#1984 fanfic?

[adickaboutspoons]

Last night I dreamed Rhys and Taika were in a sequel to 1984 (I know. Of all the media that doesn't require a sequel. My brain is dumb. Go with me here) where Rhys was playing Winston, and the Ministry has decided that, as part of his post room 101 existence (punishment?) He was being assigned a roommate (played by Taika). And things were cordial as they could be when you think you've been assigned your own personal Big Brother - I'd even go so far as to say they were making inroads to being actual friends. But the movie kept focusing on shots of Winston!Rhys fixating on details that contradicted the accounts Roommate!Taika made of his day (like he'd talk about how he'd gone for a hike in the woods and the camera would cut to a close up of his immaculately clean shoes, and then to Rhys' guarded expression of mistrust). At one point, Roommate!Taika was telling a story about how he was late getting home because he'd had to shelter in place because of a drill in case of air raid by Eurasia (we have always been at war with Eurasia), and his gas mask had practically suffocated him. And Winston!Rhys responded by tracing his fingers over the obvious lack of mask marks on his face. To which Roommate!Taika responded with "So. The persiv part of our confinement has begun, has it?" (Persiv, in my dream, being newspeak for "personal space invasion" and understood to be basically equivalent to rape)

And then he kissed Winston!Rhys. A really good kiss, both of them clearly into it, just a hint of tongue. Like the kind of kiss to definitively put to rest all the hand-wringing about how weird and awkward ofmd s2 sex scenes might be.

And in my dream I was like 'WHY HAS THIS GIF NOT BEEN ALL OVER MY DASH?!?!" And got so excited at the prospect of sharing the clip (and using it in vids, honestly, because they didn't look TOO significantly different from their ofmd characters aside from costuming, and the kiss was enough of a close up that you could fudge it) that I woke up.

So sorry, gang. I wish I could export files directly from my brain meats to show you. 😔

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Sandra Newman’s “Julia”

The first chapter of Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four has a fantastic joke that nearly everyone misses: when Julia, Winston Smith's love interest, is introduced, she has oily hands and a giant wrench, which she uses in her "mechanical job on one of the novel-writing machines":

https://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks01/0100021.txt

That line just kills me every time I re-read the book – Orwell, a novelist, writing a dystopian future in which novels are written by giant, clanking mechanisms. Later on, when Winston and Julia begin their illicit affair, we get more detail:

She could describe the whole process of composing a novel, from the general directive issued by the Planning Committee down to the final touching-up by the Rewrite Squad. But she was not interested in the finished product. She 'didn't much care for reading,' she said. Books were just a commodity that had to be produced, like jam or bootlaces.

I always assumed Orwell was subtweeting his publishers and editors here, and you can only imagine that the editor who asked Orwell to tweak the 1984 manuscript must have felt an uncomfortable parallel between their requests and the notional Planning Committee and Rewrite Squad at the Ministry of Truth.

I first read 1984 in the early winter of, well, 1984, when I was thirteen years old. I was on a family trip that included as visit to my relatives in Leningrad, and the novel made a significant impact on me. I immediately connected it to the canon of dystopian science fiction that I was already avidly consuming, and to the geopolitics of a world that seemed on the brink of nuclear devastation. I also connected it to my own hopes for the nascent field of personal computing, which I'd gotten an early start on, when my father – then a computer science student – started bringing home dumb terminals and acoustic couplers from his university in the mid-1970s. Orwell crystallized my nascent horror at the oppressive uses of technology (such as the automated Mutually Assured Destruction nuclear systems that haunted my nightmares) and my dreams of the better worlds we could have with computers.

It's not an overstatement to say that the rest of my life has been about this tension. It's no coincidence that I wrote a series of "Little Brother" novels whose protagonist calls himself w1n5t0n:

https://craphound.com/littlebrother/Cory_Doctorow_-_Little_Brother.htm

I didn't stop with Orwell, of course. I wrote a whole series of widely read, award-winning stories with the same titles as famous sf tales, starting with "Anda's Game" ("Ender's Game"):

https://www.salon.com/2004/11/15/andas_game/

And "I, Robot":

https://craphound.com/overclocked/Cory_Doctorow_-_Overclocked_-_I_Robot.html

"The Martian Chronicles":

https://escapepod.org/2019/10/03/escape-pod-700-martian-chronicles-part-1/

"True Names":

https://archive.org/details/TrueNames

"The Man Who Sold the Moon":

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/05/22/the-man-who-sold-the-moon/

and "The Brave Little Toaster":

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212

Writing stories about other stories that you hate or love or just can't get out of your head is a very old and important literary tradition. As EL Doctorow (no relation) writes in his essay "Genesis," the Hebrews stole their Genesis story from the Babylonians, rewriting it to their specifications:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/41520/creationists-by-e-l-doctorow/

As my "famous title" stories and Little Brother books show, this work needn't be confined to antiquity. Modern copyright may be draconian, but it contains exceptions ("fair use" in the US, "fair dealing" in many other places) that allow for this kind of creative reworking. One of the most important fair use cases concerns The Wind Done Gone, Alice Randall's 2001 retelling of Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind from the perspective of the enslaved characters, which was judged to be fair use after Mitchell's heirs tried to censor the book:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suntrust_Bank_v._Houghton_Mifflin_Co.

In ruling for Randall, the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals emphasized that she had "fully employed those conscripted elements from Gone With the Wind to make war against it." Randall used several of Mitchell's most famous lines, "but vest[ed] them with a completely new significance":

https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/appellate-courts/F3/268/1257/608446/

The Wind Done Gone is an excellent book, and both its text and its legal controversy kept springing to mind as I read Sandra Newman's wonderful novel Julia, which retells 1984 from the perspective of Julia, she of the oily hands the novel-writing machine:

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/julia-sandra-newman?variant=41467936636962

Julia is the kind of fanfic that I love, in the tradition of both Wind Done gone and Rosenkrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead, in which a follow-on author takes on the original author's throwaway world-building with deadly seriousness, elucidating the weird implications and buried subtexts of all the stuff and people moving around in the wings and background of the original.

For Newman, the starting point here is Julia, an enigmatic lover who comes to Winston with all kinds of rebellious secrets – tradecraft for planning and executing dirty little assignations and acquiring black market goods. Julia embodies a common contradiction in the depiction of young women (she is some twenty years younger than Winston): on the one hand, she is a "native" of the world, while Winston is a late arrival, carrying around all his "oldthink" baggage that leaves him perennially baffled, terrified and angry; on the other hand, she's a naive "girl," who "doesn't much care for reading," and lacks the intellectual curiosity that propels Winston through the text.

This contradiction is the cleavage line that Newman drives her chisel into, fracturing Orwell's world in useful, fascinating, engrossing ways. For Winston, the world of 1984 is totalitarian: the Party knows all, controls all and misses nothing. To merely think a disloyal thought is to be doomed, because the omnipotent, omniscient, and omnicompetent Party will sense the thought and mark you for torture and "vaporization."

Orwell's readers experience all of 1984 through Winston's eyes and are encouraged to trust his assessment of his situation. But Newman brings in a second point of view, that of Julia, who is indeed far more worldly than Winston. But that's not because she's younger than him – it's because she's more provincial. Julia, we learn, grew up outside of the Home Counties, where the revolution was incomplete and where dissidents – like her parents – were sent into exile. Julia has experienced the periphery of the Party's power, the places where it is frayed and incomplete. For Julia, the Party may be ruthless and powerful, but it's hardly omnicompetent. Indeed, it's rather fumbling.

Which makes sense. After all, if we take Winston at his word and assume that every disloyal citizen of Oceania is arrested, tortured and murdered, where would that leave Oceania? Even Kim Jong Un can't murder everyone who hates him, or he'd get awfully lonely, and then awfully hungry.

Through Julia's eyes, we experience Oceania as a paranoid autocracy, corrupt and twitchy. We witness the obvious corollary of a culture of denunciation and arrest: the ruling Party of such an institution must be riddled with internecine struggle and backstabbing, to the point of paralyzed dysfunction. The Orwellian trick of switching from being at war with Eastasia to Eurasia and back again is actually driven by real military setbacks – not just faked battles designed to stir up patriotic fervor. The Party doesn't merely claim to be under assault from internal and external enemies – it actually is.

Julia is also perfectly positioned to uncover the vast blank spots in Winston's supposed intellectual curiosity, all the questions he doesn't ask – about her, about the Party, and about the world. I love this trope and used it myself, in Attack Surface, the third "Little Brother" book, which is told from the point of view of Marcus's frenemy Masha:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531/attacksurface

Through Julia, we come to understand the seemingly omniscient, omnipotent Party as fumbling sadists. The Thought Police are like MI5, an Island of Misfit Toys where the paranoid, the stupid, the vicious and the thuggish come together to ruin the lives of thousands, in such a chaotic and pointless manner that their victims find themselves spinning devastatingly clever explanations for their behavior:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/adamcurtis/entries/3662a707-0af9-3149-963f-47bea720b460

And, as with Nineteen Eighty-Four, Julia is a first-rate novel, expertly plotted, with fantastic, nail-biting suspense and many smart turns and clever phrases. Newman is doing Orwell, and, at times, outdoing him. In her hands, Orwell – like Winston – is revealed as a kind of overly credulous romantic who can't believe that anyone as obviously stupid and deranged as the state's representatives could be kicking his ass so very thoroughly.

This was, in many ways, the defining trauma and problem of Orwell's life, from his origin story, in which he is shot through the throat by a fascist: sniper during the Spanish Civil War:

https://www.rjgeib.com/thoughts/soldiers/george-orwell-shot.html

To his final days, when he developed a foolish crush on a British state spy and tried to impress her by turning his erstwhile comrades in to her:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orwell%27s_list

Newman's feminist retelling of Orwell is as much about puncturing the myth of male competence as it is about revealing the inner life, agency, and personhood of swooning love-interests. As someone who loves Orwell – but not unconditionally – I was moved, impressed, and delighted by Julia.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/28/novel-writing-machines/#fanfic

[evanswifeily]

I swear if someone will say that Evan Peters is just a man i don’t know what I’ll do to them yet BUT HE IS A GOD‼️

[finniestoncrane]

mm I’m haunted by so many visions. When. When Egon Splenger. Makes that joke. The penis joke. And he has that smile. That look. With the bookcase behind him. TUMBLR USER FINNIESTONECRANE! I have NEVER felt such a STRONG urge to shove a man against a bookcase. He just. I. When he. When. Just like. He. When. Mm.

Egon Spengler x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.6k anon you and me both i cant express to you how badly that scene made me want him and i wanted him pretty fuckin badly before that lmao BUT here's some reader who is actually able to prove his theory that the chicks dig his epididymus moore so👻 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, flirting, handjob, good old fashioned ball gargling

"Studious, dedicated. Intelligent beyond need for the work I'd require you to do... Why do you want this position?"

You remembered the moment well. The interview with Egon that landed you the job in his research team. You'd fumbled over the words at first, your entire academic career flashing before your eyes. Ever since you had first seen him in those silly commercials, then watched him as he saved the world and went back to the field for his work, you'd wanted him. The opportunity to work with him was something you had waited your life for. And you thought you had ruined it in the moment.

"I'm a huge fan, Doctor Spengler."

Nothing about your academic achievements, your interest in this particular study, or any of his previous ones. No, you'd muttered a ridiculous statement with no substance that made you seem like a childish moron.

But Egon had raised an eyebrow, a smile raising on one side of his mouth in a knowing look. Almost flirtatious, definitely something behind it.

That's how your relationship had continued, the tension only building each passing day as you worked together late into the evenings and often on weekends, each others' only point of contact for days on end.

Nothing had ever come of it, though, past suggestive remarks and lingering touches, looks that felt like they lasted for minutes. You wondered if you were both far too shy to confront it, or if he felt it would push the boundaries of professionalism.

Either way, you harboured the crush still, and spent your days making sure you worked to his expectations, living to please him in at least one of the ways you wanted to. It was that level of concentration that meant you hadn't noticed when Egon's old colleague, Doctor Venkman, had entered the lab. At least not until he had begun making loud remarks and crude jokes, intended to be at the expense of Egon.

"Bet those science chicks really dig that big cranium of yours."

With a quick glance in your direction, Egon caught your eye. You looked away, trying to pretend that you weren't staring at him, but it was obvious he had caught you. And with a growing grin, he looked back to Venkman.

"I think they're more interested in my epididymis."

You blushed immediately, understanding the joke a lot faster than Venkman, who might not have gotten it at all. Trying to hide the reddening of your cheeks, you buried your face in your paperwork and didn't even bother to look up as Venkman said goodbye and left the lab. You only looked up when Egon cleared his throat, catching him just as he turned his back to you and continued filing through the paperwork and medical books lined up on the shelves in front of him.

That was a giveaway, a hint, securing the possibility in your mind. Egon had been talking about you. The joke, a reference to your clear interest in him, a sly but subtle nod at the unspoken attraction, an inside joke between you and him in front of his friend. The way he had looked at you, the way he always did. It was difficult to deny it. So you took matters into your own hands, a little bit sick of waiting for him to make the first move. You'd applied to the job, you'd complimented him first, you began the surreptitious flirting. You might as well be the one that started this too.

"Doctor Spengler..."

You spoke from the other side of the room, only beginning to walk towards him when he had turned away from the bookshelves and was paying attention to you.

"... do you have any evidence to that theory that you proposed?"

"Which theory?"

"The one about your... cranium, verses other aspects of your anatomy.

As you approached him, he smiled to you, a knowing grin that spoke volumes.

"I've observed a fair amount of evidence to support it, actually."

He turned from you again, filing the last of the files he held in his hands as he continued.

"Although, I suppose for it to be concrete, I would require some quantifiable data. An example that could-"

As he turned once more, he found you right in front of him, reaching your hand out to cup the front of his dark grey, woollen slacks. You stroked down the quickly stiffening length, letting your fingers reach further, teasing at his balls. Leaning into him, you pushed his back against the book case, watching as his eyes widened, his smile grew brighter, and his cheeks began to darken.

"Would this be sufficient evidence?"

Egon's voice shook on the first word, but he managed to compose himself.

"P-perhaps. Although, it wouldn't be much to write about in an academic or research sense."

"Oh, I can give you a lot to write about, Doctor Spengler."

You pressed your chest to him, hands around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. As your palms drifted around to his cheeks, they quickly fell to his tie, tugging on it as you brought him closer, feeling his own hands skimming over your side, settling on your waist as the kiss deepened. Satisfied that he wasn't going anywhere, you let go of your grip on him and began running your hands through his hair, playfully teasing at the curls before you pulled back, watching with glee as he followed you, lips outstretched, before opening his eyes.

"This isn't about your cranium, though, Doctor Spengler."

Sinking to your knees in front of him, you looked up as you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. He reached behind him, resting his palms against the rows of books and files, trying to balance himself as he cleared the nerves from his throat. A short inhale choked in his throat as you gripped his cock, removing it from his underwear and letting it bounce free in front of you.

You wrapped your palm around his surprising, but slim, length and being stroking it slowly, watching the way his mouth moved, tongue pressing out, soft gasps emanating from his throat, as you felt him throbbing against you. And just as he adjusted himself to the sensation of your hand pumping his cock softly, you leaned forwards, tongue out, spread flat, and suddenly against his balls.

"Oh-ho... oh my."

With a soft laugh, you placed a kiss to his sack, lips wet from your drool, and let your mouth pull away for just a second before you went back in for another, tongue pushed out from your lips to lap at him as you kissed once more. On the third one, you let your lips enclose over a patch of skin, sucking slightly, tongue tip stiff and tracing over the skin in your mouth before you let go.

You stroked his cock a little rougher, placing your tongue just below it so his balls could bounce and slap on your tongue, the gentle impact rousing a heat in you, the sound almost electric in the air. Egon's fingers were stiff, tensed, tented against the shelves so firmly that his knuckles were white.

"This is... quite sufficient evidence... if you'd like to conclude the experiment."

"Do you want me to stop, Egon?"

He looked down to you, your gaze returned through your eyelashes as you blinked slowly.

"No. No. Absolutely not."

"Me either."

With a grin you kept going, fingers still wrapped tight around his cock, palm sliding against it as you pumped it rhythmically. You opened your mouth wide as you stroked, letting one of his balls rest on your tongue before you sucked it into your mouth, salivating at the taste of him, drool washing over his skin and dribbling down your chin as you hollowed your cheeks.

You let go with a pop, slurping as you released him from your lips, frothed drool spilling onto your chin as you tried to clean yourself up before diving back towards him, moaning as you jerked his cock and lapped at both balls now, futilely attempting to fit both of them in your mouth at the same time.

Instead, you let your tongue glide over them, flitting quickly from side to side as you tightened your grip on his length, only faltering with your speed when he stuttered out some words with a desperate, pleading tone.

"Ah... I think we have... sufficient evidence to... reach a... hmmm... conclusion..."

"Of course, Doctor Spengler. How would you like me to collect the results?"

A strangled laugh barked out of his throat, his eyes pressed tightly shut as he processed the words you had just said, so serious, so familiar, but so filthy.

"T-tongue... tongue, please..."

Still stroking his shaft, you picked up the speed and brought your other hand up to cup his balls, squeezing them firmly, easing up every now and then so he could feel the throb of pleasure as you tightened once more. Your mouth was open wide, a moan passing up and over your tongue which was laid out flat, ready for him.

It only took a few more seconds before his cum was painting your tongue, as well as the rest of your face. Thick, white ropes of his warm seed spattered on your skin, along your taste buds, a not unpleasant tang of salt lingering even after you swallowed what you had collected, still more of it dripping from the tip and onto your hand.

You stroked a few more times, until his body convulsed at your touch, and then you let go, standing up in front of him and wiping a drop of his cum from the corner of your mouth. He was unbalanced, his eyes half-lidded and hazy from the release, but he managed to speak through his lopsided smile.

"Wait until the scientific community hears about that."

[shrimsour]

plug a little traumatized but he chill

- Sword probably

The duo ever omg I love them sm

Might repost on daily medkit idk we'll see I'm kinda ashamed to post there bc it hasn't been daily for a LONG TIME now 😭

[arconinternet]

Zeta Minor (Zines, 1981/1982/1984)

You can read these Doctor Who fanzines here.

[tuliptired]

Ello! Hope Im not a bother, but i was hoping to make a one-shot request? I looked around and it looks like you are still taking requests as of the moment, very sorry if I missed something.

Anyways, if its not too much trouble, could you write Egon Spengler x Baker Y/N? I think that would be a fun dynamic!

If thats not to your liking, what about Egon x Shy Y/N?

Love your works, I check the ghostbusters tag daily to see if youve written anything new. Thank you so much, love ya have a great day and night!!!

How Sweet It Is (To be Loved by You)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Baker!GN!Reader

It's never too much trouble...no idea if I've used this gif before

did yall hear about the SNL biopic btw oh my gahh...

Better formatting on Ao3! (italics)

Your relationship started with a cupcake. As the story goes, told lovingly by your now mutual friends, there was a bust at a retirement home, and one of the caregivers insisted on sending the boys home with a treat in addition to the hefty bill. Demanded, actually, practically shoving a metal tin full of pastry into Egon’s hands as he attempted to discreetly sneak away.

“Jackpot,” Peter leaned over, happily surprised as nimble fingers opened the lid. The smell of sugary sweets wafted through the car, prompting Winston to extend his hand to the backseat, palm soon full of muffin. Egon was patient, letting everyone take something for themselves, before finally deciding on a blue-iced chocolate cupcake, sweet tooth waiting to be satisfied.

“Where’d this come from?” Ray, Peter, and Winston stood in the kitchen, confused at the spread of different colored boxes and containers. Upon further inspection, they were full of even more cupcakes, each the same blue iced chocolate flavor. Egon sat with his hands folded on the countertop, unfazed at their reactions to his display like any true man of science would be.

He made a tick mark on a long list of names, clipboard somewhere in the organized, delicious chaos. “If you must know, I’m testing every bakery in the area to find the one I ate that evening. I’ve yet to find it.”

Ray shrugged, taking note of just how many locations he had procured food from. “Not the weirdest thing you’ve done for a result,” he admitted.

“Good food’ll do that to you,” Winston laughed, Peter reaching over to gauge how mad Egon would get if he tried to take a sample from one of his possible matches.

Egon didn’t look up, flipping to the next page. “Go ahead, those are the rejects. They'd end up in the trash, anyway.”

Peter peeled away the paper, going through the motions of ripping the bottom of the cake and placing it over the top of the frosting. “Rejects.” he parroted plainly. “What’re you gonna do when you find the right store? Stand in the window?”

He glared up at him above his glasses. “No, I’ll buy a half dozen and go on with my day,” he unfolded a wax lined box, “so if you could leave me to my research?” Research being, going down a line of cupcakes. They each exchanged glances, before filing out. Egon could be just as tenacious as everyone else, when he felt like it.

Except, that tenacity wavered in the face of unfamiliarity. The only reason Egon was willing to go in your bakery to begin with is because the others had forced him. “Don’t be a baby,” as Venkman had put it. He finally found the match, in fact he had found it a few days ago. But he took a glance at the bustling establishment on the day in which he set out on his own, and got cold feet. Especially when he accidentally locked eyes with the smiling artisan while he just stood in the window.

His friends had managed to shove him towards the counter without a second thought. The same person he’d seen through the tall window was behind the counter now, greeting them all kindly. The bandana you had used to keep your hair in check must’ve been failing to do its job, evident by the flour near your temple, caught in a few strands. Egon’s fingers twitched.

Peter flicked him on the lower back when he failed to respond like a typical customer, making Egon come-to and clear his throat. “May I get a half dozen chocolate?” he asked robotically.

“You may,” you grinned at his grammar, “but, chocolate what?”

Egon’s ability to speak stopped short at his misstep, unable to let out anything but unintelligible stammers, and Egon never stammers. “Cupcakes, please,” Ray spoke up for him, catching wind.  

You nodded, moving to the display rack to place his order in a smaller, blue box. Peter wasn’t content with how smoothly this interaction was going as he watched on with a bored expression. “Funny story, actually,” he caught your attention through the framework.

You laughed at how it made him look like he was in a horizontal jail cell. “Yeah?”

Peter raised Egon’s stiff arm for him at the elbow. “We walk in one night and catch Egon with at least 20 different cupcakes, trying to find yours ‘cause he missed it so much.” he regaled.

He may have caught you blushing. Were you blushing? He shouldn’t stare at business owners when they were just trying to work. “Well,” you started folding the corners of the parcel, “assuming you liked them- and you guys are pretty important to the city…” You held them out to him with two hands. “Just take them. No charge.”

Egon felt like there was smoke rising from the top of his head, or the espresso machine, as he shuffled out, and you leaned over the counter to call after him: “Come back anytime, for whatever! On the house!” 

The rest happened slowly, but surely, and you enjoyed it thoroughly. On an earlier morning, you and your pubescent employee were handling the typical rush you got around breakfast. Between prepping, a small burn from the oven, packing orders, ringing people up, and a quick trip to the corner-grocery for more milk, you finally had a spare minute to breathe, both hands pressing into the counter.

A blur of beige and a trail of smog put an end to your mini-relaxation, and you hurried over to the door. “Stantz! Spengler!” you beckoned before they could turn the corner.

Like children, they found their way to your storefront, though Egon looked rather apprehensive with a used trap dangling from his gloved fist. “Good morning, guys,” you urged them inside, “did you eat yet?”

“We really should get going.” Egon said after Ray greeted you. Most of the sickly smell from the trap was left outside, and it was too covered up by the scent of sugar and warmth that everyone but you swore clung to the bakery for you to worry about it driving away customers.

You ignored his protests, crossing behind the counter. “Eat in the morning or you’ll crash in the afternoon,” you started pouring two cups of hot coffee.

“There’s no need-” you interrupted with a hand. “We’re fine,” he continued anyway.

Ray’s stomach betrayed his friend’s wishes. “Something small wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Listen to your friend, Egon.” you warned, adding a bit of whipped cream to both cups to literally sweeten the deal. “You need to eat.”

He frowned, but you didn’t care much. “We have a Class lll in our hands, now is hardly the time for-” you cut him off again, stuffing his mouth with a blueberry danish. As he annoyedly chewed, you procured a paper bag from the back, wrapping his hand around the handle.

“Too bad I already packed for everyone,” you patted his knuckles when he acquiesced, catching sight of what was inside with a small smile. “You’re crabby when you’re hungry.”

Egon opened his mouth to respond, but the contraption in his left hand started beeping. Are they supposed to beep? You’d never seen them do so before. It seemed as if the two experts themselves hadn’t either. 

You stood on your toes to give him a parting kiss, Ray grabbing both paper cups in the meantime before you could start shooing them out. “Go, go- don’t let that thing loose in here. And swing by later, okay?”

He followed your lips when you pulled away, but the ominous beeping drove him to the door and down the street. You sighed to yourself, already missing him. None of the regulars in your store seemed to pay any mind to the local celebrities- or the weapons they had strapped to themselves, as Egon floated in and out during different parts of his day at least once a week.

Egon knocked on the glass door, soft light and music slipping through as he got your attention. When you let him in, the distinct whiff of cookies enveloped him like the warm temperature of your little shop. It was his favorite part of visiting you, apart from actually getting to see you. “How was today?” he spoke over the soft jazz that you apologetically turned down.

“Better,” you were about to run a Crisco covered hand through the front of your hair before you stopped yourself, “better.” Egon only then noticed how many cookies you had managed to make for having only closed an hour ago. “I have more in the oven,” you said from the back wall with the smaller front oven while you hurriedly took out a hot tray with a mitt and put a cool one in.

It wasn’t just cookies, but brownies, sweetbreads, and cinnamon rolls. “Are you…restocking?”

You laughed, a quarter manically and another quarter incredulously, and started to peel cooked pastry off of baking sheets. “If anything, we have too much stock.” you paused your fervor, frowning at your display case’s abundance. “I’ll send you home with some- give them to your clients or eat them or something.” 

You were barely done shutting the sliding glass when you popped up, clapping your hands once and frankly startling him. “Pies! I know what I need to make now! I’ll make some pies and maybe a cake and we can head home.” Before you could disappear into the kitchen, he stepped in your way, two soothing hands on your shoulders.

“You’re stress baking.” 

Egon couldn’t hide his amusement at your familiar despondent expression, as if you were coming down from a high. “Was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” he stroked up and down your arm, steering you to the stool you kept tucked away behind the register and pulling up a chair for himself on the other side. “What’s wrong?”

He enjoyed the chairs you had because of their structural variety, and the fact they didn’t make him feel like a giant. 

You slumped your head into your since-dried hands, groaning out of frustration. “It’s just the season, I guess. A ton of people come by, bringing their dumb boyfriends-” you paused, realizing what you said, “no offense.”

“None taken.”

“-And they come looking at our stuff to see if we’re good enough for, like, baby showers and weddings and all that.”

A car passed by on the street, definitely above the city’s speed limit for a business area. “I assume that’s a good thing?”

“It’s great,” you sat up, “we want people to pick us. But it means everything has to look great, and we have to get ready for half a million custom orders.”

That would be a partial reason for the sudden uptick in inventory, combined with the pressure to make a good first impression. But you were working so aimlessly hard that you looked crazed, all by yourself. “Your employees aren’t willing to help?” Egon questioned.

You stood, addressing the heaps of different cookies, the only creation of yours without a home. “They are. But they’re kids- I can’t work them that hard. It’s probably illegal, too. They won’t be around for the next couple of days anyway.”

He could sympathize with your plight- backed into a seasonal corner that business owners just had to get used to. “I’m sorry,” Egon offered, “I’m not as skilled in your trade, but is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

You smiled your first genuine smile since he arrived. “There is, actually,” your tone was excited as you moved to the freezer, “just let me finish these and I’ll fill you in.”

Egon would’ve stopped you from continuing to try to work, but he relaxed when you brought out pre-prepared bags of icing and miscellaneous confectionaries, knowing that decoration was the more relaxing aspect of the art. 

He both sat in comfortable quiet as you put all your focus into icing, piping, and arranging.  It was pleasant, knowing that you had something so ardent that you cared so deeply about, even if it was dismissed as a mere hobby while you were close to collapsing to exhaustion in the bakery you financed on your own. It was a mix of career and craft- one of the many reasons he had grown to give you his utmost respect.

You were eventually done, making the task of embellishing countless treats look effortless. You handed him a cookie, which he gladly took. “I need you to be honest,” you counted on his affinity for sweets. He took a bite, surveying the dessert after the initial pleasure your baking always brought him.

“Raspberry compote,” Egon took a second, “and coffee icing.”

“Good job!” you scribbled something down on a spare slip of paper after springing the register drawer open. “Rating?”

“10/10”

“Honest.”

“That is my honesty. But if you wanted the unweighted scale, 7/10. The two flavors balance each other very well.”

You passed him another, which he promptly ate without being asked to. “On the crumbly side. Is that intentional?”

A nod. “A little less butter than usual. Old ladies tend to like those.”

He put a hand on his chin contemplatively. “6/10- marmalade. A softer version would get a higher placement, it would be a shame to lose interest from those who don’t fit the demographic.”

You copied down what he said, seemingly happy with any sort of feedback. “And here I thought I’d have to help you cross the street.”

The night went on like that for a while, and Egon grinned to himself at the parallels he had only just noticed- another mix of career and craft, now inquiry and indulgence. You looked like a proper scientist- or, a food scientist, scrawling down notes and numbers that he’s sure only you would be able to decode. He felt the corners of his face dimple in a familiar smile while he watched you- something he’d found himself doing much, much more.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of his joy.

“Nothing,” Egon excused himself, “you just look incredibly nice.”

 You squeezed the hand that he rested on the counter, silently appreciative. “Thanks- for that, and for helping me out. Let me get you home before you barf.”

He’d learned to live with the indecencies, helping you tidy up the best he could without breaching the system of organization you had. When you returned from the back with your personal things, he let you loop your arm around his for the semi-short journey home.

Egon only let you go so you could lock the door, and he stared at your back for the entire time that you did. “If I were having a baby shower, I’d come here.”

There were practically stars in your eyes. “Really?” 

“Really.” You planted a gratuitous kiss to the side of his face, before setting off towards his apartment.

Over the course of a few days, your boyfriend showed up earlier in order to take you into work, and keep you company as you tried to quell the impending anxiety. When regulars faded out and new faces came in- possible clients, you assured him with a non convincing tone that he had a job, too. If your ego was bigger, you’d be bragging about the compliments and inquiries your store got, not to mention the referrals to friends regarding special upcoming events. But, entrepreneurship had taught you to be humble, so you were resigned to spilling it all over a phone call to the firehouse.

One morning, you forced Egon out before anyone could arrive, asserting that he had a day off and he should find a way to relax. He asserted that this was how he relaxed, but you had a key to the front door and he didn’t, so that solved that. 

Not long after he was gone, you were hastily punching his number in, bouncing on your heels and out of breath.

“Hello?"

“Rich girl- eloping- needs a wedding cake- lots of money,” you forced out like you were out of air, already seeing dollar signs in tandem with the minutes you were losing. “But I have a crazy favor to ask.”

Very soon, “OPEN” was flipped to “CLOSED (sorry)” and you put on your serious business apron. Egon stood behind you, unsure of what to do as you jumped from here to there, double checking that you had absolutely everything you needed.

You only stopped when you realized that he wasn’t in the proper attire. “C’mon, Spengler,” you chastised him while cinching the strings of a smock around his waist.

“Game plan,” you led him to the back where all the industrial sized equipment was, “three tiers, green and pink, white cake. She gave me creative freedom, so I’m kinda flying blind.”

Egon’s eyes were on you as you laid out a few large bowls. “Have you ever…made a wedding cake on such short notice? I assumed they take days.”

“They do! And they’re the one thing I swore to never sell!” He looked disappointed in you, but you weren’t fazed, grabbing both of his hands. “$1,500,” Egon’s eyes widen as you continued, “think of what that could buy.”

He pushed up the bridge of his glasses like a flustered schoolboy. “That’s…a lot of copper wiring.”

“So many new mixers! And without the down payment! That’s why we need to start while we already have the time.”

Realistically, it was more of you starting everything while Egon was subjected to measuring or throwing away eggshells. But, you eventually gave him bigger responsibilities, as there was no way you’d be done in time for the impromptu-wedding if you worked one-by-one. 

You turned from what you were doing after instructing him to mix the batter for the top layer, being met with his bare forearms, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“What?” Egon noticed your commotion halting. “Am I overmixing?” 

You didn’t answer, still staring at his toned arms. He should help out more often- your stand mixer cutting out on you must’ve been a blessing in disguise. Your blatant ogling was cut short when he stopped his ministrations, resting the whisk against the lip of the bowl.

“Don’t get distracted.” He tried to sound condemnatory, but it was hard to feel scolded when the scholar had on one of your teenaged employee’s spare pink bibs around his front and he was almost bent over the edge of the counter space in the midst of his focus.

You could breathe a little easier when the timer went off for the tiniest layer’s completion in the biggest oven. You took the searing pan out carefully, and your worry spiked again when you saw how dark the unfrosted dessert was along the top. You went through a list of things that might’ve gone wrong-  was the oven at the right temperature? Setting? You definitely let it bake for the right time. It wasn’t until you saw a pair of little cylinders, tucked away in the havoc, that you put two and two together.

“Which one of these did you use?”

Egon looked like a mix of confused and concerned. “This one, baking soda.”

That’s how he got put out your kitchen for a considerable amount of time, until he knocked at the round window separating you both.

“Are you sorry?”

A pause. “Not anymore than I was 20 minutes ago.”

“I’m locking the door.”

He was allowed back in after a long and rehearsed apology. Soon, all tiers were baked, except for the base, and you were aching all over. The whole cake process never got any less demanding on you.

Egon must’ve seen how you stretched your arm across your chest before you tried to continue on anything. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’ll be fine- just sore.” you answered truthfully, before slightly jumping at the feeling of hands wrapping around your middle.

“Take a break,” he herded you to a folding chair you kept in there- the only chair. You were slotted in between his knees, thoroughly confused. He only got like this every blue moon.

It did feel great to be off your feet for a second, despite your cushy sneakers. “What’re you getting at?” 

His strong hands made work of your tense biceps. “Nothing lascivious. I just think you should save your energy for the important part,” you stifled a noise at his doctoral tone and the way his thumbs kneaded at the space in between your shoulder blades, “and you’ve been working very hard.”

“Baking makes you a freak,” you scoffed, but hedonistically let him continue to dote on you.

Soon it was time to keep moving, attractive masseuse or otherwise. You put Egon in charge of coloring the buttercream while you ran out to the store for the second time in only a few days, making a mental note to use some of the bride-to-be’s payment to keep a consistent supply of the little things.

When you returned, though, it wasn’t as you had expected. You picked up the metal bowl full of neon icing incredulously. “I said green, not snot!”

“I made green,” he didn’t budge, not seeing how gaudy this would look in the middle of a reception hall.

You pushed a finger in between his brows. “You’re such a guy,” you remarked, regardless of your own gender, as you hassled him out of the way. “Watch.” 

With a bit of red, the bright green dulled into a paler color, fit for a wedding. “Can I trust you with pink?” you asked as if he was a child.

Egon’s expression was unreadable. “No promises.”

Half of the green was shoveled into piping bags when he was finished, presenting the baby pink mixture to you like a project would be presented to a teacher. “That’s better,” you started, taking the bowl while he kept the spatula. You’d assumed that Egon was going to wash it or scrape off the excess or something, but your eyes squeezed shut as something cold and tacky hit your nose.

Frosting, pink frosting. His audacity. You took the green spatula, getting him back on the cheek. That led to him getting you back on the forehead, ear, chin, and eventually some strays ended up in the corner of your mouth, which he was more than happy to take care of. Baking really made him a freak, you thought. You probably shouldn’t be kissing over someone’s wedding memorabilia, but you shortly noticed that was the icing for each tier and its decoration. You lost an hour cleaning and starting from scratch on the buttercream, steering clear of each other in a respective corner each.

You had another hour to eat a late dinner while each tier chilled in the freezer, setting the white icing you painstakingly leveled to their surface area. When you returned, it was time for the assembly, the second most dreaded process. “I’m scared,” you confessed, just about to push down the first dowel.

Egon got eye level with the top, squinting. “You’re just about perfect.”

Your nerves got the better of you. “How can you tell?” 

“I calculated.”

He was to keep calculating until all three cakes were secure on each other, bringing on the actually grueling part: decoration. You could design anything easily, after years of practice on your skills and ability to freehand- but a wedding cake was just so intimidating. That was part of the reason you vowed to never try again, how easy failure was staring you down in the form of little white fondant flowers. Egon let you take the reins on this, disappearing from your narrow field of vision. You honed in your knowledge of swirls, mini roses, and the drape style that was still in fashion among traditional couples. You were bent in all sorts of ways to make sure every bit of sugar that left the tip of the plastic bag came out perfect, for a perfect pair of newlyweds. Or newlyweds with perfect pocketbooks.

Time got away from you when the final detail was placed, and you stepped away like it was a bomb. “Is it done? Are we done?” you looked for confirmation. “How does it look?”

Egon’s torso stopped you from running off somewhere. “It looks perfect.”

The giant thing was stowed away to wait until you were scheduled to drop it off the next morning, and a weight was taken off your chest. You let the faucet run over materials, mind somewhere else with the rush of running water.

“It’s so sweet when it’s all done,” you spoke up, scrubbing crusted batter off of a tin, “weddings feel so magical.” 

You thought back to the agreement you made with your boyfriend of a handful of years: nix a big ceremony, celebrate with friends when the time felt right. The time always felt right to you; you’d drag him to the courthouse at the drop of a hat. Perhaps there was an even right-er time out there, written somewhere in your future.

Egon wiped down all the surfaces. “I agree.” he voiced from across the counter, taking a pause. “You’re not…angry with me? For taking as long as I am?”

You laughed at that, drying your hands. You crossed over to him, a hand on his chest. “Not at all. I trust you.” He had ditched the tie at some point after you had to make a new batch of icing. “If you’re offering…”

“Give me some more time to make it special.”

You brushed away some of his hair that had come loose in the heat of your scullery. “How much more time?” your voice was soft.

Egon thought about it for a moment. “What’s 5 more years?” He laughed heartily at the groan you let out, resting his head on yours.

“Really?” your voice broke over the phone. “I’m sorry…I’ve never- I don’t know,” you forced yourself to take a shallow breath, “I’ll work on getting your deposit back.”

You didn’t know what to think or feel when you ended the call, but thoughts of wasted hours, materials, lost profit, all flooded your mind as you attempted to calm yourself. You rested your head underneath where the phone was mounted on the wall, rubbing at your temples to sedate an oncoming headache.

“What happened?” Egon asked at your back, with you again in the early morning as he scored another day off. You didn’t turn to face him, trying your best to blink back embarrassing tears.

“She canceled. We made the cake for nothing- there’s no wedding, I-” 

Egon was on a knee, in the middle of your homely bakery. Your frustration evolved into pure confusion. “What’re you-”

There was a blue, velvet box in his hands with a glinting band inside of it. Before he could get a word out, you were on the floor too, tears free flowing. “You can’t do this now,” you clutched the fabric of his pants when he moved to hold you. “I look horrible.”

His free hand dried your tears, though more would keep on appearing in their wake. “I’m sorry this is so overdue.”

Your hands gently held onto his jaw to know this was real. “When was the right time?” 

“A long, long time ago. I just needed to find a way to make it special.” He looked hesitant before continuing, “I hope you don’t mind having made your own wedding cake.”

You blinked. “You’re the worst!” you joked exasperatedly, falling with him into a hug on the floors you were happy you mopped. “That was all you?”

“Why do you suppose her down payment was a multiple of 18?”

“They didn’t.” 

“Consider it a group gift, I suppose.” Egon smiled underneath you. You sat in the giddy silence of two people, soon to be wed, when he gingerly asked the question

“Will you?”

Your boyfriend- fiancé, went through so much trouble to make the moment one you could look back on happily. Who could refuse?

“I will.”

[auroracalisto]

oh god, i want to feel again

xavier plympton x reader, 3.3k words summary: the reader is the one of the two survivors from their little friend group along with brooke. all alone with a set of friends who are only around her for "status," she finds herself back at camp redwood. a/n: a complete rewrite of this fic from 2021. the fandom may be dead but I adored this fic when I initially wrote it. it deserves 23-year-old aurora's edits. some elements are the same but... it's clear that I have either grown as a writer or something has happened to the original writer within me (perhaps too many bouts of bridgerton and romance-esque things but let's not get into that) tw: death, mentions of dead bodies, suicidal thoughts, implied depression and anxiety, mentions of god and jesus christ but like not positively used (ones in an instance of finding a dead body YAY).

For someone who claimed they were terrified of the very place your old friend group died, you sure as hell didn't seem like it. At least, not on the outside. Brooke would have been trembling on the spot, but not you. No, you felt almost... well, not terrified, but worried.

You should have never let them talk you into coming back to Camp Redwood. How utterly foolish. Things always went wrong in this godforsaken camp, and it was nothing new to you. You knew it. Just the essence of the forest around it sent shivers down your spine.

And yet, here you were. The three you stood near fawned over the scenery. It was beautiful, yes, and it was just as beautiful as it had been when you had last been there. It hadn't changed a bit. But there was something gnawing inside of you. This place made you more nervous than you would like to admit.

Just thinking about it—about everything that had happened. It made you want to cry.

But the trio you had become a fourth wheel for said that they would be quick. They just wanted to take a look around, maybe check out the cabins.

You knew better. Coming back to Camp Redwood would lead to disaster. Coming back to the damned place was a death wish—and your past self, the one from just a few years ago, even, would have hit you for being so stupid to come back.

There was something about the camp that drew you in. As if there was something within your soul that knew it needed to be there. How foolish.

It had only taken an hour for your "friends" to leave your side, but you weren't surprised. They had never been truly good friends. In fact, the closest one to you, Nellie, had said that the other two were only friends with you for publicity. Sheryl and Junie didn't really care about you other than for some popularity points in LA's scene.

Being the only other survivor besides Brooke, you were like a little legend in your town.

It hadn't been Brooke. But it was your word against everything.

God, you missed her. She had been a good friend for the short time you knew her. All of your friends had been, in one way or another.

Chet knew how to get you fired up when it mattered most. Ray was earnest and always lended a helping hand. Montana knew exactly how to dress for any kind of scenario, and all of the little beauty tips she had given you made you feel like she truly cared about you. And Xavier. Oh, God, did you miss Xavier.

There wasn't a day that went by that you didn't think of the blonde jazzercise instructor.

It hurt your heart to know that he was gone. Forever. There was no coming back from what took him so long ago. And for what? For your "friends" to get excited over? For the crime fanatics to fantasize over? It was despicable. Deplorable, even.

On your way up to the camp, despite the urge within you to make them drop you off and you'd just walk home, you heard Sheryl talk about the Night Stalker. How handsome and ridiculously attractive he was. How she would let him have her in whatever way possible.

It made you sick to even think about it. Perhaps you should have made them drop you off and pick you up later. It would have been so much easier that way.

Maybe then you wouldn't have felt so sick to your stomach.

But here you were. It was 1987—three years after the massacre of your friends, and three years after you barely made it out alive. Half-alive, anyway. You were barely living, just going through the motions of what it meant to eat, breathe, and sleep. Even then you hardly did well at it.

You found yourself sitting on the edge of that oh-so-familiar dock, staring out at the lake. The water was dark and murky—not how you remembered. It had been so beautiful before, but perhaps that was how the world worked. As the years grew long and the soil grew spoiled, things changed. It had been quite some time since you last looked out to the water.

What else happened here?

You took in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut.

You just wanted to leave. That was the first thing that came to mind. The second was, What the actual fuck was that?

Something brushed against your foot.

Your heart leapt to your throat and you quickly scrambled to your feet, suppressing a scream. You looked down at the water and saw a bloated body. A human body.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," left your chapped lips. The body had obviously been in the water for some time.

You took a couple steps back, your hands gripping at the edge of your shirt as you tried to ground yourself.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you breathed out, burying your face in your hands for just a moment.

As you looked up, you saw it—a flash of two blonde heads in the corner of your eye, standing by one of the decaying cabins.

The girls weren't blonde. Nellie was a brunette, Sheryl had unnaturally red hair that she claimed was natural, and Junie's hair was black.

You blinked slowly and almost thought, for just a moment, that perhaps you had truly lost it. Perhaps you were truly crazy and the fumes of the decaying body were getting to you—but then, you saw it.

That outfit.

The blues and whites and that signature coat.

Were you dreaming?

You didn't know. Even so, you found your feet moving before you could even think to stop them. In a matter of seconds, you were running. Through the mud, through the roots that sprung up from the cold ground. You nearly tripped a time or two as the cold air burned your lungs. You ran through the tree limbs that continued to snag your shirt and skin. However, you didn't stop. You didn't care. If that was who you thought it was, it didn't matter if you hurt yourself or scratched up your outfit.

It was okay.

It would be worth it.

You reached the area you had thought you saw him—the girls' cabin. It had to have been. That's where you had hung out during the short time you were at the camp.

The sight of the log building made you sick to your stomach. This whole thing made you sick.

If only you had listened to your gut feeling and passed up on the invite, then you wouldn't be standing here, questioning your sanity.

This was stupid. This was freakish, and your therapist would give you an earful when you returned to your sessions. You knew it.

But then, you heard a voice.

"Y/n?"

You didn't move for a moment, just registering the voice. It wasn't just any voice—it was Xavier's voice.

He's dead. It's not him. You're going insane, you thought, but you spun around anyway. Your eyes were wide.

You saw him standing there, all alone. He gave you an incredulous look before he rushed forward, his arms wrapping tightly around you. One of his hands rested on the back of your head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you—one he hadn't had for some time.

"What—what is—" you breathed out, your arms quickly wrapping around his body. "What the hell? You're dead," you said, tears forming in your eyes almost immediately. You buried your face in his chest. He's dead. He has to be. But he feels so very real, and it confuses you to no avail. "Xavier, you're supposed to be dead. Why are you here?"

Xavier chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing some of your hair away from your face so he could get a good look at you.

"You're smart, Y/n," he softly said. "Tell me why I'm still here."

"Ghost?" was the only thing you said.

He smiled at you. "God, I never thought I'd see you again. Why are you here?"

"My... my friends—"

You were interrupted, a scream erupting through the trees. Birds flew into the blue sky, spooked by the shrill noise.

You slightly pulled back, hands gripping onto Xavier. You didn't want to let go of him.

"My friends brought me here," you said, looking over your shoulder.

Xavier rose an eyebrow.

"What's going on?" you asked, looking up at him once more. You paid no mind to the scream—a part of you didn't care what happened, as awful as that sounded. The other part of you ached to go and help them, but you couldn't. Xavier was standing in front of you.

He was here. You couldn't let that go.

"What do you mean?" he asked, a playful smile on his lips.

"How are you—how are you here? You're a ghost, sure, but..."

He continued to smile, watching you with an unreadable expression. "Yes."

"That's... that doesn't help me," you huffed, noticing a smear of blood on his cheek. You reached forward, your thumb rubbing it off. You frowned up at him. "How the hell are you still here?"

"I don't know," he finally admitted. "None of us know. We're all here. Well... save for you and Brooke."

You blinked, furrowing your eyebrows. "You... what? You're all still here?"

The question chokes you up, and your tears are instant. "Xavier, I—I never thought I'd see you again. and you're—everyone is still here? Really?"

"You're taking this pretty well," Xavier said, snorting softly. He leaned forward, unable to keep his lips off of your skin. He presses a soft kiss to your lips. He'd missed you dearly, if you'd bother to ask.

"I watched all of you die," you breathed out. "I thought you were all gone. But you—you're not gone. You're still here."

Xavier watched you with his pretty blue eyes. "I really never expected to see you again," he said, giving you another tight hug. "Why did you come with them?"

"Um," you said, frowning a bit. "Closure?" You posed your answer as a question. "A chance to... to come to peace with what happened?"

"You sure as hell aren't getting that," he said, letting out a laugh. His lips found their way to your forehead.

You let your eyes shut. "It's only been three years, X," you said. "I've lived... three hell-filled years without you guys. I miss you so much."

You swallowed thickly, completely pulling away from him. You shakily wiped your tears away. "I... Brooke was sentenced. They are convinced she did it. Said there was plenty of evidence pointing to her, but I—I was there too. I don't understand why I didn't—why they didn't blame me," you rambled.

Xavier pursed his lips and he gently took your hands into his. "It's okay. It's not your fault. You know how the justice system is," he said, snorting softly. "It's not like it's a diamond in the rough. It's tough out there."

Your bottom lip quivered as you looked up at him. "Xavier..."

He smiled softly at you. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"I... I missed you. I miss you. I miss you guys so much, Xavier. You have no idea."

"Do you think that's why you came?" he asked, looking down at you. "To... be closer?"

Your eyes widened a bit. You hadn't thought of it like that. But maybe, subconsciously, that's what was happening. Your mind knew that it was a way to be closer to your friends. You never expected that you would literally get closer to them, in every way possible.

"You make a good point," you said, sniffling softly.

Xavier grinned, leaning forward to cup your cheeks. "You look hot for a twenty-six-year-old," he said.

You slapped his hand away, and warmth flooded to your cheeks. "It's been three years, not a fucking decade!"

His smile only grew. "You do, though."

You rubbed your nose with the back of your hand, sniffling softly. "You... Xav, it's only been three years," you repeated. "I never thought I'd see you again. I can't believe you're here. I... it's so hard to live without you. I never imagined I'd have to do it."

His smile vanished, replaced with a frown. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead again. You closed your eyes as his lips lingered.

"I know," he said. "But you can't stay here. There's nothing here that would support someone who's alive. You need to go back home, get back to your life."

A snort escaped you. "I don't have a life," you said. "I work. I go home. I sometimes have therapy which doesn't fucking work. I try to ignore the people who brought me here but they leave so many messages on my answering machine sometimes that I want to actually—"

A voice interrupts you, and it's obvious that the speaker is relieved.

"Oh, thank god. They're not your friends?"

Your eyes widened and you quickly spun around, seeing the blood-covered Montana. You could hardly breathe as you let go of Xavier, rushing over to the woman. You wrapped your arms around Montana as tightly as you possibly could.

"Oh my god," you breathed, tears forming in your eyes once more. You silently cursed yourself for the constant waterworks, but the camp seemed to just... draw it out of you. This entire situation was nuts.

"Uh, definitely not God," Montana laughed, hugging you back. "God, Y/n, why the hell are you here? You look hot."

"Hey, back off!" Xavier scoffed. "I already told her that."

Montana just smiled, pulling back. Your clothes were now bloody, but you didn't even look. You shakily wiped your tears away.

"I just... I can't believe you are actually here. Are you sure I'm not crazy? Am I dreaming? Pinch me," you said, holding your arm out to Montana.

She snorted and pinched you, hard. It left a mark.

Xavier smiled and reached forward, grabbing your bicep. "We're here, Y/n. No dreaming for you."

You lost track of time.

When you finally looked out of the dusty cabin window, the moon was peaked high in the sky.

With a slow blink, you looked over at your friends, not really knowing what to say. You didn't want to leave them, again. You couldn't. Not when you now know that they've been here this whole time while you've been grieving their deaths. Not when Xavier has been here.

You reached forward and took Xavier's hand, dragging him out of his conversation with Chet. Chet didn't seem too mad about it, though, and he just grinned at you before going to talk to Ray.

"Can we talk? Outside?"

Xavier smiled at you and simply nodded. He stood up and pulled you to your feet, leading you outside of the cabin. You stood on the edge of the cabin steps. Xavier leaned against the railing and you slowly sat down on the steps.

"Xavier... I can't... leave. I can't leave you guys. Not again."

"What?"

"I've got nothing out there for me, Xavier. I can't leave—"

"—absolutely not. I know what you want. You're not doing that. No way in hell. You're the only one of us who survived, and you need to keep on living, Y/n."

"I only survived because you guys all died before I escaped," you said, your bottom lip quivering. "Final girl trope my ass. Xavier, I can't function without you guys. I can't—I can't do anything without thinking about all of you."

"You will, eventually," Xavier said, sending you a soft smile. He leaned forward and took your hands in his again. "You're strong. You'll be able to."

"When, X?" you questioned. "When I've reached my eightieth birthday?"

He snickered softly and kissed your cheek. "That's bullshit and you know it. You'll be okay. You need to go home, Y/n. You know that we're here. You can visit any time you want to. Stay alive, for me."

"But I—I'll continue to age," you said. "And you'll stay here, exactly the same."

Xavier grinned. "Well, you continue to age for the fuckers who can't. Get a pretty spouse. Make some pretty babies. Come and see us when you have the time."

He was trying to talk you out of it. He didn't want you dead. Hell, if you had died when everything first happened, it would be different. But you were alive. You had so much to live for. He had protected you until his last breath, and he would do it again if he could. Even if it meant sending you away, no matter how much he would have rather had you there.

"I'll continue to age, X. But I'm not ever gonna marry. And I won't ever have kids. Don't lie to yourself."

"Why not?" Xavier asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched you.

"Because the one person I wanted that with is here. Not aging. Dead. A ghost. For fucks sake, Xavier."

He stopped for just a moment, letting go of your hands. "What?" he asked, tilting his head. "Who?"

"What?" you repeated. "You, Xavier," you said. "I didn't want to come back here because I was afraid I'd find your things. Your jacket. Your—your clothes you left in your duffle bag. I didn't want to come back and see the things that you had. I didn't expect—I didn't expect your whole damn ghost. I don't—I don't want to age. I don't want to go and get married and have pretty babies. I wanted to marry you," you said, choking back a sob. "I wanted to date you more. I wanted to fall in love with you even more than I already loved you. You dying made me realize that I would never have that. That I would never love anyone as much as I loved you, Xavier. As much as I still love you."

Xavier didn't say a word, watching you intently.

"I've mourned you every damn day. I—I've wondered, why in the hell did this happen? Why couldn't I have just died with you? And I nearly did it. Several times, Xavier. I would have done it again. After today. If I came here and saw that you... you still had things here. If I saw something that seemed like you or your blood or that damned oven, I—I would have done it."

Xavier quickly took your hands again. "Stop it. Stop talking like that."

"And see? You can't even say it! I've loved—I've mourned you for so long," you said, letting out a soft sob. "You've stared a tee this whole time and said noth—"

You were cut off by cold lips pressing against yours. But just as soon as you had been interrupted, you started kissing him back. You were still crying, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks—all of your pent-up exhaustion and rage releasing with your tears.

Xavier slightly pulled back and let his head press against yours. "I love you, too, Y/n. More than anything."

You squeezed your eyes shut. Xavier leaned forward and wiped your falling tears away.

"The... the only way you can stay here is if... if you die."

You took in a deep breath, looking up at him. You locked eyes with his, not wanting to look away. "I'll do anything I have to. I just can't leave you. Not again. I won't do it."

Xavier sadly smiled, and the ghost felt his own tears begin to form. "Alright, then," he softly said. "I won't stop you." He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. He was getting what he wanted, even it it felt pretty bittersweet. "How do you... how do you wanna go, baby? It's your choice."

You thought for just a moment. You had thought this out many times before. You looked up at him, and your answer fell from your lips.

"I..."

[valandrawrites]

Mid-Year Fic Recs - June 2025

In celebration of Pride, I thought I'd put together a mid-year fic rec list. Ya'll seemed to like my end of 2024 one, and there are SO many good fics coming out right now, it would be criminal for me not to share them. I didn't include any of my own, though you should totally go read them all :) https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValandraWrites/

Now, in no particular order.

Exodus 3:2 by stayawake

Dean’s twenty-two, but he’s already resigned himself to spending the rest of his life in his hometown. Going to church, working at Bobby’s shop, taking care of his dad. His dad, who is convinced demons are after them all.

And then a new priest rolls into town in a broken-down pickup truck.

A Sorcery of Starlight by MalMuses

After uncovering a salacious scandal with a stableboy, Dean Winchester’s father declares he must marry or be sent to an asylum. Dean has always been a good son and heir, but the thought of a loveless marriage is too much; he runs away to hide as a servant.

The handsome, intense Lord Castiel Shurley, nephew to the cruel Earl, evokes in Dean a magnetic attraction he struggles to deny. But, between Dean’s hidden identity and a curse that may be far more than local legend, the path to happiness seems dim and twisted.

Huckleberry Baby by rideswraptors

Dean could tell you exactly how he came to be an enforcer for a long standing prison gang called the Alphas. Each tick of the timeline was bold and distinct. With his mother dead and his dad locked up, he had spent all of his time trying to take care of his baby brother. Crime was the only method he'd been given.

Not Safe for Work by Salamitsunami1

Castiel’s life is pretty well on-track for someone who’s just turned thirty, if he does say so himself — he’s got a great job at the university, he’s just finished his master’s degree, and he has it on good authority that he’s going to be accepted for his PhD next year. Things go slightly awry when he wakes up one morning with a neck so sore and so stiff that he can’t move his head. He’s not sure how he obtained a musculoskeletal injury while writing his thesis, but he is sure that the physiotherapist who will be treating the injury is quite literally the most attractive man he’s ever seen in his life. It only gets worse when Dean turns up as a tutor at the university, which, incidentally, he does at the same time that Castiel receives an unsolicited nude from an unknown number.

Ouroboros by Susu_st

Something had followed him back from the forest.

It stalked Castiel as he left the bar. The solitary whiskey he drank, an astringent phantom on his tongue, did nothing to dull his senses. He hunted mindless flesh-eaters and monsters that believed themselves human—he knew the difference: when something was there, when something wasn’t.

Smoke and Mirrors by Alaisabel

As a kid, Dean’s dreams were pretty straightforward: food, a roof over his head, and maybe – if he really let himself dream big – a family that wouldn’t kick him out the second he became more trouble than he was worth. College? Not on his radar. Suddenly he’s here, though – on a football scholarship and faced with the possibility that this time he might get to stay.

A game of Truth or Dare sends him face-first into the arms of Castiel Novak. Senior. Resident (ex-)drug dealer. Obnoxious literature major. Heavily tattooed and everything Dean is trying to leave behind.

Tracking - - - by entropic_saudade

Dean went on a hunt, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.

When Dad shows up at Stanford, asking for help in finding Dean, Sam has no choice but to go. His search leads to a cache of VHS tapes that Dean left behind, documenting his recent hunts. Each case is more bizarre than the last, but one thing is clear: Dean thought he was tracking something big, but something had been tracking him back.

Looking Back, Fundamental Romance by Susu_st

The ads in every corner of your vision, the ultra-processed food that doesn’t satiate, the attention spans fried by algorithms, the normalised violence—it’s called brain pollution. And to it, you are helpless. Luckily, there’s a cure. And it comes in the form of a handy little pill.

OR emotionless!Cas AU

Sugar pie, honey bunch by zation

Dean is a professional sugar baby and is very happy living off what his four Daddies give him and never wanting anything more, thank you very much. Meanwhile, Castiel only ever aspires to be the best.

Or,

The one where Dean experiences firsthand what a diff’rence a week makes.

Enjoy! Let me know what you think if you read any of these. There were so many to choose from, I definitely could have made this list twice as long.

@stayawakes, @malmuses, @medicatedmaniac, @salamitsunami1, @zationao3, @akaalaisabel

[bella-goths-wife]

“Meet the family”

Ghostbusters x reader

Warnings: illusions to suicide, reader is dead, strange mother daughter relationship, implied dysfunctional family

Egon has a very carefully planned out Monday, he has a rigid routine that few people he allows to disrupt.

First he wakes up and has his usual hearty breakfast of eggs and some kind of meat, unless he’s had Chinese takeout the night before, in which case he’ll eat the leftovers. Next he quizzes himself with some brain challenging puzzles to keep his brain functioning and active.

After that he’ll arrive at the ghostbusters headquarters at exacting 8:15AM, go on a few jobs, usually around three which will take him to 9PM. At that time he will head down to his lab, do a few experiments before fruitlessly trying to communicate with your spiritual being.

Yes, Egon Spengler rarely let anyone disrupt his perfectly planned out Monday morning routine.

But this strange woman waiting outside ghostbusters headquarters certainly managed to disrupt it, especially when she claimed to be your mother.

———————————————————————-

Egon wasn’t sure what to make of your mother as he offered her a seat at the desk.

She didn’t look like you, from the rare photo he found of you or your ghostly apparition. While your mother was a stubby little woman with a pinched sour expression and a penchant for scowling, your face was like a fox’s with how your smile perked up on your lips and your eyes held a unique light to them.

“Landlord said her boyfriend picked up her stuff” your mother said with a grim look as she pulled out one of her cigarettes, not the elegant kind that most ladies these days used, but the musky smelling ones that usually accompanied established gentlemen in the drawing rooms of their expensive homes “said you took all of it home”

“Yes ma’am” Egon says with a cautious nod as he tried to analyse how this conversation would go “I didn’t realise her family wanted it”

“So you assumed” your mother said quickly with a slight scoff “you couldn’t have called first?”

Egon is taken aback by the woman’s words as his eyes narrowed, wondering what this woman’s intentions were.

“With all due respect ma’am” Egon started as your mother smoked her cigarette “her things had been in storage for well over a month, I assumed she didn’t have any family”

The woman stilled slightly before puffing out smoke with an almost empty expression. This wasn’t a woman who looked like she was wracked with grief, nor did she look like she was happy with the circumstances. The woman just looked vague, with no discernible emotion behind her well put together look and her unmoving mountain of makeup purposely put on to hide the effects that aging had on her body.

“She had something of mine within her belongings, a small locket that was my mothers” your mother spoke stiffly with a tense look as she smoked “I’d hoped she’d give it to her children one day, though I don’t suppose that’s happening anymore”

The brief opening of a vulnerable side was shown like a fast moving slideshow, and Egon knew he’d have to work fast to get anything more out of her.

“Was she your only child?” Egon asked calmly, an analysing look in his eyes as he tried to spot weakness

“Her father had a few more somewhere along the line, but she was the only one in wedlock” the woman sniffed in an almost disgusted manner “rightly so that she was the best one out of the bunch”

“I see” Egon says with a taken aback expression, he’s about to speak again but he’s quickly cut off

“Can you bring her stuff out here” the woman asks almost impatiently “I want to find my locket”

Egon nods with a sigh, this woman wouldn’t get him anywhere in finding out more about you. All she was after was her own little material items.

———————————————————————-

The woman shuffled through the boxes that Egon had brought out, hands working almost softly as she grazed them over your various items.

Egon had expected her to treat your items roughly in an attempt to salvage her lost locket, but the way your mother went through your things was almost ritualistic.

She skimmed her fingers over the letters of each of your various awards, reading each one slowly and carefully as if recreating the memory within her mind.

“What was she like?” Egon asked to cut through the tense silence, breaking your mother out her trance as she let go of your awards “when she was younger”

Your mother lets herself think for a moment, almost having to use a considerable amount of effort into making sure she phrased it right

“She was a fidgety child, never stayed in one place for too long” the woman speaks in a hushed tone “her teachers said it was due to her being unchallenged for her intellectual level, that everyday living bored her”

Egon nods thoughtfully as the woman speaks, looking through the various boxes for her locket. Taking in as much information as possible

“She excelled in everything she did, with some pushing from her father and I” the woman explains with a melancholy look “she had the same problem as me really”

“What’s that?” Egon asks curiously as he helped the woman search

“She was born knowing too much” the woman says with a heavy sigh “ignorance can help people escape the dreary aspects of life, she wasn’t able to do that so she’d cause trouble instead”

In that moment, realisation dawned upon Egon. All your mischievous actions and your games weren’t out of malice but out of boredom, at least before them trapping you it was.

You were intellectually stuck in life and in death with no real challenges to cure your eternal boredom, that’s why the ghostbusters attention had been such a respite for you.

And they had punished you for it the moment you had made a mistake.

“I heard from the landlord that she died quickly” your mother spoke quietly as she held onto a prize ribbon for a highschool chess tournament “she was always in such a rush to reach the next goal”

There was a considerable silence that hung heavy in the air as Egon tried to digest her words, to understand them.

The silence ended as the woman’s fake nails tapped against the metal of the newly retrieved locket that laid in her hands, the fine metal work and the small encrusted jewel showing Its extraordinary value.

The woman clutched the locket close to her heart before placing it around her neck, putting it in the same position as you wore it in so many of your photos.

“I brought something” the woman said almost hesitantly as her hand disappeared into her purse before pulling out a small, old stuffed bunny toy “I found it in her old room, I wanted to give it to her but I’m not sure where her remains are”

Egon inspected the bunny toy in his hands and looked at the pure white fur as if it was another piece of the puzzle slotting itself together

“She’s had since she was a baby, it was the only thing that calmed her down from crying” the woman said with a far away look in her eyes “please make sure it’s put with her grave”

“I will” Egon says with a sympathetic look and a quick nod

The woman gets up to take her leave, leaving behind the rest of your belongings. She turns to look at Egon one more time as her mouth opens hesitantly

“My daughter was brilliant in every way” she admits quietly “I think that’s what drove her too it in the end”

And with that the woman left Egon alone with thousands of thoughts swimming in his head.

———————————————————————

You had trashed his lab again that evening, out of anger.

You had seen your mother enter the building but the cowardly part of you that was still human refused to go into the room where she talked with Egon.

Instead all of your resentment was taken out on egons lab equipment, at least the stuff he hadn’t moved out of it to avoid your wrath.

Egon only sighed when he saw your mess, knowing you were in the room only by the temperature drop alone.

Usually he would fit a scolding into his tight fit schedule, but not tonight.

You observed him and his distracted state before watching as he placed something on the slab in the middle of his lab.

Your eyes zero in on the bunny and a flurry of emotions spin around your head like a tornado and you swore that if you’d had a heart still it would be beating out of your chest.

Egon observed motionlessly as your translucent figure became visible and slowly clutched the bunny toy, similar to how your mother had with the locket.

Egon spun around and walked out the room, deciding to give you some well earned privacy. He decided it was time he looked through the rest of your things

Time to figure out exactly who the little ghost the ghostbusters had caught was.

[fivelawrence]

WHY AM I KINDA PROUD? Ok so, this is a collage for my story, called 33 years later. Set in an alternate universe of Cobra Kai where Johnny won the tournament and Cobra Kai never closed.

[nightmare-niko]

yall want Evan Peter fanfictions too cuz I can provide‼️ any character from AHS or anything he’s played I love that man sm

[green-fifteen]

Splash

tags: crossover, mermaid AU, stobin, not!fic

word count: 1,218

Splash used to be my favorite movie growing up. It didn't age super well, but the idea of a stobin Splash AU made me laugh so here we are.

written for @stobinmonth prompt: crossover

One day Robin is biking peacefully near the pier after class. She moved to some East Coast city for college and every day she gets to ride home just inches from the sea.

When she gets to her apartment, she realizes she doesn't have her wallet-- it's just gone. She must have dropped it somewhere.

On her ride to class the next day, she sees a man sitting on the low seawall, watching people go by. He spots her and jumps into motion, waving her down with urgency. And-- is that her wallet? She pulls over to talk to him.

That's the plan, anyway. But when she gets closer to him, he just grins at her and holds out her wallet, the leather stained and softened by seawater.

"Thanks," she says after she's flipped through it and found everything inside just as she left it. ID, cash, memberships. "I was worried I'd have to get a new library card and I'm terrified of the campus librarian, so. You saved my ass."

This guy is wearing bright yellow swim trunks that look at least three sizes too big, cinched tight at the waist with the string. He just keeps smiling at her, like she's the best thing he's ever seen. It sort of reminds her of a puppy. Or a really happy goldfish.

"So…" she wants to just get back on her bike and ride to English, but she's too polite for that. "What's your name?"

He still says nothing, just moves his head to stare out at the water. Robins decides she's tried hard enough.

"I guess I'll see you around," she tells him, and pedals away as quickly as she can.

She doesn't expect to see him again, but she's proven wrong only the next day. He's out waiting for her, same yellow shorts and no shirt. Same wide, pleased grin when he spots her. He waves and waves and she grudgingly squeezes the brakes.

She parks her bike and somehow, they fall into step together, walking through the little seaside market she's always been too busy to stop and peruse. She makes conversation with him the best she can, even while repeatedly wondering what the hell she's doing hanging out with this guy?? There's just, she doesn't know. Something about him. Something out of place that almost feels like looking into a mirror.

So she goes on and on without stopping because it's not like he'll tell her to shut up and it actually feels pretty good to just talk and have somebody listen. Somebody who tilts their head toward the sound of her voice like they just really like hearing it.

Her pleasure is dampened just a tiny bit when she realizes he almost certainly has no idea what she's saying. But only for a moment, because she quickly decides that this freaky man is going to become her next project.

Robin, who is a linguist and has no friends, drags this man with her to the library, to a cafe, to the little shack for renting inner tubes, and makes him listen to everyone they meet. She encourages him to try talking to them, to answer simple questions, but the first time she hears his voice is after two weeks of meeting up on the pier, when they're alone with their ice cream and the wind is picking up. He's still wearing his stupid, salt-crusted trunks.

As Robin is picking wind-swept hair out of her mouth for the fourth time since they started eating, Steve reaches over to tug at a few strands. "What is this?" he asks, in an uncertain voice.

She stares at him and swallows her mouthful of ice cream. "It's my hair. Hair! It is hair." She enunciates and he nods thoughtfully. He puts a hand on his own hair, which looks unfairly shiny and healthy for a person who spends as much time on the beach as he seems to. She finds it funny how often she catches him admiring it in mirrors and windows, but she can't really blame him.

"Hair." He repeats. He points to his own chest, then to his head. "Hair."

When she doesn't get it, he huffs and points at Robin. "Robin," he says. Pointing at himself, he says, "Hair."

She wrinkles her nose. She says, "You are… Hair?" and he smiles so wide she can see all of his teeth. If one or two are a little pointier than anyone would expect, she doesn't especially notice.

She keeps it in mind when they're back at the library one day, braving the front desk and the head librarian. She brought him a shirt and a pair of sandals to borrow while they're in the building because she wasn't kidding about the woman being scary.

"My friend is staying with me," she lies, stepping up bravely when the librarian gestures for them. "Can he use my address for a library card?"

The woman glances up and seems to freeze as her eyes fall on Steve. He's wearing a kind of stupid expression, gazing around the building like he's trying to memorize it, but Mrs. Finman is transfixed.

"Of course," she says. Robin is mortified to see the woman's cheeks go a deep shade of red. "What's your name, young man?"

Robin quickly answers for him. She decided before they came that 'Hair' was absolutely not going to be the name on his library card. She toyed with 'Harry,' but decided it didn't fit him. She never did get around to picking a name, though, so she casts her eyes around the room for inspiration.

When she sees a copy of Misery sitting out for reshelving, she blurts, "Stephen. Steve."

Mrs. Finman looks at Robin for the first time that visit. "Just Steve?"

"Steve… Hair? Steve Hair…ington? Steve Harrington."

The librarian looks her up and down like she doesn't believe a word she's saying, but silently begins to type his information into the form.

I think Steve eventually comes to stay with Robin for real after they manage their first real conversation about it.

"What do you mean, you live at the beach?"

"Not at the beach," he argues. "In the… in the beach."

"In the ocean?!"

"Yes!"

"Okay, you're sleeping at mine tonight."

She obviously finds out about the creature of the sea issue because he literally never tries to hide it. She comes home one day and he's just lying on the kitchen floor in a puddle, exhausted from trying and failing to find a towel, because the sprayer in the sink went on the fritz. She trains him up to be more careful and never actually freaks out about the mermaid thing because honestly? It makes about as much sense as anything does concerning this guy.

When Robin graduates and moves out, by then Steve has a job working under Mrs Finman at the library, but he quits as soon as she mentions wanting to move away. Breaks that poor old woman's heart.

They choose their next destination together. Steve says Chicago is okay if that's what she wants, but she knows what he's like when he's kept from the ocean for too long and she's not eager to clean up after him again. (So. Much. Morton's. Salt.) He's lucky she loves him.

[finniestoncrane]

This might be a bit odd to ask but— may we see more Egon Spengler smut? Like some real degenerate stuff 👀 because like Winston said- “It’s always the quiet ones”

Egon Spengler x GN!Reader, word count: 800 friend thank you for this excuse to write egon as the weirdly dirty little freak we all know him to be, blessed be the "bent over a lap" position and all it brings to us, and thank you for strange beautiful nerds👻 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: spanking, anal fingering, face fucking, oral sex, crying a lil bit

"So... Is it true then? What they say?"

You had pulled back from the kiss, leaning away from Egon to study his face, watching as the fog on the lens of his glasses dissipated to reveal that sultry gaze of mischief. Without breaking his gaze, and knowing exactly what you were referring to, he put on an act of innocence before returning the question.

"Is what true?"

"You know! What the guys were teasing you about earlier. That you're... maybe a little more adventurous than others."

"As in? I'm more likely to take a different route home? Or learn to ride a motorcycle?"

His disingenous naivety was beginning to annoy you, only slightly, and only because you were so desperate to know the truth.

"They said it was always the quiet ones. And you're... Maybe not quiet but definitely unnassuming."

Egon's lip curled up at the corner, a smirk crossing his mouth as he narrowed his brows in concentration, reading you without effort, ascertaining exactly what you wanted to hear.

"Indeed. Allow me to explain, then."

"Only... Only explain? Or could there potentially be more merit in a physical demonstration?"

That smile again, curled into a gleeful, knowing smirk, excited to see you leaning into this.

"Ah, a kinesthetic learner."

"When it comes to this topic, very much so. Although, I am a novice, so please. Go slow. And make sure to be very detailed."

He choked on the chuckle that pushed out of his throat, nerves jangled by the sudden jump in your flirtatious behaviour, excited to start this lesson. But he pushed aside any concerns and straightened his back, waving a hand over the space on the sofa in the break room beside of him and instructing you.

"Very well, then. Please, if you could get onto all fours here, and allow me to begin the demonstration."

There was no point in trying to play it cool, so you jumped up, practically bouncing on the sofa cushion as you settled yourself into position. His hands grazed over your thighs, following them up to your rear and lower back where he tugged at the waistband of your pants, teasing them down to expose your cheeks.

"Now, first part of your education into the science of me. If given the option, I prefer to forego any kind of preliminary research and preparation and get right down to the science."

In a swift move, he brought his hand to his face, long, pointed finger popping into his mouth to be covered by a lewd amount of saliva before bringing it back down between your cheeks and immediately inserting it into your hole. You jumped at the surprise, thighs pressing tightly together as you tried to contain your whimpering in response to his sudden invasion of your body. Sudden, but very welcome.

"Normally, I might register internal temperatures, measure the response as indicators of potential results, but as an expert in this field, I can procure reliable results from observation alone."

His finger pressed deeper, making tiny circles as it stretched your tense, tight hole, your body convulsing around it as you delighted in the sensation of Egon inside of you.

"I also like to mitigate any potential for wasted time. In my professional capacity, I believe in rigorous testing and repeated results. However, I think we can incrase our studies. If you don't mind?"

Egon was already unzipping his trousers, unveiling his cock for you. Thick, black, curled hair surrounded the base of the long, slender length, forcing you down onto it mid-reply, unwilling to hear the ending of your consent before having your lips around him. The surprise of him filling your mouth had him throwing his head back, knocking his glasses askew as he groaned in response to your immediate coughing and spluttering. You tried your best to steady yourself, but you were a mess. Eyes watering, mouth open wide, saliva drooling over your chin and his shaft, spittle leaving dark droplets on the fabric of his pants. You could barely breathe, still catching your breath from surprise, moaning in pleasure as his finger was joined by a second digit inside of you.

"Don't worry, I'm monitoring your breathing and your heart rate, I can feel your pulse from inside of you. You can take more, please trust me, I'm a scientist."

Your vision blurred, shock and arousal, trying hard to steady yourself and not wanting to affect the results of his work. You wanted to do your best for him, wanted to see what else he had in store. Seemingly so mild-mannered, willing to coldly and scientifically dominate you. It was only polite of you to be a conscientous audience, given he was being so kind as to give you a private demonstration of his secretive methods.

[primeofprimes115]

"I didn't think you were this Super" - Supergirl x Male Reader (Supergirl: The Movie Version)

Note: Fluff/Wholesome 🥰

"So, if you're his cousin, you can do everything he can, right? I know you can fly, bend steel bars and lift trucks and buses over your head since I've seen you do it, but can you do everything he can?"

Y/N wouldn't exactly call himself lucky in life, not with dangers and downsides in mostly every corner within everywhere he went, despite still being young and getting into the life of an young adult, it wasn't exactly easy much.

"Yes" the young woman soon answered with a little smirk at the edge of her lips.

"Wow... That's amazing!" Y/N soon replied after a whole few seconds of taking it all in. He still felt a little woozy after being swept up and flown to a safe distance. "But... Thank you, for saving me, least from what you told me" he had originally been unconscious, due to an altercation within a certain amusement park, while he was on a date with someone special.

Even when danger happened when he was around certain parts of the town, whether he was with his mother to help her, or some townsfolk with loading up trucks and anything they needed help with, he'd end up being protected by a blue and red blur, every time he even glanced at the foreign object.

At first glance, he thought it was the hero from Metropolis he had heard and seen many pictures on newspapers about, but something seemed different about the blur, but he let it get over his head and moved on, he thanked whoever was keeping him safe from dangers when he did the best he could to help.

However, he wasn't great at getting the girls, getting friends and wasn't great at education much either, he was what would be called, troubled in life, unsure of what he really wants in life.

It's what made him different, but usually the folk these days always seem to be moving on, while he thinks he's just stuck on where he is, despite getting help from his widowed mother.

But there was one thing Y/N was great at...

Helping others around him.

They say he has a heart of gold, a gentle persona within him, someone who likes to see others smile before he does and many wouldn't give him a thank you or appreciation in return, but when some ask him if he wants anything in return, he politely declines anything in return - even though his polite decline had fell on deaf ears and he was given something in return, even offers of being one's friend, he wasn't really used to be given anything in return for helping someone with their day.

Unbeknownst to him, someone had been watching his selfless actions on helping others, a blonde haired figure, clad in a blue leotard and red skirt, who dressed in a red cape and boots, who wore a symbol on their outfit and cape, equivalent to the one a certain superhero in Metropolis wore proudly.

This very same person had been the blue and red blur keeping the townsfolk and himself safe, most reported it was a female, confirming Y/N's suspicions that the blur was different, however... No one really knew who she was, they said she wore the same symbol as the hero in Metropolis does but so far? He wasn't sure... He thought himself lucky to be saved by this heroine from time to time but it wasn't much really. She was also confirmed to be a blonde haired woman, confirming Y/N's suspicions further when being saved by the same woman again not too long ago.

But for the first time in his life... He almost counted himself lucky when meeting this one brunette haired girl after helping her with her dropped belongings...

Her name was Linda Lee, an orphan who was in fact the cousin of Clark Kent, who works at the Daily Planet stationed in Metropolis, it was a surprising fact that Linda was the cousin of a well-known journalist.

It weren't long until he and Linda crossed paths again, which was shortly after meeting, just randomly at a Popeyes in Midvale with her friend, Lucy Lane, soon getting along with each other and was even offered to come hang out with the two or just the one from now on, depending on what day it was, since he looked like he needed a friend or two.

At first he declined but he couldn't keep himself from looking at Linda every now and then, she was this... Smart and bright girl who seemed to look in the good of everyone, he wanted to know more about her, so he decided maybe it was for the best to accept being friends with Lucy and Linda, since her mother knew his mom which was a surprise.

The more he hanged out with those two, the more he became so engrossed about Linda, who was she? Where did she come from? She always had strange answers whenever Y/N asked where she came from, she'd always say "Earth" or "Argo" for that matter, even spurting out a "Kara" when introducing herself to Y/N's mother when they met.

It was... Quite odd, but that's what made him so fascinated about her, as much as she was interested in him even.

But when it came to dangers? Crime or anything involving that, Linda would mysteriously disappear and the reported heroine would appear, and while that happened, Y/N would try his best to keep any civilians at a safe distance as possible.

A weird occurrence happened with a construction vehicle once began to spiral out of control, like it was being possessed by something, and rampaged throughout Midvale with no one on the controls to even stop it.

Y/N had sprung himself into action, despite being told countless times to stop by onlookers and Lucy herself, eventually having climbed inside the vehicle to try and steer the vehicle away from civilians and trying to stop it, albeit to no success, or at least he thought it was a success after a few seconds went by when it finally stopped, before looking out to see that it wasn't stopped by his hand, but by another.

It was the same heroine that was reported to be keeping Midvale safe from harm whoever and whatever was causing harm, the heroine had forced the vehicle to a stop with her immense strength, leaving only a dent within the vehicle's hull.

Y/N had began to step out the vehicle upon the female's command, only to trip up and fall, but caught by the superheroine, which would normally make someone embarrassed if it had happened to someone else, but to him? He didn't feel embarrassed.

He felt entranced by her, her beautiful golden locks and that it blew in the wind much like her red cape, her perfect looking face, her perfect blue eyes, her lips that curved into a smile.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" she asked him after catching him, despite being looked at by the public of Midvale, her only concern was his safety.

"I... Y-Yes, I'm okay" he was stunned by her figure but there was something bothering him. "How do you know my name?".

The heroine smiled back at him before walking away from the excavator, still carrying him like a bride. "I just know" she said while putting him back onto his feet.

Call it a strange circumstance, the heroine looked awfully familiar to Linda Lee, the tone of voice, the look, the smile, it entranced him.

He asked the question on who was she, she answered with a name.

"Supergirl".

She flew off afterwards before giving Y/N one last smile and telling him to be safe, with many deeming her a wonderful marvel to see, the town's hero most had put, some thought of her as Superman's sister.

Linda would soon return after disappearing randomly during that time, with Lucy telling her she just missed the heroine swoop in to save the day, even teasing Y/N about being carried like a bride by her, which made his face flash a little red from the teasing.

It was a very strange circumstance how she returned after 'Supergirl' had left by flying on out, Linda returns, and even more so whenever danger had popped up nearby or somewhere else, she'd disappear and reappear later once it had been resolved.

It began happening more often than not as the weeks went by, though mostly Y/N had gone off to keep people safe and away from these certain dangers, just like his father would do if he were still around, Supergirl would try to resolve the situation to keep the dangers from getting to civilians.

There would be certain times when Y/N would be gifted flowers, which had his mom prompt into telling him he had a secret admirer and if only his father could see him now, of how much the man he is becoming, just like his father.

"Maybe I do have a secret admirer, but who?" he questioned, especially in the messages he had received, his actions were being praised, his heart of gold was being noticed. "And why?".

"That is not up for debate, son. Before me and your father met, he was a wealthy man that indulged in helping others before him, he raised many fundraisers to help the sick and homeless, helped many townsfolk the best he could. Why do you think the Hospital down in New York was named after him?" his mother sat down with him. "Midvale was built because of his family, he and his family showed kindness while others would not bat an eye to the problems that were before".

"But I'm not interesting, mom" Y/N responded with a downed-tone. "I mean... Does anyone really appreciate my actions? Do they only say they do because I'm around? Afraid they'd hurt me?" 

"Oh believe me, son... You are. And people are appreciating you. Jeffrey the other day dropped by to say thank you to us, to you. They were short-staffed that day and then came you, who helped load up their truck full of boxes, I heard the stuff they were loading was pretty heavy".

"It was" Y/N nodded before sighing. "What's this got to do with the fact that I have a secret admirer to begin with?" he then asked.

"Because you helped someone, I don't know who, but judging from the flowers and little cute notes? Someone definitely sees you as their favorite for helping them, and I feel like it could be someone you know" she made an obvious remark. "Could be Linda Lee, I sure know it wouldn't be Lucy, she's got her eyes on someone else".

"Y-You really think it would be Linda? Yeah, sure she's super and I like her, but... I don't know".

"If you like her, ask her out!" his mom encouraged him with a little shake on his shoulder. "I know you've liked her for some time, she is pretty adorable".

"Oh, great heavens" Y/N sighed to himself quietly, feeling his face heat up from embarrassment. "I'm just... I'm afraid she'd say no if I ask her out. She's just so... Perfect and I'm not".

"I'm inclined to disagree, son. You are perfect in your own way, just like Linda is perfect in her own right. Think over it, and don't be too late, because someone will take her from you".

He did carefully think about it, meeting Linda a few more times before eventually having built-up the courage to ask out Linda on a date, though leaving her confused at first, she began to understand what a "date" was, accepting Y/N's offer to go out on a date with him which felt surreal, Lucy was happy for the both, especially for Linda since it was gonna be Linda's first date as much as she was a little confused by the sudden reaction.

Sure... Linda also liked Y/N back, but she never did it as "Linda".

Y/N or Lucy never knew this... But Linda was in fact Supergirl herself, the brown hair was nothing but a wig, to fool them so she wouldn't have anyone batting an eye to a regular person, Linda Lee was a persona to blend in after getting intrigued by humanity.

Supergirl had been giving him the flowers and little notes, she made sure he knew his selfless actions were being praised and recognized, she was a superheroine, keeping the townsfolk safe, but Y/N was the town's own hero, making sure he was being recognized as one and not ignored like he had been since she began protecting Midvale.

It was supposed to be a simple and fun date, with them meeting at an amusement park however, Y/N had brought Linda flowers and even chocolates to show how much he cares about her.

But it was soon ruined by unsuspected danger from one of Superman's villains, Toyman, who was causing a ruckus to draw out Midvale's own heroine by transforming the amusement park into a whole nightmare fest with his creations, it was a shock to even see one of his villains cause this much chaos to begin with, all because he wanted throw hands with the ever so deemed "Girl of Steel" that had gotten across the newspapers everywhere in the United States.

Before the chaos erupted, Y/N offered to get her an ice cream, she stayed near one of the benches not far from where the ice cream was being sold to customers. And with that knowledge of leaving Linda on her own? Y/N had to search for her, despite his life being in danger from the threat of the villain that attacked the amusement grounds, a very familiar location to what Supergirl had been around within her last encounter with another villain.

Supergirl soon arrived however, to put a stop to the chaos that Toyman had created, seeing Y/N in danger and unconscious which only made the situation more tense that it should've been 

But thankfully... Supergirl soon apprehended Toyman, soon destroying his machinations and saving the amusement park from being overrun by Toyman's creations before the authorities showed up, but her concerns for Y/N soon caught up to her, knowing he was caught in the crossfire.

She scooped him up into her arms and flown out of the amusement park, flying overhead as Y/N began to regain consciousness, soon opening his eyes to see a familiar sight, but blonde hair instead of brunette hair.

His awakening had her fly down toward ground, near the shoreline next to a forest, where she was questioned on what happened, since he couldn't really remember, he was soon caught up with what happened and now finds himself in the presence of his hero once again, having already asked if she can do what her cousin can do.

"I should get going, I have to go back, those people at the amusement park might need me still. Stay here, I will come back for you" she began to walk off, presumably to leap into the air to fly, until Y/N spoke again. 

"Amusement park? Linda..." the name escaped his lips.

Supergirl turned around to face the young man, with a little shock on her expression.

"I... I left her there, we were on a date, she might be in trouble!".

The heroine let out a small smile in that response. "I'm sure she can take care of herself" she nodded.

"No, I have to go help her, she's probably looking for me still! I love her and I already screwed up by abandoning her" Y/N cursed at himself.

"Hey, hey" Supergirl approached the young man with a soft demeanor, still pretending she isn't standing in front of her date right at this minute. "You haven't screwed up, Linda is safe".

"But how do you know if she's safe?" Y/N argued back. "How do you know if I haven't screwed up? How can I have a heart of gold if I can't protect my own date? What if she's-".

"Do not worry, Y/N" she gently caresses' his hand, using a gentle notion to keep him calm. "I promise that Linda is not in trouble" she tried to calm him down further, trying to convince him otherwise that Linda was okay, knowing very well she can't keep up this game to convince him.

"I promised I'd protect her if anything were to happen to her, shield her even, even if she doesn't know that she doesn't deserve me, she deserves someone else probably".

"Then why did you ask her out?" Supergirl asked him, despite feeling something in her heart weigh down upon hearing him talk about himself like that.

"Because I like her, I... Love her?" he questioned, failing to see Supergirl's teething smile for a brief moment. "I do love her, yes... But I don't deserve her, she's perfect all around, and despite what my mom says, I'm not perfect, I never will be".

"Trust me as I say this. You do deserve her" Supergirl... Kara, soon found herself looking at his lips, the feeling of wanting to tell him, to show him, Linda was in fact alright and standing in front of him as he spoke. "To her, you're this heart of gold, someone who sees the better in many people, who helps others before himself, like those people in Midvale that load up those trucks, like the elderly woman that needs help crossing the street, or helping those people with those shopping bags. She sees the young man you really are, a sweet and gentle man who wants nothing more to help others that need it... Like a hero. That's what she thinks of you" she smiled, opting to comfort him further.

No... She was the hero, not him, he wouldn't allow it. He sighed in response to her words, even though sweet and caring... Just like...

Linda's words... Making him realize something about... The golden heroine of Midvale.

"Wait, how do you know that? How do you know what she thinks of me?" he then asked out of the blue.

This gave her the opportunity to show him how she knows, she knew it was only a matter of time before the cracks begin to show, she smiled to herself for a moment, using her super hearing to assess the amusement park, with the Fire Department having getting to work on freeing trapped civilians successfully.

"Because I... I know" she smiled, drawing her face closer to his.

Y/N soon took notice of this gesture from her, soon thinking back on something he thought about upon his first meeting with Supergirl and all the other times the two have glanced at one another.

His eyes soon begin to widen as he puts the pieces together in the short amount of time before he feels a pair of lips on his... Supergirl's lips...

Linda's lips.

Supergirl soon pulled back, giving him a small kiss on his lips to further seal the deal, her eyes open to meet his ones opening softly, a surprised smile soon creeping up on his lips.

"L-Linda" he only said with a shortness of breath. "You're... Her".

"Yes" Kara soon nodded with a gentle smile. "I am".

"Blonde hair really does suit you" he complimented, making her brightly smile" You... You really meant what you said there, didn't you?" he then asked her.

"Every last word" Feeling herself draw in again to capture his lips in hers, a soft smack soon playing after connecting lips for a second time with their eyes closing.

She felt his touch around her hips, holding her close to his body, not wanting to let go of his hero, who was in fact Linda this whole time.

Kara soon placed her arms around him gently, with their lips continuing to dance slowly with the water splashing against the shoreline gently.

"Linda" Y/N mumbled into Kara's lips, smiling through his second ever kiss, and even though it is, he was surely a good one judging from the way Supergirl was enjoying it. "I knew you were super, but I Didn't Think You Were This Super" he mumbled into her lips once more.

The latter pulled back and smiled at him, whilst opening her eyes to look at him again. "You mustn't tell anyone about this" she said with a serious tone.

"Does Lucy know?".

"No, but she will, in time" Supergirl answered, puckering her lips.

A moment of silence went by between them as they looked into each other's eyes, as Y/N pushed a strand of blonde hair that covered the S on her suit behind the heroine's ear, feeling how soft her real hair was, how gentle her cape felt when it brushed over his hand, the suit hugged her body warmly, at least from what he felt.

The only sounds heard were the gentle crashes of the water hitting the shoreline, birds chirping in the trees, the sun shining down onto the water ahead of them in their respective left and right.

Just a young couple, who's date went wrong, now spending it at this peaceful part of Midvale, safe and no person in sight... Just them.

"I know this might be a hard ask, but... Can you take me flying?" he innocently asks Supergirl, breaking the silence of the gentle waves and wind. "If you don't mind, I kinda want to know what it looks like really".

A teething smile appeared on the young caped woman's face. "Of course! I'd be happy to show you, hold my hand and I'll show you" she offered her hand and he took it.

"How are you going to hold me up?".

"With my strength, and hold on tight" she smiled with a wink, lifting him up with her into the air...

______________________________________________________________

Night had fallen upon the sky, the Moon illuminated the sky above as the water crashed upon the shoreline of the beach far ahead.

The wind blew gently through the hair of Supergirl, with her cape being picked up slightly as it was wrapped around by something... Someone.

She felt a little weight on her shoulder and someone hugging her arm tightly, feeling her warm embrace as she looked onto the ocean with the Moon reflecting off from it far ahead of her.

"So, your real name is Kara, right?" the silence that fell was broken by her date she continued to hang out with for the rest of the day. She turned her head slightly to look at the young man that placed his head on her shoulder, his face smudging against the gentle fabric on her shoulder.

"Yes, that's my birthname" she answered with a gentle tone. "Kara Zor-El, you can call me that when it's just us two" she proceeded to reveal furthermore about herself to him, she trusted him this much after all.

"That's a beautiful name" he whispered to her neatly, his hand tugging tightly at the cape wrapped around him and herself, watching the calm ocean together with her alone.

"You think so?".

"Yeah, I sure do" he looked at her before smiling, pushing himself up to peck her lips. "I'm glad you wanted to continue today's date after it went wrong at the park" he said showing gratitude to her efforts. "The flying was amazing especially".

"I'm glad to hear that" she smiled back at him. "I'd be happy to continue this".

"Continue us?" Y/N asked, seeing her lightly nod before his smile brightened. "I'd be happy too" he replied.

Kara briefly kissed his forehead before letting Y/N rest his head on her shoulder once again, not before yawning gently. "You tired?".

"Mhm" he mumbled. "I think I'd *yawn* like to sleep here with you, if you don't mind, it was a long day after all" he continued, beginning to close his eyes.

"I can take you back to your home while you sleep, if that's okay with you, I know we'll see each other tomorrow" she offered, making him open his eyes again to look at her.

"What about my mom? That means you'll-".

"I'll tell her" she interrupted politely with a gentle look on her face.

"Just prepare for her reaction, I'm sure she'll freak out that I'm dating a superhero now" he replied.

"Noted" she smirked, beginning to scoop him up with her cape unwrapping around him as she picks him up with complete ease.

"Gives me goosebumps that" he noted while resting his head on her, making Kara smile. "Thank you, I love you" he said before snoring off as Kara begins levitating up.

"I love you too, Y/N" she said back before taking flight...

______________________________________________________________

Fin...

Word Count: 4027

[magical-mystery-tour1967]

Omg... he's just so fucking gay... he's just SO fucking gay...

(This post is about Antonio Salieri from the movie Amadeus)