’d been a great comfort to him since he came back. But today your laugh sounded like music. The smell of your perfume hit him even across the room. Each emotion crashed over him in waves, pushing and receding like the tide as he tried to get off your frequency, unentangle himself from you before he did something he didn’t mean to do.

I’m starving.

Your back stiffened, the grip on your plastic cup getting just a bit tighter. A moment of fear quickly shifted to mellowed surprise, curiosity. He’d never spoken into your mind before, hadn’t meant to do so now. But you still shifted, your eyes slowly coasting across the room until you caught sight of him on the couch.

A shock of electricity shot down his spine as you made eye contact, his hands tightening over his thighs in reaction. Unsure exactly what to do, he settled for projecting again. Slithered his way into your ears and settled a respectful distance from the area he’d never been brave enough to venture. Sorry, he offered with a wince, didn’t mean to.

What he didn’t expect was the utter flood of feeling that hit him next. Like a drip of warm honey settling into the space between his hips, pooling there in a subtle swirl as the warmth from it started to diffuse outward. You realized you’d been staring and your eyes flit away, but the feeling didn’t cease. In fact, it only got stronger. Your lower lip caught on your teeth as you shifted between your feet. Things that would be completely normal to see, wouldn’t have anyone looking twice, but Eddie could. Your desire. The want that poured from you like water when your eyes first met his.

Was this the first time? Had something changed between you and him? Or had he just never caught on before?

The ants beneath his skin began to vibrate as he narrowed in on the feeling, on you. Like the part of him that had slithered into your thoughts was now bearing down, digging in for purchase, wanting to stay awhile and feed on this new feeling, what you were offering. It didn’t even occur to him what he was doing, how invasive it might be, how wrong he normally would have felt. All he knew is that it felt like licking at the thing he’d been craving for so long and he was helpless to chase after it.

Sweetheart. It came easy as breathing now, teeth sunk into your consciousness from where you stood across the room. You whirled on him again, another flood of warmth hitting him deep as you leaned your hip against the counter you were standing next to and focused on him. What’s got you so worked up?

He couldn’t even consider how bold he was suddenly being, the fear that he might ruin this friendship well out of his grasp. Especially when your embarrassment spiked along with the want, the pool of warmth now suddenly coming to life to have a heartbeat of its own. Your eyes widened, shifting on your feet again as you broke eye contact. It only took a few moments before you couldn’t help but look back at him again. The buzzing settled further, now like a purr beneath his skin. It was bearable as long as you kept your eyes on him.

You wanna do something about it?

-

-

-

-

-

thanks for reading, please reblog and leave a comment if you liked it!

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myos ideas #vampire!Eddie munson #kas!eddie munson #myo4munson

[llamagoddessofficial]

I'm on my knees for any more crumbs with prison AU therapist Mc and Sans 🙏 the more equal(?) dynamic is just so good And to the anon that brought it up—I love you

I'll do you one better. Here's some crumbs for ALL of them

Since she's not a nurse, this Mc doesn't have a very strong stomach. Stories of Skull's crimes sometimes make her physically ill.

Generally, Sans and Mc's 'sessions' can be quite pleasant. They talk about current events, how things are going. It's only once she starts trying to explore his feelings that he starts toying with her.

... Red teases her a lot. She tries not to react to it, it's unprofessional, but he can always tell when he's flustering her. He gets this infuriating smug grin.

Since Red is a high risk prisoner, he has to have one hand cuffed to a table during therapy. He often complains that he wishes he could be cuffed alone in a room with her in different circumstances. What Mc doesn't realise is that, considering his strength, the cuffs are basically for decoration- Red just pretends he can't break out of them so she feels more comfortable alone in a room with a massive skeleton monster who openly displays interest in her.

Sans doesn't require cuffs in his sessions. And the only time he was cuffed, he snapped them 'accidentally' to make a point. It just makes it all the more nervewracking for Mc.

Skull doesn't know she's his therapist. He thinks she just really cares about him. That's why she keeps coming back to see him, right?

Red isn't the only flirt. Sans is a lot more forward in this AU, considering she knows the truth about his nature. Granted, Sans being 'clear' about something is still incredibly cryptic, but he enjoys the shock in her eyes whenever he calmly flirts with her.

Red's flirting is warm, sincere, and never crosses the line... it leaves her flushed and (though she'd never admit it) flattered. Sans' flirting is nervewracking. It makes her feel like she's a mouse, and Sans is a cat playfully batting at her, capable of clawing her to death at any moment.

Skull gains bits and pieces of speech back a lot faster with her. Unfortunately, that means he's learning how to terrify the guards. It used to be that Skull would just scream or snarl, but now he likes to say broken ominous sentences to guards he doesn't like to see them shit their pants.

He's also figured out that, when he's really upset and angry, if he screams her name enough someone will send her. It's not a great lesson to learn... but it's better than him deciding to attack people.

Whenever Mc tries to get Skull to do therapeutic art with her, he just draws the same thing over and over. The art is scribbly thanks to his tremor, but it always looks like three people; a tall skeleton, a shorter skeleton, and a human. He draws them in various positions- standing together, sitting around a table, sitting on a couch. She suspects one skeleton is him and the human could be her, but she doesn't know who the tall skeleton is.

(It's him, her, and Papyrus. His family)

Sans, for all his power and control, gets ratty and jealous when she treats other people. The first time he hears her laugh is when she realises that was why he's being moody.

She'd never seen him so delighted before.

Sans likes when she dodges his conversational traps. He'll try to lure her into talking about herself, revealing information to him, but she won't fall for it and always turns it back on him. There's not much he's been able to glean from her. It's always so fun, to play with someone who knows what they're doing.

Again, she'll never admit it. But Mc is fascinated by Sans. Most serial killers are delusional and kinda pathetic, but Sans is as if all the stereotypes of the 'genius mastermind serial killer' were true. She gets to be up close and personal, see how he works; she gets to watch his mask rise and fall in real time.

Of course, he knows she's fascinated. He uses it to keep her coming back. He's fascinated with her, too~

#llamagines #prison au #prison therapist au #guard: ... #skull: ..... #guard: ...... #skull: ... you'll... bleed..... #guard: That's IT. I FUCKING QUIT

[ohtobeleah]

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: [Mermaids Don’t Exist]

Summary: Jake continues to plays your knight in shining armour when tensions rise between you and an overly intoxicated patron. Bob brings up a mutual memory.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Witness Protection F!reader. Sexually degrading comments made towards reader. Sexual tension, trauma. Mentions of death & violence.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author Note: Still not writing as much as I once was but I’m getting back into the swing of things. Any comments, thoughts or concepts are welcome!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dreams mainly occur when the body falls into a stage of sleep referred to as R.E.M. Rapid eye movement occurs when the brain and body are finally able to completely rest. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that when your body is able to rest, it allows you to do so. 

“We’ll find you, Y/n!” 

Nightmares are typically thought to be an evolutionary conserved trait. Some researchers believe that nightmares provide a rehearsal for life-or-death situations. Before you lived one? You would have said something along the lines of ‘that checks out.’

“No no no no please, Patrick, stay with me—“ 

Some researchers believe nightmares to be a practical experience for many people as it allows the brain to run through multiple different algorithms to find the most desirable strategies, and solutions to often critical and complex situations. 

From a procedural standpoint, simply imagining doing an action can improve your performance.  

“I love you—take Charlie.”

This applies when we simply imagine doing an action such as playing the piano or running for your life after being run off the road, it activates something called a mirror neuron. 

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with here, girly.” 

In theory, the more nightmares you have, the more of those algorithms your brain is able to run, and the more prepared you’re likely to be for the daily struggle of survival. 

But evolution herself is seen by the scientific community more so as a tinkerer than as an inventor. 

“Oh god—please, not my baby, please! Someone! Help us!” 

So, that’s probably why you have the same nightmare over and over and over again every single night. 

Every morning you wake in the same way, with your face pressed into your pillow and your chest sinking into your mattress. Secretly, every morning you wished that your pillow would have suffocated you in your sleep so that today would forever be unobtainable. But you couldn’t do that, no. Not when the only way to bring a sense of worth to your life was to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

With a groan and a look that spoke volumes to your lack of self-esteem, you rolled onto your back and let out a heavy sigh. Your hands were quick to shield your eyes from the mid-afternoon rays beaming into your bedroom via the slightly cracked windows. 

“Your name is Y/n Y/l/n, you are doing the right thing.”

Guilt and grief aren’t linear emotions. They don’t have a perception of how much time has passed. Realistically it had been three years, six months, and two days since your entire world had been flipped upside down. But every morning, after seeing your husband bleeding to death as he sat pressed against the steering wheel, and having held your five-year-old son in your arms while he took his last breath, the wound was reopened.

And the clock always resets.

“Ah, there she is.” You couldn’t help but hang your head in shame almost. Penny’s glare from behind the bar was as piercing and sharp as it was endearing and playful. Like a woman who took no shit from no one. “You know, you’d think management would be here on time more frequently than whatever the hell this is.” All you could do was take the semi-serious scattering from the owner of the bar you’d been lucky enough to be set up with a pretty good gig at. “Get over here and give me a hand will ya?” 

“Sorry, Penny—” There wasn’t much more you could say to justify yourself. You woke up late, got ready slowly, and got lost in the steam of your mid-afternoon shower as you fought off the existential dread that was your current situation. “Flat tyre,” You shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal that you were currently twenty-three minutes late for your shift, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Yeah well, you can start by clearing off the table by the piano,” Penny smiled as she nudged her head in the direction of the unruly table of patrons that had surely had far too much to drink. “Think Rick’s had a little more than his liver would care to admit.” 

“Yeah righto,” you sighed as you came behind the bar, doing up your apron as you looked around at the utter mess that had become the place. “I’ll sort him out.” 

North Island wasn’t somewhere you ever saw yourself living, but that was the real kicker in all of this. You didn’t mind the picturesque town with clear blue skies and water that mirrored it. But being the outsider, being the new resident, being the Hard Deck’s newest manager was all some of these people saw you as. Six months in a small Naval town was barely a dint in the years some of these families had been living here. 

“Aw hello, Brewer!” Rick Spencer, the resident rioter, cooed as he beamed your way. For someone in their mid-sixties, he surely went alright. “What brings you in on this fine Saturday afternoon?”

Typical - If you could have, you would have rolled your eyes so far into the back of your head you would have fallen over. Instead, you chose to smile and settle into the nightlife festivities with a can-do attitude and a rather cheeky smile. 

“Came to check on you, Spence? How’s everything over here boys?” It wasn’t uncommon for you to entertain the banter most of the patrons would give you. Most of the locals had caught on quickly that you enjoyed a good laugh every now and again but also knew how to handle your own. 

But there's always one in every group, isn’t there? 

“Would be a hell of a lot better if the barmaid was a little more topless! Right boys!?” A man you hadn’t seen before interrupted before a roar of ‘yeahs’ and agreements were made. Fists and beer bottles along with spirits alike slammed against the tabletop. “Come on girly—” The man continued as you stood there holding the empty bar tray, ready and waiting to collect the empties that littered the table. “Get your kit off.” 

“I don’t think so, boys,” You politely declined the offer of public indecency. “Perhaps in another lifetime.” 

“Sorry about him, Brewer,” Rick explained as he shook his head and stood from his seat at the booth. “My nephew’s here for a few days.”  

“Yeah well, so long as he remembers I run the joint and can have him tossed any time,” You replied sternly. “Keep him in line, Rick.” 

“Oh come on now, sweetheart, I was only joking!” The man you only knew as the nephew chuckled as he overheard your comment. “It’s slim pickings around here anyway, you just look like the best of a bad bunch is all.” 

“Hey!” That voice, that far too familiar voice echoed through the crowd. “You speak to her, or any woman for that matter, like that again? So help me god I’ll punch your teeth right through the back of your skull.” Jake snarled as he came to stand in front of you with his back nearly pressed right into your chest. “Got it!?” The close proximity, the overwhelming aroma of the familiar cologne, and the notes of burnt orange and bourbon made your heart warm. It all had your heart beating against your chest with a force so intense you thought it might break through. 

“Yeah right,” the man only known as the nephew agreed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll get on the waters for a while.” 

“That and a pretty big tip should call us even,” you added with envy conviction laced in your voice that you even had yourself fooled that everything was alright. “Let me just grab these empties for you fellas.” 

You didn’t mess around with it, you simply let the group fall back into their regular chatter as you filled your tray. 

Jake stood with crossed arms a little off to the side, eyeing off all the men who sat idly. Fucking pricks. 

“Been here all of five fucking minutes—” Jake could sense your frustration as you turned into him. At first, he didn’t move, he simply stood there drinking you in as you held the now full tray of dirty glassware. 

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” was all you said. 

With wandering eyes, Jake didn’t miss a single inch of you. 

“I know,” Jake smiled softly as he reached around to lead you back to the bar for a moment to decompress. His hand gently fell to the small of your back as you walked side by side, “I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but just because you’re capable? Doesn’t mean you have to go it alone.” 

Alone, that’s all you’d ever been for the last three years. 

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right,” the sigh that left your body allowed your shoulders to relax as you placed the tray onto the bar and slid it over for Penny to take. “Thanks, Jake, I owe you one.” 

Jake Seresin had never been the kind of guy who saw himself settling down. But when he first saw you, that thought hadn’t left his mind. 

“Name a time and place,” Jake teased as he sent you a wink. It didn’t take Jake long to find himself at home up by the bar, perched on one of the bar stools as he entertained his favourite bartender. “I’ve always wondered what our first date would be like.” 

“Do I look like I came down in the last shower, Seresin?” You knew Jake had a thing for you, it wasn’t all that hard to put together. But it could never work, not in a million years. Not when you were playing pretend on a professional basis.

“What’s that even mean?” Jake asked as he leaned his elbows on top of the bar, grinning ear to ear as he pressed your buttons more. 

“It means—“ You cooed as you leaned into his space, making it known that the flirting was welcome, but the end goal wasn’t in sight. “I know you’re just trying to get in my pants.” 

“Pretty good-looking set of pants if I do say so myself,” Jake teased as his eyes trailed down the expanse of your body, then back up. Those emerald cities of his were full of complex wonder and undoubtable loyalty. Something you could never give back. “But despite the fact I think you’re pants would look a hell of a lot better in a pile on my bedroom floor, I’m not just doing any of this for a chance to, well, you know what I mean.” 

You did know what Jake meant, and for all intents and purposes you could admit to yourself that it sounded very tempting. But you knew what the repercussions would be.

“Jake, that’s all very sweet of you,” you felt as if you had this very conversation every week. The gentle let down. The kind-ish conversation where you reminded the overly-confident and somewhat self-assured Aviator that you weren’t looking for love or lust, or anything. Besides, there were already too many people looking for you. “But you know, as much as I think you’re a good guy and friend, I’m not interested.” 

Jake stood silently before you, drinking in all that was you. From the lines etched into your forehead to the small scar that ran through your left eyebrow. He wasn’t listening, there was just something about you. Something so intriguing that he couldn’t stop trying to win you over. He couldn’t stop trying to get you to give him just one chance. One chance was all Jake wanted to convince you he wasn’t everything he knew people had told you he was. 

“What would you say if I asked you to–” Before Jake had a chance to finish his question, the echoing sound of a glass shattering into smitherings against the wooden flooring, interrupted his train of thought. 

“OOOIII– TAXI!” It was almost as if all the patrons, besides Jake that was, had all congealed into one as they yelled shouted and cheered towards the man who had dropped his glass. With a heavy sigh and a quick roll of the eyes, you knew you would be the one who ultimately had to clear the mess. 

“I should probably get back to work.” The silence that came from Jake was deafening as you pulled away from where you had been standing far too close to a man you thought you didn’t want. A man you couldn’t have even if deep down you really wanted. Life was unfair like that. You couldn’t have anything you wanted, anything you loved. Anything that made you happy in the smallest of ways. 

“There’s really no chance of getting you to agree to just one date, is there Brewer?” Jake watched as you made your over to where you kept the cleaning supplies in a small section behind the bar. 

“If you already know that then why do you constantly make such an effort?” It was the look on your face that told Jake everything he needed to know. There was no chance in hell he was ever getting that date. 

But Jake Seresin never gave up without a fight, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to now. 

“Because you gentled me, Brewer,” Jake Seresin had never been the type of person who wanted to settle down. He was always so content with the relations he chose to have and the way he chose to have them. Short simple quick flings. Girlfriends who lasted no longer than a year and one-night stands he’d promise to call but never got their numbers. But then there was you. “No one’s ever done that before.” 

“Please don’t put that on my shoulders, Jake,” You weren't sure how to respond to that, how to process that kind of admission. “Just lay off the heroics for a while alright? I don’t want people getting the wrong impression.” 

“That impression would be?” Jake questioned like you’d just insulted his very being. That it would be a crime to love him. 

“Jake, I have a job to do alright,” It wasn’t that you were angry or upset that Jake cared for and about you. It was more frustration on your part for not being able to act on your own feelings towards him. It had been three years since your husband died. Three years since you felt the loving embrace of another human being. That alone was enough to frustrate anyone. “Please, just–just, I need to get back to work.” 

The thing about nightmares is that they often don’t stick to their own parameters. Sometimes, you end up living a nightmare more often than you dream one. Right now? As Jake looked at you like you’d just shot him through the heart, you knew you were wide awake. Living a nightmare that continued to punish only the good. 

“You’re untouchable,” Jake sighed to himself softly as he shook his head in defeat. “The untouchable woman who won’t let anyone in, you’re too proud or something aren’t you?” 

“It’s just–” All you wanted to do was explain yourself, pull Jake aside and let him in on why you couldn’t allow him to love you the way you wanted him to. But no words came out as you stood there holding the old dustpan by your side. 

With every blink, you saw flashes of Patrick. The love you lost too soon, too suddenly. He made sure to haunt your dreams to keep you safe. For a brief second of all-consuming anguish, you saw him too. Standing right behind Jake, warning you not to. “I need to get back to work, I’m sorry.” 

“Right,” Jake clenched his jaw when he felt the word vomit about to spew from his lips. He wasn’t mad, rejection just wasn’t something he was familiar with. “When you get a chance, put a Budweiser on Bradshaw’s tab.” Jake pressed his lips together into a fine line of regret, instantly kicking himself for pushing. He knew he shouldn’t have, but the chase was as addicting as it was thrilling. With a simple knock of his knuckles on the bar before, he turned on his heels. Leaving you to stand there in your own self-loathing. 

Your heart sank as you watched Jake shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a head that hung so low you almost wondered if his neck would be sore. Guilt, shame, it all felt the same. But you couldn’t let Jake in, you couldn’t allow him into your life more than what you’d given him over the last six months. 

You’d tangled yourself in barbed wire so you couldn’t be reached by anyone. Unknowingly bleeding when as it digs into you more and more. You would think the touch of skin on yours wouldn’t be so terrifying, but you’d been bruised before. You couldn’t allow Jake to fall into your web of lies that kept you safe from harm’s way. If hurting him was the only way to keep him safe, you’d hurt him twice over every single day.

Perhaps it would be safer to stay the untouchable woman. 

***~***~***~***~***~****

As a child, there was magic in the mundane. You often found yourself missing the mermaids among the koi in the pond, their glittering scales reminiscent of a childhood fairytale. Summer mornings you’d make bouquets out of the same flowers adults would now mow away while wrinkling their noses at the weeds. 

You often wondered to yourself when the awe of the day-to-day faded away and when you stopped believing in your ability to see mermaids in the momentous world around you. 

“Another round fellas?” You tried not to think too much about the way Jake’s eyes burned into you like a fiery sunbeam as you stood behind Rooster. “Same old same old? The usual orders of Bradshaw’s table?” The squad, affectionately known as the Daggers erupted into laughter all the while Rooster remained silent and brooding. 

“You are all bleeding my dry,” Bradley sighed as you made the rounds and collected all the empties onto your bar tray. “Seriously, I know you aren’t all working for free, cough up.” 

“You could– just apologise for being a Neanderthal and I’ll close it out?” Your statement left a bad taste in Rooster’s mouth, he wasn’t one for apologising for things he didn’t think he’d done wrong. 

“I could,” the brooding moustache-having man replied. “But it’d be an empty lie.” There was something about Bradley Bradshaw that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. He wasn’t necessarily a bad person, he was–an only child. He probably never imagined mermaids among the koi.  

“Appreciate the honesty there, Bradshaw,” you chuckled deeply as you finished you collecting all the empty glasses and beer bottles. “Guess the next rounds on you.” 

“Here here,” Coyote chimed in with a Cheshire Cat grin. “All in a hard day’s work there Rooster, you always know how to piss off the barkeep.” 

“Works out in our favour,” Bob smiled as he passed you two empty glasses. “I don’t think I’ve paid for a drink of my own in a few weeks now.” 

“No, you just keep trying to convince everyone Brewer here was your first kiss,” Phoenix smirked as she finished off her beer. 

All the air inside your lungs felt like they had been sucked right out. The chills that ran down the expanse of your spine made your blood run cold. You stood tall with your now full tray of old beer bottles and empty glasses and sent a polite smile Bob’s way. 

“You still riding that wave?” 

“You just really look like Y/n from Nurellun Public,” Bob countered with an almost pleading tone. “She was my first kiss by the sandpit and I remember she had a little yellow dot in her right eye.” 

“Brewer has a yellow dot in her right eye,” Jake decided to enter the conversation from his place in the corner of the booth. “Tell you what Floyd, you must have been one shocking kisser if you got Brewer here to change her damn name.” The table erupted into a loud boisterous laugh as the Weapons System Officer sunk a little lower into his seat. 

You felt for Bob, being the butt of the joke was never a good feeling. But when your case officer relocated you to North Island, he didn’t bank on one of its locals being your first snog. You hated gaslighting the guy, but you had no other choice. Bob Floyd had to stay in the era of Meridamis and weed bouquets. 

“Like I told you last time Bob, you’ve got the wrong girl,” It was as nonchalant as it was dismissive. “My first kiss was with Johnny Bennett out at some random guys shed.” You had gotten used to lying about your life and who you were. At the very beginning it was almost impossible, but three years on? You’d gotten pretty good at playing pretend. 

Only you wished it could be with the mermaids in their fairytales. But much like all those mermaids and all those fairytale stories……you didn’t exist. Much like Johnny Bennett.  

***~***~***~***~***~ 

Tags: 🏷️ @a-reader-and-a-writer @xoxabs88xox @hiireadstuff @buckysteveloki-me @athenabarnes @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @na-ta-sh-aa @kmc1989 @sunlightmurdock @mamachasesmayhem @jaxfart @lauenderhaze @sugarcoated-lame @maisie-rebloging-blog @captainmoonknight @seitmai @shanimallina87 @kajjaka @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @imladrisofabookdragon @buckysteveloki-me @mrsevans90 @allepaula @els-marvelvsp @djs8891 @paperbag33

#secret sacrifices // jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #top gun hangman #top gun fandom #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction

[beebotea]

☁️ ˖⁺ thinking of collegeboy!kayn

pairing: heartsteel!kayn x gn!reader genre: fluff, crack cw: probably ooc ngl, hearsteel is a rising boy band, kayn is annoying asf, slight jealousy, idk classmates to crush ig, reader is an ezreal stan i.e.: collegeboy!kayn headcannons

collegeboy!kayn who’s part of the rising boyband heartsteel

collegeboy!kayn who stands as one of their lead rappers and opens for their first single

collegeboy!kayn who has amassed a significant following outside of school for his looks and stage persona

collegeboy!kayn who has this arrogant, bad-boy-esque aura to him when he walks around the halls

collegeboy!kayn who you had the unfortunate luck to sit beside on your first day of class because he was in your program

collegeboy!kayn who often misses classes during band promotions

collegeboy!kayn who starts to fail his classes because of his horrible attendance and lack of study skills

collegeboy!kayn who you’ve been tasked by one of the department heads to tutor

collegeboy!kayn who was told to play nice during tutoring sessions or he’d be kicked from band activities if he failed a single class at the end of the semester

collegeboy!kayn who gets kicked out of all the public spaces you guys try to study at because he always makes too big of a scene at any minor inconvenience

collegeboy!kayn who brings you back to the dorms because you’re too embarrassed to step foot in public within a 10-meter radius of him, but he still needs you to help him pass his classes

collegeboy!kayn who gets annoyed when you start to fawn over ezreal when he greets you from the living room

collegeboy!kayn who drags you away by the wrist to cut your conversation off short, grumbling about not knowing what you see in the guy and how you’re sooo shallow for liking the pretty boy under his breath

collegeboy!kayn who yells at his mom yone for barging in during your study sesh and bringing in a plate of perfectly cut fruits

collegeboy!kayn who threatened to “beat the living shit” out of ez if he didnt stop flirting with you while he was trying to figure out maslow’s hierarchy

collegeboy!kayn who decides to lock the door after having k'sante peek his head in to “check on how you're both doing”

collegeboy!kayn who started to look forward to walking with you back to his dorm after class and spending time with you once a week

collegeboy!kayn who begins to do better in class with your consistent help every weekend

collegeboy!kayn who impulsively called you, excited that he got a b+ on one of his final exams

collegeboy!kayn who turns red in embarrassment when you tease him over the phone about never calling you prior (he always insisted he was a text-only type of guy)

collegeboy!kayn who couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when you laughed, saying that he wouldn’t need you to tutor him anymore

collegeboy!kayn who, without thinking, said, “no! im still stupid, you have to keep tutoring me!”

collegeboy!kayn who mentally facepalms when you laugh at him again for being such a loser about it but quickly gets over it when you agree to keep helping him

collegeboy!kayn who finds himself thanking someone for the first time with a slight smile on his face before you disconnect the call

collegeboy!kayn who throws the nearest pointed object at sett and tells him to "fuck off" when he gets teased for looking so lovesick over a phone call of all things

collegeboy!kayn who slams the door of his bedroom shut and comically lets himself fall face-first into his pillow because he’s realized he has absolutely developed a crush on you at this point

collegeboy!kayn who thinks to himself with a smirk and decides it shouldn’t be too hard to win you over with his undeniable charm and good looks… right?

a/n: should i release a one-shot or multi-part ver of this? i got MORE!!! also are league fics a thing? idt ive ever seen them but oh well heartsteel kayn is just too UGHSAHJGSHJG

#beebotea*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ writes #league of legends #kayn #heartsteel #heartsteel kayn #league of legends kayn #kayn x reader #kayn x you #heartsteel x reader

[inhonoredglory]

A Wartime Footing: An Explanation for Aziraphale's Elevator Smile

(Based on an ask from @sabotage-on-mercury in response to my meta on why Aziraphale had to go to Heaven)

The creepy smile was one part of the ending I couldn't quite put my finger on either, until someone pointed out on a Twitter response to my meta:

The reason why its scary is bc azi is becoming properly angry at the system and is 101% determined to set things right (Source)

In season 1, Aziraphale was determined not to kill anyone to stop the Apocalypse. He wouldn't even tell Crowley where the Antichrist was, because Crowley's only solution was to kill him.

And because Crowley consistently didn't have any ideas ("not one single better idea??"), Aziraphale took it on himself to pursue the only option left––to ask God to intervene and stop both Heaven and Hell from destroying Earth. Therefore, Aziraphale had to keep the integrity of his angel status by distancing himself from Crowley, while the world was still in danger.

Despite this dedication avoid bloodshed, when God didn't have an answer, Aziraphale went against one of his core beliefs to help save the world. He was willing to murder a child.

For Aziraphale, that takes guts. And (seeing how he reacted at the end of the Job minisode), I wonder that if he had killed Adam Young, Aziraphale would have checked himself into Hell.

Going to Heaven for Aziraphale is ultimately a conscious choice, one that he is clearly afraid of. We see him constantly steeling himself again the Metatron in the end, covering his fear and hurt from losing Crowley with a placid smile and a flippant attitude. He's wearing so many masks, to Crowley, to himself, to the Metatron...

All season we've seen him playing roles (detective, magician, doctor, landlord). But the final role is warrior. Going up that elevator, we first see Aziraphale's eyes searching, worried, panicking, but unable to show it because he's not in a safe space. He swallows, blinks, he's breathing hard (you can see his entire shoulders rise and fall).

But as he goes up, his expression steels. He's quite literally putting on a mask (to himself): a vengeful, hardened expression of pure anger and rage (to drown out the fear and uncertainty he so clearly still has).

Michael Sheen conveying contained anger in both Good Omens and Masters of Sex.

Cuz this isn't just him scrambling to kill a kid, this is him walking calmly and knowingly into sacrificing everything he loves most (Crowley, the bookshop, his entire life on earth) to create a world that will always be safe for him and Crowley and humanity for the rest of time. Where he would have to go up against the most powerful angels, the Metatron, and God Themself to change things. He can't be the kind, sweet angel he was on Earth. That won't cut it in Heaven if he wants to make a difference in any real way.

He wanted to do it with Crowley, with the love and support and strength of his demon. But without him, Aziraphale has to channel something else to keep his resolve afloat.

Something he had when he was a warrior, fighting on the front lines of a battle between Heaven and Hell, when he very likely led a platoon into divine fields of bloodshed before the earth was born. When he was an avenging angel.

I haven’t done this since the Great War.

It was a time and an identity he had chosen to leave behind, because it wasn't the kind of angel he was anymore ("I'm not fighting in any war!"). In this context, you can read Aziraphale's passionate unwillingness to take a life (his pacifism) directly into his past experience as a warrior. It is often the veterans of terrible wars who are the most earnest advocates for peace. (And especially in Britain and Europe, where the violence of the world wars is still such a powerful and painful national memory.)

As he goes up the elevator, he's breathing so hard we can hear it mirrored in the soundtrack, and he is so hyperfocused on steeling himself that he doesn't even care that the Metatron is watching him. He doesn't rest until he's psyched himself into that warrior mindset necessary to carry out this mission entirely by himself, to be both the moral advocate and the uncompromising leader of angels who had intimidated him his entire life. To demand respect and to talk to the very face of God and tell Them they are Wrong.

(Please read this Neil-approved meta for further thoughts on God and Aziraphale.)

That creepy smile is clearly not there because Aziraphale is happy to fall into a toxic parent's false love. There's no comfort or wistful nostalgia in that face. There's no "it'll be so much nicer" in that smile. It's not a happy smile. It's an I'm-gonna-fuck-shit-up smile.

Because it's a warrior's smile before they go into battle, before they put on that armor and, for a while, become something they're not in the name of some greater good. He's fucking furious and it's downright frightening.

Because I have no doubt that the angel Aziraphale we get in Season 3 is the angel Aziraphale who can say this:

He's not quite there yet in the TV show. But this bravery, this anger, this flaming rage is how it starts.

Or as he's described in the book when Aziraphale mysteriously does away with the local mafia:

Just because you’re an angel doesn’t mean you have to be a fool.

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #aziraphale meta #aziraphale defense squad #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #go s2 meta #go meta #go s2 #michael sheen #book!aziraphale #*mine #*mymeta #made this a separate post cuz i dunno which version is better for reblogs #the side-by-side gifs kept crashing on me 😑 #anyway I love and adore defending our angel #but in no way am I taking sides #I'm just coming to his aid since he's getting so much flack rn

[semperama]

maxiel, hurt/comfort, just a little something I threw together to comfort myself after today.

Somehow, Max ends up following Daniel back to his motorhome. His mouth is still going a mile a minute, but Daniel isn't hearing distinct words anymore, only a low and comforting hum. He's tried to remember to nod every now and then. To smile. Otherwise Max might stop.

"Don't you have a ton of shit to do?" Daniel says when he can find a gap. He digs his phone out of his pocket with his good hand, glances at the absurd number of notifications he has, then tosses it down on the table. He can deal with that later. Or never.

"Huh?" Max says, and when Daniel looks up at him, he seems legitimately perplexed, like he's completely forgotten where--and who--he is.

"It's your home race, mate," Daniel says. "Don't you have a fuckton of press or whatever?"

"Oh." Max looks at his watch, frowns, then shrugs. "I don't really care. They can survive without asking me the exact same questions for the hundredth time, I think."

Daniel snorts. Max is probably right. What are they going to do, fire him? "As long as you don't get me in trouble," he says. He turns and flops down onto the couch, then winces, hisses, when it jostles his hand. "Fuck."

"Careful," Max says, rushing closer, his hands hovering. His voice is so...it's like something he'd use with his nephews, admonishing and gentle, and Daniel feels his throat close up, his eyes burn.

"I'm fine," he says, flapping his free hand at Max. "They have me wrapped up so tight, you could whack me with a hammer and I'd be fine."

Max frowns at him. "Let's not test it, alright?" He sits down next to Daniel, gingerly. It's awkward, sort of. Daniel hates visiting with people in this cramped space--sitting on the miniature sofa, nothing to look at but the kitchenette, the tiny window filled entirely by a rectangle of the wall of the motorhome next door. And now, he's too exhausted and in too much pain to be entertaining.

Still, he doesn't want Max to leave.

"Did they give you good pain meds?" Max asks.

Daniel lets his head tip back, and he closes his eyes. "Yep," he says, "but I'm just on Tylenol right now. The other stuff makes me feel sick." He takes a deep breath in, blows it out slow, focuses on the way his chest rises and falls. He can feel Max next to him, the heat of him. He knows how much he'd have to lean sideways for their bodies to be touching. "I'll take something stronger before bed, maybe." Then, because it's Max and Max is safe, he adds, "I wish I could just go home."

Fingers--warm and gentle--on the side of his face, first, and then on his neck, then gripping his shoulder, squeezing carefully. "I can leave, if you want," Max says.

They aren't like this with each other. They touch each other, sure--fist bumps, shoulder pats, hugs if they haven't seen each other in a while, all carefully platonic--but they don't touch like this. Daniel can feel Max's thumb on the skin just above the collar of his shirt, and it's hard to breathe, suddenly. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut.

"You can stay," he says.

What is this? Pity? He wants to look at Max's face, but he's too fucking scared. Scared he'll burst into tears or--or something even worse than that. Things have been so good. He didn't even realize how much he missed Max until he was seeing him this much again, laughing with him all the time, catching his eyes from across a room or across a table or across Checo's oblivious head and feeling...at home. Feeling like someone understands him and wants him around and--and wants him. Just him. Just as he is.

But Max has his own shit going on. His own life. His own friends. A fame Daniel won't match in his wildest dreams. Sometimes it feels like their roles are reversed from when Max first came to Red Bull. They have a similar rhythm, but Max is slightly out in front.

And now Max is touching him, and Daniel's not sure he can catch up.

"Or you can go," Daniel adds, quieter. "Whatever you want. I might pass out soon anyway."

Max's thumb slides along his collar and dips underneath. Daniel sucks in a sharp breath, anticipating it when Max slides his hand back up to his jaw and tugs it carefully toward him. Daniel's eyes are still shut when Max's mouth presses against his.

It's weird how much it doesn't feel weird. Max's mouth is so familiar against his that, if it weren't for his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, Daniel could swear they'd done this a hundred times already.

"I don't want to leave you," Max says, his lips soft against Daniel's cheek, then pressing again to the corner of his mouth, like he can't bring himself to put even an inch between them again. And yeah, Daniel gets it. He does.

"Fine by me," he says. If it weren't for his stupid fucking busted hand, he'd have pulled Max closer already. "Just be gentle with me."

It's a joke, kind of. He's not sure why he has to reach up and thumb a tear away from the corner of his own eye.

"Of course," Max says, and kisses him again. Again. "Of course."

#maxiel #f1 #my writing

[onyourowndaisymae]

when satan falls in love

content + warnings: satan x reader, satan's in his demon form and his tail is Not Cooperating, fluff // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.4k

satan's feet drag along the floor as he journeys from the front door to his safe haven. he stopped hiding his demon form the moment he trudged through the door-- now his heavy footsteps and the ominous drag of his tail against the ground are what tell people to stay away. the barbs catch a little along the wood floors. lucifer will bitch at him again when he notices, but right now satan isn't the least bit worried about his older brother's opinions.

the door to his room shuts with a loud thunk! the bookcases shudder with effort, the disorganized book stacks groaning with a quiet threat of toppling over. the noise echoes to his high ceilings, then dies amongst poetic words and fantastical novels.

he collapses on his bed and groans testily. his tail flicks about, impatient, looking for things to destroy-- he knows if he gives into his destructive urges he'll only regret it later. he's lost countless tomes to a fit of rage, spent hours cleaning up his messes only to piss himself off more.

satan rolls over and closes his eyes, practicing his breathing exercises to calm himself down. what had him worked up this much, anyways?

lots of things. his brothers had been especially rowdy today, starting his day off with an unusually irritating breakfast. then he had a surprise quiz early in the day. at lunch, you were whisked away by lord diavolo for some bullshit reason or another. he can still picture the apologetic look on your face, waving over your shoulder with a slight frown as you had to abandon him in favor of your responsibilities. pair that with a few hellish classes and another surprise student council meeting, and you'll understand why satan is particularly testy today.

damn. after all this time, he'd grown much better at making sure he could handle massive slights that pissed him off. it's the stacking of little things on top of each other that presses his buttons.

in truth, he'd probably be better if he'd seen more of you lately. lunch just seemed to be a tipping point in the drought of your love. how long has it been since he's been able curl up with you at his side? since he's gotten a moment to have a proper date with you? the tangled emotions only make his blood boil more.

his emerald eyes catch something unfamiliar at the edge of his vision. he knows the layout of his room top to bottom-- any minor changes to his disorganization are noted fairly quickly, regardless of what others might think.

there's an envelope peaking out of a nearby bookshelf. it's subtle, but noticeable enough when he believes he was intended to find it. his first instinct is to be angry. who the fuck thought they were entitled to access his room when he was gone?

satan rises from his bed and angrily snatches the envelope from its hiding spot. he's ready to rip it in half in a destructive fit of rage when he spots your handwriting on the front. the fire inside of him settles to embers as his eyes follow the curl of your letters as you wrote his name. he could spot that handwriting anywhere. the "s" in his name swoops with grandeur, like you're going out of your way to be fancy, and he can't help but smile a little. he opens the letter carefully-- there's no way he won't keep whatever this is, all because it came from you-- and begins to read your familiar scrawl across a nice piece of stationary.

my beloved satan,

i've missed you! that's odd to say considering we live together, but... life seems to find new ways every day to keep us apart. it's weird to look back on my day and realize i've barely seen you. we barely get a peaceful lunch together anymore! there's always someone joining us or pulling one of us away before we can settle... i don't mean to sound clingy, but i don't think it's bad to want to have some alone with your boyfriend!

as i'm writing this, i'm cooped up in diavolo's office during a little break in some meetings. there's some trouble with some of their human world contacts, so i've been brought in to act as a "bridge" between the two. that apparently means sitting through lots of boring, professional talks and trying to pretend like i'm not about to fall asleep. barbatos made some really nice tea, though, and that's been my saving grace so far.

i can't wait until we find some alone time again. i've never found something more peaceful than cuddling up to you while you're reading and listening to you breathe. if i rest my hand on your chest, i can hear your steady heartbeat, too. you always tease me for being so sleepy and run your hand along my back, but who wouldn't fall asleep under those conditions? i just feel so at peace when i'm with you. nobody else can make me feel so safe and cared for. even when we're not together, knowing you're there for me makes each day better.

was it weird of me to write this as a letter? i hope not. you hear about people writing their lovers romantic love letters in the movies and books. i thought i'd give it a try. it's nice to have a physical reminder of someone's feelings for you. ticket stubs and stuffed animals are nice, but i wanted to give you something that illustrates my feelings more clearly. i adore you. you mean the world to me. i feel like it's harder to say things like that when you look at me, but here in the letter i'll say it as many times as i want to. you are my best friend, satan, and i'm glad to have you as my partner.

i hope this letter makes you smile. i'm planning on hiding it in your room, so hopefully it'll take you a bit to find it.

yours always,

mc

so much for him waiting to find the letter.

in the quiet of his room, devoid of all distraction except the gentle whir of the air leaving a nearby vent, satan realizes he's in love with you.

his body freezes. for these past few weeks, he's intellectualized his feelings for you-- it's not love, but adoration. infatuation. lust, even. but no. he can feel the realization settling on his shoulders like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer.

when he was created, all satan would feel was reckless, horrifying, world-ending rage. it consumed him like a wildfire during a dry season, devouring any part of him that might be redeemable with the crackle of wild grass and the unforgiving heat. but meeting you changed him. his smiles were no longer plastic, but easy and natural. his irritation often simmered in his chest instead of exploding from his lips as harsh words, now just huffs and sharp glances.

you made him better. he knows now there's more to him than wrath. every single positive change in his life ever since you came to the devildom was driven by you.

he takes a deep breath to calm himself. instead of wrath, he's fighting the flush creeping up the back his neck. he reads the letter again, then again, each time sparking something in his stomach that he had to push down.

love. so this is what it feels like, huh?

he's read his fair share of sappy stories, but they all pale in comparison to the real thing. it's unsettling for him to be bursting with positive emotion, but here he is. flushed, stiff, listening to the silence as his heartbeat pounds in his ears. it takes him too long to realize that his tail was swishing behind him, thumping against a nearby chair enthusiastically. that only embarrasses him more-- is he really so in love with you that he's wagging his tail like a dog?

originally, he thought to corner you right now and show you just how much he appreciates the letter. but with his body acting out like this...

satan takes a seat his desk, digging around until he finds some suitable stationary, a writing feather (pretentious, he knows, but he can't ignore the urge to be so traditional), and an inkwell. if you were exchanging letters to express your feelings, now, then expect him to write you the best damn love letter you've ever seen.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset // @katerinaval // @lurkingsnails // @chirikoheina // @all-mights-wife // @notareum

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #otome

[mock-arts]

part 2/2 of my 2023 cover collection! This one only 75% star wars and 25% sandman. Check out my cover collection tag for big chunks of covers like this, or check out my big bang tag for a bunch of collab'd stuff! idk or do whatever you want!

oh, and happy thanksgiving for my american buds I'm thankful for getting to work with so many cool people

Links and summaries beneath the cut!

2023 cover collection

We'll Meet Again by @littledumplingwrites (art) (with more art by @punkascas)

When Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi is assigned to AgriCorps, he goes to his Creche Master to ask why he hasn’t been assigned to a Service Corps better suited. As a result he’s sent to MediCorps to become a healer. Cue Obi-Wan becoming Ben Kenobi: a master healer and specialized surgeon who does philanthropic MediCorps work on the Outer Rim. It’s hard work, but good work and he enjoys what he does. But when the Clone Wars start, Ben is called away from his humanitarian work to patch up Clone Troopers and Jedi on the battlefield. And once he’s there, he meets a rising star in the Clone Army: one Captain Cody.

Or, Healer-Surgeon Ben Kenobi was called to the war front. And he wasn't too keen on going. What were the Jedi even thinking when they started a war?

That M*A*S*H Star Wars AU that I just couldn't get out of my head, so I wrote it. (However, you do not have to know or have seen MASH to understand this.)

Healer Ben Kenobi, Reporting for Duty by @littledumplingwrites (art) (with podfic by mengde)

Healer Ben Kenobi finishes his surgical work on one battlefield and finds out he has a new assignment: rendezvous with the 212th and work with the clone healers there. This makes Ben a little nervous, because his new boyfriend Major Cody is a part of the 212th and Ben hasn’t heard from him in weeks.

Can the two of them work through their relationship issues, even as the Separatist Droid Army closes in on their position? Can Cody learn to trust someone who isn’t a brother? And can Ben learn to put his partner’s care above his past hurts?

Can be read as a standalone. Also, you do NOT need to know anything about M.A.S.H. to read or enjoy this story.

Bonds of Beskar by @popjeckdoom (art) (with more art by Aliennotperson)

In a universe where the Mandalorian Empire never fell, but changed, Ad’be’alor Kote Vhett faces threats from all sides. His father, Mand’alor Jango Vhett has been cursed into a Majick sleep, and as Tor Vizsla and his supporters tear the Council of Clans apart, Kote is desperate to wake his father and reunite the Empire. In an effort to save his father, and his people, Kote Vhett offers “anything” to the person who can cure his Father’s curse.

Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi may be the person for the job; only one issue--the Jedi have been in hiding for a thousand years, still hunted by Sith and Mandalorians alike. Can he keep his true identity secret long enough to help the Mand'alor... or will events conspire to reveal him before his mission is complete?

Forever; Without Stagnation by @noir-renard (art)

Din and Luke meet on Tatooine. Din and Luke fall in love. Din and Luke get married—

And then the plot catches up.

The Galaxy needs you, says The Force, and Luke believes it.

Din will understand, Luke thinks. It won’t take that long. What is a few years compared to the vow of 'forever'?

Only Blindly Could I Read You by @lillytalons (art) (with more art by @vanisketches

Rex's goal was to get into the organization, get the information, and take it down. Of course, no one had ever successfully infiltrated this empire, and most people had died attempting it, so it was easier said than done. But, the fact that a government agency had also sent in an agent, their best agent, was either a very good or very bad thing. Rex just happened to recognize them, and for some reason, Ben had decided that working together was the best option. What could go wrong?

It's a Sad Song (But We Sing it Anyway) by @ouzoa11-writes (art) (with more art by @impalafortrenchcoats)

Obi-Wan and Cody Kenobi have raised Luke for years and are at the center of the Rebellion when a new threat looms the horizon in the form of a new weapon. The tides seem to turn in their favor, even as they face new challenges along the way.

Or: Obi-Wan and Cody are soulmates who just want to see everyone survive. Their lives from Luke and Leia's nineteenth birthday to a confrontation with Vader alone.

Standalone though it is part of the "We Raise Our Cups To Them" universe

An Epiphany of Poppies Upon the Battlefield by @questing-wulfstan (art)

April 1940, On a French battlefield, Hob Gadling doubts his will to persevere in being alive for the second time of his existence. He swallows morphine in the hope to soothe his horror-scarified mind, and summons a mirage of the stranger who occupied his thoughts as the patron of his immortality. In a Japanese psychiatric ward, Delirium of the Endless is alerted by Dream's irruption in her realm, who she found missing when she sought his company on her quest for the Prodigal. Disappointment overcomes her as she finds it was but an image of her brother conjured by a mortal, and so it does Hob when her eruption dismisses the vision. Delirium will not resign herself to her exponential loss of brothers however, neither will Hob Gadling withhold his aid from any entity in distress, whether the stranger or his younger sister ; they just might hold the might to liberate Morpheus between their four hands ...

The Other Kingdom by @banhus (art)

In 1916, Roderick Burgess successfully summons Death, and Hob Gadling wakes up in the trenches alongside three dead soldiers.

#dreamling #dinluke #codywan #star wars #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #captain rex #din djarin #the mandalorian #luke skywalker #obirex #rexobi #hob gadling #dream of the endless #delirium of the endless #cover collection #collab

[munsonkitten]

Read on AO3

Eddie doesn’t sleep well anymore.

It’s not like he really did before, but it’s worse now. He only catches an hour or two a night before waking up again. Sometimes when exhaustion tugs too heavily at him, he slips away while laying on the couch in front of the TV. It never lasts long.

He tries to blame it on the environment. On the fact that he’s been staying at Steve Harrington’s house for two weeks, on the fact that people come in and out at all hours and leave it impossible to catch any shut eye, on the fact that the bed he’s sleeping on is too firm from disuse, the blankets too scratchy.

He’ll blame it on his pain, the nightmares.

He’ll blame it on anything, even Steve.

Everyone around him seems to be doing just fine. Steve has injuries similar to his own, yet he’s moving around like nothing’s wrong. Everyone else has seen horrible things, but they carry on like it’s another day in their lives.

Maybe it is, but Eddie expected to feel less alone here.

He expected to hear Steve waking up screaming each night from the nightmares that plague Eddie, too. He expected to see Dustin crying a lot, or looking at him differently after Eddie almost died in his arms.

(Did die, he reminds himself. He stopped breathing. Needed Steve to restart his heart. He should have died. He shouldn’t be here.)

He feels like he’s falling apart, but everyone else is here taking care of him like they aren’t hurting, too. Steve is taking care of him and changing his bandages and making him eat like Steve doesn’t have to do those things for himself.

That keeps Eddie up at night. Steve keeps Eddie up at night. For more reason than one.

He lays in his bed in the guest room on Steve Harrington’s ground floor and he stares at the ceiling because sleep isn’t coming. He’s in pain and he can’t stop thinking about Steve upstairs, and wonders if he ever falls apart when he’s on his own.

He has to, right? Steve has to be up there with sleepless nights and deep, aching wounds. He has to see Eddie’s lifeless eyes when he closes his own, has to remember the feeling of Eddie’s still heart beneath his fingertips.

It makes Eddie feel less alone down here to think Steve might be struggling, too. Even if Steve won’t show anyone, least of all Eddie.

Sleep isn’t coming tonight, and Eddie finally feels okay enough to walk on his own, so he slides out of bed as carefully as he can. He makes his way down the hallway to the kitchen and he can see that the light is on. It usually is. The Harrington kitchen is always open for whoever needs it, Eddie’s learned that over the last two weeks.

Tonight, though, it’s not Robin or Nancy or any of the kids sitting at the counter. In fact, no one is sitting in the kitchen tonight, but there’s leftover evidence of someone nearby. There’s a cup of coffee on the table, half drunk and probably cold by now, and the sliding door to the backyard is open.

It’s April and Eddie feels a chilly breeze coming in. He wraps his arms around his bandaged torso and goes toward the door, toward the blue lights of the Harrington’s heated pool. He smells cigarettes and itches for one before he even sees who’s smoking.

He really hopes it’s not one of the kids. He doesn’t think he’d be able to reprimand them for that, not as tired as he is right now.

The patio is cold beneath his bare feet when he steps out, the breeze working its way through his thin pajama bottoms. He turns his head from left to right, looking for the culprit of the 2AM coffee and the cigarette smoke wafting toward him.

There, in one of the pool chairs, Steve is lying. He has one hand covering his eyes, the other slowly bringing a cigarette up to his lips. Eddie watches him take a drag, the rise and fall of his chest as he inhales and exhales again. He watches as Steve’s hand shakes as he brings the cigarette away from his mouth again.

Eddie knows he should turn and leave. This is a private moment, and Eddie feels like an intruder. He’s felt like an intruder for the past two weeks, like he shouldn’t be here.

(He shouldn’t be, he reminds himself. He should be dead. He was dead.)

He knows he should turn and leave, but he can’t. He can only stare.

Steve isn’t wearing a shirt. He’s covered in bandages just like Eddie. If Eddie wasn’t looking at him now, he would think Steve was completely healed already. He’s looked nothing but put together for the past week. Carrying boxes of donated items and helping Eddie in and out of the bath, helping Eddie from bed to couch and back again. He hasn’t shown anyone any less than one hundred percent.

Right now, Eddie is seeing something Steve wouldn’t want him to see.

He can’t leave, though. Something is stopping him from leaving, something selfish is keeping him from turning around and going back to bed.

Seeing Steve like this — vulnerable, sleepless, shaking — makes Eddie feel less alone.

All he’s wanted his entire life is to feel less alone.

He just stands there. Watching as Steve finishes off the cigarette and stubs it out in the ashtray beside him. He watches as Steve sits up to look around for his pack and lighter, watches as he considers another and then sets it down and picks up a glass from the table instead.

As he sips, he finally looks over toward the house, and Eddie feels caught. He knows Steve sees him, even if neither of them react at all. He knows Steve probably thinks he’s a creep, the way Eddie’s watching him like this. Guilt washes over him. He isn’t supposed to watch Steve like this. He isn’t supposed to notice that he’s shirtless, he isn’t supposed to think about how he looks when he smokes.

He expects Steve to tell him to leave. He expects Steve to be mad.

But Steve just picks up a bottle of liquor from the ground beside him and waves it in Eddie’s direction.

“Get a glass from the cupboard if you want,” Steve says.

Eddie just stands there for a second, not knowing if this is a real invitation or if Steve’s just trying to be nice. He’s felt like that a lot. Like being in Steve’s house isn’t what Steve really wants. Like Steve hopes Eddie will say no every time he asks if Eddie wants to watch a movie with him.

“Well?” Steve asks.

So Eddie nods and goes back into the warmth of the kitchen to find a glass. He takes one down from the cupboard and finds a sweatshirt laying over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He doesn’t know who it belongs to at this point. He’s seen everyone from Robin to Nancy to Lucas wear it in the last week. It hangs loose on him when he pulls it over his head, but it’s better than sitting outside shirtless like Steve currently is.

The ground is cold beneath his bare feet as he crosses the patio to the pool chairs. He looks at the one beside Steve and the thought of sitting there in the cold makes him shiver. It’s so far from Steve’s chair and he can’t help but wonder if it would be weird to move it closer.

If it’s weird to want to share in Steve’s warmth.

“Here,” Steve says.

He saves Eddie from making the decision by pulling his feet up and pointing to the empty space of the pool lounger. Eddie sits down on the plastic slots, sitting perpendicular to Steve. Steve shoves his toes beneath Eddie’s thigh and offers the bottle of whiskey to him.

Eddie holds his glass out as Steve pours.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve asks.

Eddie hums in response and takes a sip of his drink. He wants to ask for a smoke, but doesn’t want to mooch. He hasn’t had one in over two weeks, not since Robin threw one into Lover’s Lake and the rest of his pack turned to mush when he fell in himself.

“Me neither,” Steve says. “Haven’t in a while, really.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Eddie says.

Steve snorts.

“No, really,” Eddie tells him. He decides fuck it, and reaches for the pack of smokes on the little glass table beside the chair. He sets his glass down on the ground by his cold feet and pulls a cigarette out. “You’re really, ah, good at this shit, I guess. Good at making it seem easy.”

Steve scoffs and leans forward, his lighter in hand. Eddie puts the cigarette in his mouth and cups his hands around it for Steve to light it. A memory flickers into his mind of dark hair and freckles, someone from another lifetime lighting his cigarette as a way of flirting with him.

With everything else she had to offer him, it had worked, and Eddie’s so exhausted his brain tricks him into thinking that Steve is flirting now, too. His sleepless mind is telling him it would work even better now, that he could make it work with Steve, better than he did with Paige.

“It’s easy to pretend when everyone else is around,” Steve says after a second. He’s still leaning forward toward Eddie, his arms wrapped around his knees. “When the kids need me, I have to be there for them, you know? They expect me to have it all figured out, and hell, I need to pretend like I do. But when I’m alone…”

He trails off.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.

They sit there in silence for a while. Eddie smokes his cigarette and Steve sips at his drink. It’s cold out, but Eddie doesn’t want to go back inside. He wants to be where Steve is, wants to feel the point of contact where Steve’s toes are shoved under his leg. He doesn’t want to burst the bubble they’ve found themselves in tonight.

It fills Eddie with warmth despite the cold.

“I don’t think you should stay here anymore,” Steve blurts out after several minutes of silence.

And the bubble shatters. All the warmth between them leaks out and Eddie’s left with nothing but the late night chill. He slides away, down to the end of the pool chair, away from Steve’s touch.

“Oh,” is all he can say.

“It’s… I mean,” Steve says. He stumbles over his words, hands moving up to cover his face. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s cool, man. You don’t want me here, anymore, I get it,” Eddie says. He pretends it doesn’t hurt his heart to hear it. He’s looking down at his hands, knowing he’ll start crying if he sees how Steve’s looking at him right now. “Wayne almost has a new place for us, anyway. I can stay with Henderson for a few days, no worries.”

“No, it’s — it’s not that I don’t want you here,” Steve says. “I think, uh — fuck, man. I want you here too much, I think?”

Eddie leans down to put his cigarette out on the concrete. He picks up his glass while he’s down there and brings it to his lips as he sits up again. He doesn’t know what Steve’s saying, or how to respond. Or, more like, he thinks he understands what Steve’s saying, but he’s so tired he doesn’t actually want to make a guess and be wrong about it, because that’s very likely here.

He doesn’t want to think about the lighter or the way Steve’s touch lingers when he helps Eddie from his bed to the couch. It could never mean what Eddie wants it to mean, but now Eddie isn’t so sure it doesn’t.

“You gotta tell me what you mean,” Eddie says softly, looking down into his glass.

“It’s not just the monsters that keep me up at night,” Steve says. “It’s not just the nightmares or the fear that everyone I care about is going to die. It’s not — it’s not just Max in her coma, it’s not the chunks of flesh taken out of my skin, it’s — god, all that seems easy sometimes. That all makes sense, as fucked up as that is. I’ve been going through this shit for years, I can — I mean, I’ve handled it, and I still do, it’s just…”

Eddie sits there listening to Steve. He lets the silence hang between them as he waits for Steve to continue. He doesn’t want to interrupt and ruin everything here by saying something stupid, or by jumping to conclusions based on his own wants and desires.

“You keep me up at night,” Steve finally says. “It’s — fuck, Eddie, don’t get mad at me, or anything, okay? You keep me up at night because I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop — it doesn’t make sense, does it? I’ve only been with girls, but this feels like that. This feels like — like when I was crushing on Nancy, and… And now I’m realizing maybe this isn’t the first time it’s been like this. Like, maybe I’ve looked at other guys, and…”

“Steve,” Eddie breathes. He turns to him, sees the open and vulnerable way Steve is looking back. “I’m not gonna get mad at you for that.”

“That’s why you can’t stay here anymore,” Steve says. “Because every time I see you naked when you need help in the bath, and every time I help you to the couch or the kitchen, I just… Never want to let go.”

“Christ,” Eddie breathes.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I’ve been taking advantage of this situation, and it’s wrong.”

“What? No,” Eddie says. “No, no, it’s — Steve, you know I’m gay, right? I have, like, no problem with guys looking at me.”

“You had sex with Nicole Summers at one of my parties in high school,” Steve says. “And I heard about Cass Finnegan, and you — you had that girlfriend for a while, uh… Mark Warner’s sister, right? I remember him talking about you at practice once.”

“Jesus, I didn’t know you had all my sexual experience cataloged, Harrington,” Eddie huffs.

It’s not like any of those girls were a secret. And Eddie’s pretty sure Carol had a hand in daring Nicole to sleep with him at that party. He knew everyone just wanted to see if the freak would get with a girl, and he’s pretty sure that night didn’t help the rumors of him being a fag. It’s just… Surprising that Steve Harrington of all people would remember names and details like that.

“It’s… I mean, word gets around,” Steve offers, a bit sheepish.

“Then you probably also know I barely touched Nic or Cass and barely got hard enough for anything to happen. God knows they told everyone.”

“No, I… But Warner’s sister?”

Eddie shrugs. “She offered me a way out of town. I thought that was love.”

“Huh.”

Eddie pulls one leg up and turns on the chair so he can fully face Steve.

“It’s okay that you’ve been having less than innocent thoughts about me, Harrington,” Eddie tells him. “Especially considering I’ve been looking at you.”

Saying it feels like a weight off Eddie’s chest. He’s been living here in Steve’s house for two weeks, and he’s been crushing on Steve for even longer. He’s had enough time to come to terms with being gay, but coming to terms with liking Steve has been an ongoing battle.

Steve Harrington has always been forbidden.

Too pretty for someone like Eddie. Too rich, too sporty, too straight. No one like Steve would ever like someone like Eddie, that’s what he’s told himself.

That’s what he tells himself every time he’s caught Steve’s eyes lingering. It’s what he tells himself when Steve offers to light his cigarette, or when he shoves his cold toes beneath Eddie’s thigh.

But knowing he doesn’t need to tell himself that anymore, knowing he was wrong, and that the lighter and the looks were all something more, knowing all of that — it’s a weight off Eddie’s chest.

Knowing he won’t get punched in the face and kicked out of Steve’s house for looking back, for wanting to touch, all of it eases something inside him.

It warms him despite the cold.

It makes him feel like he’s won the battle.

It makes him feel less alone.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers.

He’s leaning forward again, sliding his legs down so his knees are no longer pressed to his chest. There’s less empty space between the two of them now. The gap is becoming smaller and smaller.

As Eddie laid awake tonight, he thought Steve was upstairs in his own room, a staircase and rooms and hallways away from him. He thought Steve was so far away, up in a part of the house Eddie hasn’t yet ventured because he doesn’t think he could make it up the stairs on his own.

And he felt so goddamn alone.

But Steve was closer than that. He was just outside, sitting in a pool chair just outside Eddie’s window. He was so close, and now — now he’s just inches away.

He’s just inches away, and he’s been feeling the same things Eddie’s been feeling this whole time. He’s been pining away, so scared of what Eddie would say about it, and Eddie, he’s been scared of what Steve might say if he knew, and it turns out — it turns out Eddie hasn’t been alone at all.

“Steve,” Eddie whispers back.

One of Steve’s hands comes up to touch Eddie’s cheek. His thumb runs along the edge of the bandage on Eddie’s cheek, light as a feather. So gentle.

Eddie wants to kiss him. He thinks Steve might want that, too, but even with the admission of feelings, Eddie doesn’t think he can make the first move. He’s never made the first move. He has to be prompted, has to be told, has to have it done for him because he just never knows. He never knows if it’s safe, when he’s right here on the precipice.

And with Steve, it matters. It matters that Eddie does this right and doesn’t take what isn’t freely given. He can’t just jump to any conclusions here. Steve may like him, but that doesn’t mean he wants to pursue anything with him.

Neither one of them move, and Eddie has the sinking feeling that Steve is thinking the same exact way. That whoever moves first is sealing some sort of deal that could either make or break this thing brewing between them.

“What’re you thinking about?” Steve asks.

Eddie shrugs. You, he wants to say. Always you. You keep me up at night, too. You make me feel less alone just by being here.

He doesn’t say any of that.

“I’m tired,” he says instead.

The hand on his face falls away, and then Steve’s gaze does too. He looks over toward the pool, away from Eddie. It was the wrong thing to say, Eddie knows that. He just… Can’t do this tonight. Not when his head is heavy with sleep deprivation and his heart is pounding with his inability to kiss Steve first.

“Okay, yeah. Right,” Steve says. “It’s late.”

“And cold,” Eddie says.

“And cold,” Steve agrees.

Eddie picks up his glass and finishes it, probably too fast, but hopefully it’ll help him fall asleep. He watches as Steve gathers up his things and stands on unsteady feet. Eddie has to wonder how long he’s been sitting out here drinking. He has to wonder if Steve actually notices how cold it is out here.

Maybe it’s because it doesn’t compare to the Upside Down. Maybe this feels warm to Steve, the opposite of how Eddie feels these days. Like the cold seeped into Eddie’s skin and won’t ever leave. Maybe this is a respite for Steve, a break from the frozen nightmares.

They make their way into the house, back into the warmth of the kitchen, back into the golden light in the house. Away from the blue outside. Their glasses get put in the sink, the bottle of whiskey gets left on the counter. Steve shoves his smokes and lighter back into the pockets of his pajama pants, and Eddie almost asks if he can have another for later, but he doesn’t.

He thinks about asking if they can watch a movie, just so they can be near each other for a little while longer.

Falling asleep on the couch with Steve a few feet away always feels safer. Like he can give in and doze for a little while.

Standing in the hallway just outside the kitchen, they pause and look at each other. They need to go in opposite directions, Steve back upstairs and Eddie down the hallway to his bedroom. Neither one of them move, and Eddie knows the moment isn’t over yet. Steve’s still looking at him like he was outside, like he wants to cup Eddie’s cheek again and pull him in this time.

He doesn’t want to leave Steve yet. He’s so tired, but he knows he won’t be able to sleep once he lays down, not if he lets this night end like this, without either of them making a move and sealing that deal.

“Can we —” Eddie starts.

Just as Steve says, “Do you —”

They both fall silent.

“Go ahead,” Eddie says.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Steve asks. “Just — I mean, to sleep, you know? It might be easier.”

“Just to sleep?” Eddie asks, an eyebrow raised.

“I swear I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Eddie laughs, something soft and quiet between them. He really likes Steve, and he’s not so scared of thinking about it anymore.

“Okay,” Eddie agrees.

“Yeah?”

Eddie nods, and Steve smiles, and Eddie thinks he might be falling in love, and that scares him, but not enough to try stopping it.

They take the stairs slowly. Eddie hasn’t done any stairs since getting out of the hospital, and he just started to move around the ground floor a bit more freely. He thinks he’s going to need a cane eventually, but for now he leans against Steve and lets himself be helped. Steve’s arm is warm around his waist, his body firm and strong against Eddie’s side.

By the time they make it to the top, Eddie needs to rest against the wall for a second so he can catch his breath. He feels a little lightheaded, has to close his eyes and breathe through it. Steve’s hand comes up to touch his neck, thumb pressing to his pulse.

Steve has to feel how fast Eddie’s heart is beating. Eddie wonders if he’s trying to cover up the memories of stillness. If he’s trying to replace them with proof that Eddie’s still here.

“Just breathe,” Steve whispers. “You’re okay. Take your time.”

Eddie nods. Takes another deep breath. “I’m good.”

Steve’s bedroom isn’t too far from the top of the stairs, which is a relief. Eddie’s never been in there before, but it feels familiar,like he has. Sports trophies line the top of Steve’s dresser, posters of half-naked women and Steve’s favorite bands line the plaid walls, and the nail bat rests against his nightstand.

If Eddie weren’t so tired, he would take some time to look around at all the little pieces of Steve’s life, to see what kinds of things he can glean from the trinkets and posters and photos he has on display. But right now, all he can do is tug the sweatshirt over his head and fall into Steve’s bed.

He lands a bit uncomfortably, wincing as his wounds take the impact, but Steve’s there with gentle hands and a concerned look on his face, and Eddie forgets the pain for a second. Steve leans over him where he stands, one hand on Eddie’s chest, the other coming up to cup his cheek.

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. Pleads. It’s a plea, the way he says it. He needs Steve to make this decision, to either lean in and kiss him, or not.

He can’t take it anymore.

And then Steve climbs into bed with him, pushing himself up on one elbow as he lays beside Eddie, and his other hand comes back up to Eddie’s face, and he’s—

He’s leaning in, and Eddie’s lips part and his eyes fall shut, and he waits for the contact. He lays there on his back in Steve Harrington’s bed and waits for the press of lips to his own.

A noise falls from his lips when it finally happens, something between a moan and a whimper. It surprises him when he hears it, but he can’t even be embarrassed because he’s so tired and because this is what he’s wanted for so long.

The kiss is gentle, almost hesitant. Like they’re both too scared to push each other too hard. Like they’re both too tired to turn this into anything more. The kiss is soft, but it’s full of everything Eddie’s never been allowed to have.

Steve’s lips press against his and he’s never felt like this before. He’s never wanted to keep someone like this. None of the girls he fucked, none of the nameless guys in bars he kissed and let fuck him, none of it even compares.

He likes Steve, and he knows Steve likes him back. This isn’t a prelude to rough, dirty sex in a bar bathroom. This isn’t a dare at a party to see if the freak will put out. This isn’t him thinking he’s in love because someone offered him a ticket out of town.

This is different.

This kiss is from someone who gives him a reason to stay. It’s from someone who wants to know him and hold him and make sure he gets enough sleep.

Steve Harrington is someone Eddie could love easily and freely. He thinks he might already be there, after just two weeks of Steve’s generous heart showing him what it means to have people care.

When Steve pulls away, he doesn’t go far. He keeps his hand on Eddie’s face, a soft thumb moving along the edge of the bandage on his cheek. His breath comes out in soft puffs against Eddie’s skin, close enough that Eddie feels it.

“I know I said we’d just sleep, but I had to do that,” Steve whispers, tilting his forehead to rest against Eddie’s.

They’re so close that Eddie can feel the heat between their bodies, the warmth in the space between them. He wants Steve even closer, to feel him against his skin, to hold him under the safety of the blankets.

“It’s okay,” Eddie laughs. “I don’t mind.”

“Good,” Steve whispers. “Soon as you’re better, I want to take you out.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Harrington?”

“I suppose I am.”

Eddie hums in thought, then presses another kiss to Steve’s lips. “I accept your offer.”

Steve smiles, and Eddie can’t stop his own from forming.

They kiss a little more, but eventually sleep tugs at Eddie in a way that can’t be ignored. He’s so exhausted, there’s nothing left to hold onto, no thoughts racing through his head to keep him up.

As he starts to drift, he feels Steve roll him over, and the last thing he remembers is Steve pressing against his back and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Eddie sleeps better than he has in a few weeks. He still wakes before the sun, but he doesn’t have to lay there wondering if Steve’s struggling to sleep, too. He doesn’t have to lay there feeling cold and alone. Not when Steve whispers something unintelligible into Eddie’s neck and pulls him closer.

Not when Steve’s here to keep him warm — to keep him safe.

It’s easy to fall back asleep.

Read on AO3

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve/eddie #steddie fic #my fics #stranger things

[alexiethymia]

Listen, book!Lockwood who is so repressed that it just translates to beaming smiles has a special place in my heart, but at the same time I cannot stress how much I appreciate the live action series for showing us unbelievably exhausted Lockwood who’s so obviously scared that Lucy and George will eventually leave (willingly or otherwise) but still has the gall to push them away. My boy was barely pulling it together. And ofc he would be so tired that the bags under his eyes are so prominent because we’re outside of Lucy’s POV now. Lucy who’s always had rose-colored glasses when it comes to him.

Speaking of Lucy, I really do love how she calls him out. She’s so aggressive with her love. It’s like she’s demanding that George and her will love and care for him and there’s absolutely nothing Lockwood can do about it so he just better shut up and take it. Peak found family right there.

How that scene where Lockwood comes to apologize to Lucy in the kitchen had so much ‘husband in the doghouse’ vibes, and how ultimately what Lucy is really mad about is just her wanting Lockwood to value his life more. And for Lockwood to outright admit that yeah he was a bit suicidal but it’s a bit like he found a new reason for living because of Lucy and George, again I say PEAK FOUND FAMILY, this is my jam. The ease of which Lucy being Lucy calms him down. (Ugh, again the domesticity of choosing egg cups). He can’t stand when she’s mad at him and he learns about apologizing properly this time around, but when she wordlessly forgives him, you can see on his face how he could fall so quickly and deeply in love with her. That’s one thing I love so much about the live action series. While the book showed us more of Lucy’s feelings for Lockwood, I actually think the series highlights Lockwood’s feelings more in that if I hadn’t read the books beforehand, I could have easily seen it as Lockwood falling first. His abandonment issues are so prominent in the series and while they play it with humor with Fittes and Kipps, you can just see that desperation behind the lighthearted tone, and for Lucy to say that she chooses Lockwood and George anyway….!

This is basically an excuse to ramble about the little things they add in the series that I love so much, which works because we’re not restricted to Lucy’s POV, in no particular order:

How Flo can immediately see how Lockwood feels about Lucy because of the effect she has on him. Prior to that statement, she’d only met Lucy once before, but that brief meeting told her everything she needed to know. She probably knew Lockwood in the aftermath of his family’s death, so for her to see Lockwood just buttering someone’s else toast for them and being all domestic and smiley, treating another person like a family member especially considering how guarded he is, she must have thought (and rightly so) that meeting Lucy made him have an appetite for life again.

We actually get to see Fittes’ and Lockwood’s side of the fight! And it was awesome. “I’m Anthony bloody Lockwood.” I can no longer remember if that line was in the book or not but idc I love it.

George and Lucy’s scene was in the book, but the acting in the series just really sold it for me. How Lucy’s heart just broke hearing George talk about himself, especially everything he said then were feelings I’m sure she’s also had about herself. I seriously loved that last episode. George and Lucy were adorable. Again I say, found family ftw.

The rise of the Flo x George ship! “You, me, and herons!” Again I say, adorable.

There are some elements that work better in book format, but in many ways the tv series really did elevate this beloved book series. It was a wonderful, wonderful adaptation. As a reader, I couldn’t be more satisfied. As a shipper, I couldn’t be more ecstatic.

#lockwood & co. #lockwood and co #locklyle #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #george karim #george cubbins #flo bones #books #tv #I loved it so much #I thought pining lucy was bad enough #but pining lockwood?? #omg I can’t believe we’re in the best timeline #if he’s already like this at this point #I can’t even imagine him should we reach The Hollow Boy and the aftermath of lucy leaving #he already had a death wish #he will no doubt end up unhinged at this rate when lucy leaves