#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."

[saltsourz]

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 😭

[a-door-to-somewhere]

Sometimes I wonder how much fanfic of classical/iconic literature exists because of school projects. Just floating out there. In a drive somewhere. Not to mention that nothing is more unhinged than bored middle/highschoolers being forced to liven up books they might not care about. For every deranged ao3 crossover fic there is an infinitely more deranged crackfic written for the great gatsby or antigone or to kill a mockingbird or whatever by a bored highschooler and his friends for 10th grade English. I wanna read it

[tuliptired]

hi! can i request a egan x complete opposite reader? like someone so different like a model or actress of some sort

Uptown Girl

Pairings: Egon Spengler/Fem!Actress!Reader

sorry for looking at stantzler yaoi while this was sitting in my drafts

Better formatting on Ao3!

Peter could tell something was up with his friend. Something different from the norm. In the past handful of weeks, Egon’s turned into a fidgety, flighty mess. Misprinting calculations, misplacing tools- all in blue. He was wearing so much more blue. The reticent man never really had a favorite color, something Peter relearned everytime he probed him when bored, but this was just way too out of character. Egon? Color coordinating? Insanity.

He had a discarded newspaper open at his excuse for an office, spacing out while Ray messed around with Janine’s little TV, Winston holding a flashlight over it for him. She had won it when she was small, the faulty wiring spilling out the back panel a testament to its age. 

Janine sat up impatiently, folding her magazine. “It’s almost time Ray, is it working?” 

Ray dropped his pair of pliers. “It should be,” he said unconfidently, screwing the paneling back on as Winston adjusted the antenna. The machine crackled and popped, sounds and images cutting in and out as it gained and lost a signal.

The subject of Peter’s suspicions came down the stairs flinching at the noise, looking to pass and leave the firehouse but too intrigued by the feat of electrical engineering happening at Janine’s desk. “What’s this?” 

Peter’s eyes narrowed at the barely there sight of a shiny, new silver watch. Christ, were those blue diamonds? Everyone who’s regularly stepped foot into the firehouse has tried and failed at attempting to get Egon to upgrade his wristwear, the old brown thing that barely had an audible tick. Peter’s own seasonal gifts for him got fancier and fancier as the years went on, Egon turning down a Timex with an alarm at one point. He insisted that anything he could go out and buy would serve the same purpose as the beatdown leather already owned- regardless of needing to squint to see the arms.  

She opened her magazine back up again, fluttering through glossed pages until she found the right one. “You’ve heard of that one show, right?” Janine held up an advertisement for the program, promoting big guests like Madonna or Robin Williams. “I’ve been trying to catch the reruns-”

“And I’ve been trying to tell her that it ruins the integrity of the show.”

“If I wasn’t locked up in here every Saturday night, I wouldn’t have to. Don’t put down the receiver, Winston.”

Ray watched with his fist under his chin as the signal got closer and closer to whatever channel he had twisted the knob for. Janine sat up straighter, flipping to a different page. “Anyway, there’s a new actress on there, and I don’t wanna miss her.”

Winston leaned over to check if the screen was any clearer. “My sister showed me an article on her. Very fashionable.” 

“I know, her picture was on billboard on 46th,” Janine raved, “you’d like her, Peter.”

He shook his head, licking his pointer finger to get to a different section of the paper. “I’m more into musicians.”

Egon spoke up, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re mistaken, Peter. She’s an incredibly talented actress with an incredible repertoire.”

Looks were exchanged between all of them. If the elephant in the room was offended, he didn’t show it. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ray shrugged, “it’s just…she’s so..”

“Outgoing.”

“Witty.”

“Expressive.”

“And you’re you! Nothing wrong with it,” Ray patted his taller friend’s shoulder.

Egon looked at his colleagues blankly. “I can still enjoy her work, despite certain character differences.”

The TV finally got a stable connection, though not celebrated by anyone in the room as Egon’s anomaly took up all their attention. “I thought you didn’t have a television?” Winston questioned, moving the antenna again and losing the stream.

“I don’t.”

Peter raised an incredulous eyebrow to him from across the room. Something like a realization flashed behind Egon’s eyes, before he turned his eyes from their gaze and cleared his throat. “I’m going home early tonight. Call me if you need anything.”

That certainly didn’t do anything to soothe Peter’s speculation. Egon barely ever went home. If anything, the only reason he had an apartment to his name was because it was expected of him after graduating his last year of university. Even so, he was barely ever there, spending his nights slumped over in a lab- Columbia’s or otherwise. Peter would be surprised if the man was still paying rent.

Ray and Winston must’ve been carrying the same sentiment. “We’ll still be seeing you tomorrow, right Eges?”

 The man stood stiffly, as if under a spotlight. “Hopefully.” He was motionless, before grabbing Janine’s TV and scurrying out the door.

“Hey!”

Strange indeed.

Egon walked briskly under the fluorescent lighting of the hallway. It was almost 7, after all. A warm brown bag of Chinese food sat under his arm as he got closer to the rickety door. He hesitated to turn the key, hearing staticky music on the other side. When he did, there you were, surrounded by brown bags just like his and messing with the antiquated radio by his stovetop. It felt odd, and strangely smug, to have you in his tiny and bland apartment after his friends praised your stardom.

Your manicured fingers turned the volume down. “Sorry! It’s hard to entertain myself here when you don’t have a TV.” The same woman that was all over Times Square was here, in his kitchen, placing a kiss to his cheek. 

“I do now,” he juggled the boxy appliance before you took it from him gently.

“Where’d you get this? It’s adorable,” you smiled, inspecting it. He peered into the bags cluttering his limited counter space as he put down your dinner, some holding groceries and some with wrapped packages.

“A friend. What’re these?” Egon didn’t have to turn to you to see the guilty expression you had while he pulled out containers of takeout. You had a bad habit of buying him luxuries he never thought he would need.

You grabbed a few things from one of the sacks, opening his outdated fridge. “I know we agreed to you bringing dinner, but it’s just a few things for when you’re on your own.” He wrinkled his nose.

“I have food.”

Egon watched you teeter your palm back and forth, grabbing another bag and opening one of his cabinets. “What’s the point of eating-out if you never eat-in?” 

“You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”

He felt nice as you smiled at him, folding the discarded paper and tossing it in the bin. “You know I don’t mind.” It would’ve been a sweet moment, if there wasn’t another bag on the counter that caught his attention, which you scrambled to pull away. Before you could, he brought it to his lap, gazing down inside.

He pulled out different wrapped packages, labels from one of the most expensive department stores in the area. “Y/N.”

You put your hands up in defense, lowering yourself into the stool across from him.  “I know, I know. But, look!” You leaned over, showcasing one. “New curtains! And there’s a watch in there, somew-here.”

Egon’s eyes nearly popped out when he found a little box, forgotten at the bottom, with a price tag higher than what two ghostbusters made in a week. “You have to return this,” he decided, hardly opening it before snapping it shut.

“You don’t like it?”

“I do. I appreciate you getting it. But you can’t keep spending your money on me.”

You knelt on your hand, disappointment clearly subsiding as you used the other one to open up the food. “It doesn’t make a difference to me. I was in that area, anyway.”

He passed you a plastic fork. “How come?”

“I had an appointment with my dress guy,” you started. He’d be embarrassed to admit it, but it took him an abnormally long time to realize that you were referring to the people you regularly bought things from, rather than lightly suggesting a polyamorous relationship. “And he showed me the finished product for Friday! Isn’t it exciting?”

You produced a print from your purse, handing it to him with a bright smile. It was a dress on a mannequin- very bold, very you, and very blue. “It is.” Egon grinned sincerely, admiring the idea. “Very beautiful.”

You stabbed your fork into a vegetable, seemingly forlorn as he put the photo aside. “It’s a shame you’ll only get to see it on TV. Unless, you wanna be my date,” you perked.

Egon could feel himself frown. In any other world, he would be at your side every hour of every day- every interview, airing, or red carpet appearance. But he was still Egon, through and through. So you compromised on “waiting until the right time” to make your relationship public.

“Not this time,” he avoided looking at you. You were understanding, you always were, but he could imagine how irritating a constant no could be.

He jumped as your head hit the countertop. “You’ll let everyone know at the wedding,” you groaned. Egon moved to console you, worried about having hurt your feelings, before your head snapped back up.

“Kidding.” He let out a sigh he couldn’t recall holding in. “You wanna be there when I get ready? You could help me with the zipper,” you leaned forward, voice teasing him. He couldn’t refuse.

“Of course,” Egon smiled, before it fell. “I’m sorry. That I keep telling you no.”

You shrugged, waving him off. How undeserving he was, to be loved by someone so forgiving. “I know. You’re an interesting guy, Egon. It’ll happen when it happens.” You had his hand in yours, brushing his knuckles as you looked on at each other earnestly.

Something caught your attention, breaking eye contact, Egon shrinking at the loss of connection. You turned in your seat to the rest of the apartment. “I never told you! I noticed you started decorating!”

It was a small place, only one bedroom and older than most people Egon’s age would be proud of. When he first moved in, the only things he took the liberty of situating were: a bed, a chair, various papers and books and scientific projects. It was more a storage space, rather than one to live in. He dawned on this the first time you offered to have him over, realizing that he’d have to return the favor- after picking up a bit. It’s not much right now, save for more furniture and ambience, but there was always something new whenever you visited. “After you told me it had the feng shui of an asylum.”

“Then we both have something to work on.”

“What was this doing in the mail this morning?” Peter bounded the steps to the second tier of the firehouse. Ray and Winston were trying their best to pick up around the kitchen, while Egon was hunched over his workbench, jittery and unorganized. Whatever he was keeping from them, it did a good job at keeping him from work. This would’ve been a nice change for the doctor, if it didn’t mean Peter had to be alert for any sudden fires.

He passed the booklet to Winston, whose eyes widened like a cartoon as the centerfold unfurled into two more pages. “Holy…”

“Maybe it’s Janine’s?” Ray proposed, cheeks pink as he clumsily folded them back up.

Her voice called up from downstairs, before the front door slammed shut. “I don’t read that brand, and if I did I wouldn’t be working here.”

That left the three men, standing in tense silence. Not Peter, he was tasteful with his filth- tucked away in the hidden part of his filing cabinet. 

“Why would one of us order something like this in the mail?”

Peter gently took it from Winston. “Alright, no need to embarrass anyone. My mail is your mail is your mail is my mail.”’ He jumped to a random page, settling into the couch. “We’re all friends here.”

Ray and Winston hesitantly crowded around him, unabashedly eager to view what was inside. Egon, however, was frozen at his desk, lab coat halfway off.

“Donna Rice stuns in a poolside photo…Madonna looks nice here…” The professor was a second away from crumpling. Schadenfreude.

Ray shrugged one of his shoulders, leaning over the armrest. “Some of these aren’t so bad,” he admitted. 

Peter let out a low whistle. “Here’s the girl you like so much, Spengs. Orange dress.” Egon rose then, a bit less catatonic as he shrugged his lab coat off, back to his friends.

“She wouldn’t wear orange this season. Or any season. It doesn’t pair well with anything and it washes her out.”

Peter blinked. Not the angle he was looking for, but a good psychologist never quits when they’re ahead. “Did she tell you this?”

Egon visibly hardened, turning to face them. “No. In a 1986 interview with People, in the second paragraph of the 12th page, she said she’d never wear anything long and orange at the same time.”

Peter slowly revealed the page to him, speaking even slower. “Sorry, superfan. She was wearing green.”

The professor only stared, before clearing his throat and fixing his clothes a bit, Ray and Winston silent at Peter’s side as he rolled up the print. “I’m leaving for the night. And I’m taking the car.”

He was halfway out the room before Ray stuttered, taken aback. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you drive, Spengs.”

“And you can’t take the car.” Peter chided

Egon stilled on the staircase. “I have the keys. And there aren’t any jobs in the morning- you can do without it. Goodnight.”

Peter tapped the shiny paper against his palm a few times, turning to the men at his side. “He’s either selling drugs, or he’s trying to ditch us."

Sure, Egon wasn’t much of a driver. But he’d make the commute if he wanted to see you. Eventually, streets lined with skyscrapers and taxis melted into roads lined with starlight and trees as he carefully recalled the directions to your house just outside the city, surrounded by woodlands. He knew you'd wouldn’t be back until late in the night, so he was content busying himself with your chores until the sounds of a Mustang screeching to a halt in your driveway peeled him away from the last dish in the sink.

Egon carefully peeked out one of your windows, watching as you jumped out the backseat of the hastily parked car. “I probably just left a light on! One sec!” Your door handle jiggled with the turn of keys, before you poked your head in, voice low.

“Wanna say hi?”

He politely declined, and you were halfway out the door again, waving goodbye to your friends, before they skidded off into the night. Your home was a stark contrast to his own, decorated and personable without becoming clumsy. But, many a night you’d crooned to him over the phone about how empty it can get. So, there he was.

“You didn’t have to come all this way,” Egon felt you mummer against his back, arms wrapped around his middle while he finished wiping down the edge of the sink, light fragrance mingling with the smell of dish soap. You always smelt good, after a night out.

“I wanted to. Did you have fun?” he inquired, hearing you hum as you peeled yourself from him, lurking towards the stairs.

“As much,” Egon bent behind you to collect your discarded shoes, “as I could have.”

He caught the earrings you pinched off from your earlobes. ‘They didn’t show you a good time?”

You paused in front of your bedroom door, waiting for Egon to open it, which he did. “It was a great time- I love premieres.” You lowered yourself onto the large mattress, calling out to him as he went into the master bathroom to start a bath. “But, I think you know very well why I wanted to come home.”

“I wonder,” he mused chaffingly, sitting behind you on the bed. His favorite night time routine, whenever he was around after you successfully painted the town red. The events and invitations just got bigger and bigger, increasingly extravagant the longer he knew you. Here he was, getting farther and farther over the hill. In spite of it all, he liked taking care of you, especially when you were wearied from an evening of fun.

You leaned forward as he gently unclasped the jewelry from around your neck, careful not to bust the fastener. “I’m happy you’re here now, Egon.” he heard you coo tiredly and softly. Egon pressed a devoted kiss to the nape of your neck where the metal had lay, drawing out a delighted laugh from underneath him.

“Then I’m glad I came.”

Both of you just sat there, warmth against warmth until Egon remembered that your faucet was still running. He took to unzipping the back of your gown. “Is it safe to assume my friends are becoming suspicious of me?”

“Oh yeah? What’re they doing?” you pondered, helping him as you stepped out of the pooling fabric.

“Pictures of you. Peter got a hold of one of your spreads.” Egon mulled. He carefully collected the material, laying it out on a chair in front of your expansive closet. He really appreciated those photographers, any other time. Particularly, when you weren’t available for so long.

Another thing he enjoyed about nights like these- you in your underclothing. Oh, guilty pleasures. But the sight vanished into the bathroom almost as soon as he took it in. “Did you tell them I was your outgoing, witty and expressive girlfriend?” 

Egon couldn’t help but follow you. “They seemed to have come to that conclusion on their own.” Egon stood against your sink while you sunk into the water- he knew you were pretty clean, but a washroom floor was still a washroom floor.

“I’m sure you have them fooled.” you guessed, leaning on the edge of the tub.

“I think so. But-” he noticed the look you were giving him. “You’re being sarcastic.”

He let you laugh at his expense, handing you various soaps from the caddy above. He’d been meaning to get a similar bottle to keep at his place, if you were ever willing to spend the night. What would your people say- if you didn’t come around when they were expecting you to? “And you? What do your friends think?” Egon queried. 

“They’ve been onto me. And they tell me: ‘bring him around sometime- one night can’t hurt,’” you teased. “There’s a blue suit to go with my dress waiting for you, if you really want.”

Egon felt so defenseless as you gazed up at him, extending the same invitation you’d been extending time and time again. Reservations be damned. The greatest person he knew was letting him spend a night in their arms- and he’d be anything but himself if he let the opportunity slip away again.

“I’ll go.”

“What?”

“On Friday. I’ll go with you. If you’ll have me.”

You beamed, sitting up and leaning impossibly close to him as he let himself kneel against the porcelain. “Oh, Egon! I could kiss you!” Your wet skin dripped onto the dainty rim.

“Why not?” he teased. Before the question could leave his lips, you had the end of his tie in your hand, nearly dragging him into the bath with you.

He could barf. Absolutely lose his cool in the back of this expensive car, or in front of all your famous friends. As happy as Egon was to experience a slice of your life with you, his nerves were on fire. He must’ve seriously underestimated the turnout of this thing- reality settling in as a number of stylists flooded your house as the evening approached. He felt the embrace of your hands on his jaw, as you made him look at you.

“You don’t have to talk to anyone, if you don’t want to. Just keep holding my hand.” You were glowing. “And- you look great. But…something’s missing,” you muttered. He swallowed hard, dreading what he managed to leave behind. He was breathless as you left a quick kiss off the center of his lips, laughing as you parted. “There,” you giggled.

“Mr. Spengler? There’s a call for you.” the hostess told him, peeling him away from the table of A-listers. As he answered the phone by the kitchen, he could recognize a familiar, angry voice.

“Egon Spengler.”

“Hello, Janine.”

The floodgates opened, and he could practically hear her nails digging into the desk. “I could rip your head off. Is that where you go all day? Hanging out with gorgeous celebrities? Why didn’t you tell us? You’re sitting at dinner with Mel Gibson! You should’ve introduced me. Why didn’t you introduce me? I would’ve killed to meet her- if I had met Einstein I would’ve introduced you. What’s next- you’re having tea with Cher? You disappear for weeks at a time, and we have to watch a tiny TV screen to find out you’re at an award show with a red lipstick stain on your face? You-”

“I’m sorry to cut this so short, Janine. But my wonderful girlfriend has an accolade to accept.”

[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.

[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

[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

[fl0werscam]

[storiesforallfandoms]

late night sins ~ xavier plympton;ahs 1984

word count: 5360 (the longest fic i’ve ever written!!)

request?: yes!

“Can you do a xavier plympton smut/ fluff where theres an poc reader and basically they meet at camp redwood and xavier basically flirts with the reader alot an the readers a virgin and she has like this gold cross pendant soo his friends kinda pick with the reader about her being the only virgin out of the group, and basically xavier sneaks in the girl cabin on a late night while everyone is sleeping wakes up the poc reader and takes her virginity under the covers but she has to be quiet to not alert the other camp counselors in the female cabin…”

description: in which the good christian girl decides to delve into sin after she meets her fellow hot camp counsellor

pairing: xavier plympton x poc!female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral; f receiving, unprotected p in v, pull out method is used but fr wrap it before you tap it kids)

masterlist (one, two, three)

The minute she stepped out of her car, she knew she was going to stick out like a sore thumb. She could see the other camp counsellors gathered around by the entrance. They were all wearing skintight, revealing clothes. One girl with messy blonde hair was passing a joint to one of the boys stood next to her. An older looking man was stood with them wearing pants so tight she could make out the outline of his...downstairs area.

The gold cross hung around her neck felt like it was burning into her skin.

She swallowed her fear and forced herself towards the others. The crunching of dirt under her tennis shoes felt like a thundering stomp as the attention was pulled towards her. The blonde looked her up and down as she blew smoke from the corner of her mouth. “Who invited the Virgin Mary?”

Two of her friends snickered while the other two - a black haired girl and a tall boy with sandy blonde hair - shuffled awkwardly at the joke. Well, the girl was awkward. The boy was silent, but he was looking at her with a look in his eye she couldn’t quite place.

“I’m, um, (Y/N),” she said, ignoring the hurtful comment. “I’m a counsellor this summer, too.”

“I guess Margaret needed someone to try and keep her goodie two shows rules in place,” the blonde said. “I’m Montana. This is Brooke, Trevor, Chet, Ray, and Xavier.”

“It’s n-nice to m-meet you,” (Y/N) said.

Trevor, the man with the tight pants and a big bulge, chuckled. “Well, isn’t she adorable. Where did Margaret find you?”

“Leave her alone,” Brooke said. “It’s nice to meet you too, (Y/N). Here, let me take you to Margaret. She’ll be able to get you acquainted here.”

Xavier watched as Brooke guided (Y/N) towards Margaret's office. Unlike the other girls, including good girl Brooke, she was completely covered in baggy clothes despite the intense heat of the summer. Which, he knew he shouldn’t have found attractive, but he did. He was so taken by her after such a short interaction.

Montana elbowed Xavier to snap him out of his train of thought. “Do not tell me you’re eyeing up the Bible humper.”

“Fuck off. I think she’s cute,” Xavier retorted, taking the joint from Ray.

“Never gonna happen, man,” Ray told him. “You’ll be lucky if you see her ankles this summer.”

“Or maybe not,” Chet added. “Most of those Christian girls are freaks. She’ll be on her knees by nightfall I’d say.”

Xavier threw the lit joint at Chet. The four remaining counsellors made noises of disapproval as the joint fizzled out on the ground. Xavier ignored them as he walked away. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he needed to get away from his shitty friends. Sure, at one point Xavier would’ve been laughing along with them at the Christian girl’s expensive, but this Christian girl was different. To him she was, anyways.

He found himself headed towards the counsellor’s quarters, which happened to be on the way past Margaret’s office. He glanced over towards the open door as he passed and noticed (Y/N) stood with Margaret. As if feeling his gaze, (Y/N) looked over and locked eyes with him. He smiled at her, hoping it looked as friendly as he meant it to. She smiled back, shyly, and quickly looked away.

That was all he needed to be wrapped around her fingers.

~~~~~~

That night, all the counsellors were gathered in the female counsellor’s cabin. It was majorly against Margaret’s rules, but that’s why they were doing it. If they were going to be forced into being Margaret’s anti-fun police for the summer, they wanted to have one last night of debauchery. That included weed, alcohol, and, if they could get away with it, sex.

When (Y/N) walked through the door, they were already well into their night of fun. Everyone turned to look at her as she took in the scene with wide eyes. She was coming from the showers, as evident by her dripping wet hair clinging to her neck and shoulders. She was dressed in a pair of shorts and a white tank top that was so thin that it was easy to make out the outline of her brown breasts against the white fabric. Xavier had to shuffle a pillow over his growing boner.

“The Virgin Mary shows skin,” Montana commented. “How scandalous.”

“What are you guys doing?” she asked.

“We’re trying to have some fun,” Montana responded. “Which won’t happen if your goodie two shoes ass goes to tell Margaret on us.”

“I won’t tell.” All eyes followed her towards her bed, the one that Xavier was sat on. She put her dirty clothes into the bag and sat next to him. “Pass me a beer.”

Her request shocked everyone. Ray grabbed a bottle from the cooler and passed it to (Y/N). “You drink beer?”

“Well...no. But I’ve drank the wine at church, so I figure that’s the same thing.”

“There’s wine in church?” Trevor asked.

(Y/N) nodded. “Communal wine. It’s supposed to be the blood of Christ.”

“You Bible humpers drink blood?” Ray asked. “You guys really are freaks!”

“No, it’s not - ” Xavier cut her off by putting a hand on her arm and shaking his head.

She sighed and opened the beer bottle. Her heart was hammering against her chest. What would her parents think if they found out she was drinking at camp? What would her pastor say? They had all been convinced that the camp was going to be a place of sin and tried to convince her not to go.

But she had spent her entire life being a good Christian girl. She followed everything her parents and priests had told her from the day she was born. This was the first time she had ever made a decision for herself. She was a young adult now. If she wanted to drink, then she could drink.

There’s always the option to pray for forgiveness once the summer ends, she reminded herself.

She brought the bottle to her lips and took a big mouthful. When she swallowed the thick liquid, she cringed and began to gag. Her fellow counsellors laughed at her reaction.

“Definitely not like wine,” she croaked.

“Here.” Brooke passed her some water. “I’ll make the beer go down easier, and it’ll wipe the taste from your mouth.”

(Y/N) accepted the water gratefully and took a sip.

The small mouthfuls of beer started working very quickly on her. By the time she had finished her first bottle of beer, (Y/N) was already feeling warm and fuzzy. She felt her body lull to the side against Xavier, who welcomed her with an arm around her shoulder, adding his bodily warmth to hers.

“Hey now, Virgin Mary, leave room for Jesus there,” Montana mocked.

“Shut the fuck up, Montana,” she retorted.

The curse was new on her tongue, but it tasted delicious as it spilled from her lips. Everyone seemed shocked and impressed by her choice of words, and she was shocked herself, but she was starting to like the feeling she was getting. Not just from the beer, but also from throwing caution to the wind and doing what most people her age did. Sure, she would likely feel some sort of guilt over the coming days about this night, but for now she felt like she was floating on cloud nine.

“You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?” Brooke asked her. “The drinking and cursing, I mean.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Never. My parents say cursing sounds unladylike, and binge drinking is kind of viewed as a sin, especially when you’re underaged.”

“Religion sounds boring,” Chet said.

“It is,” (Y/N) admitted, shocked by the fact that she really did believe that. Her whole life she had been a devout Christian, never once questioning her faith, but no one could deny how strict her Christian parents were, or how intolerant some of her devout family members and neighbors were. She had never been around people like the other counsellors before. She never knew what kind of life she could possibly have outside of her religion.

“Are you even allowed to have boyfriends?” Montana asked. “Is that a sin, too?”

“Having a boyfriend isn’t a sin, but it is awkward to try and have any form of PDA in front of parents or other adults,” (Y/N) said. “Even holding hands is awkward.”

“So have you ever been kissed?” Brooke asked.

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah, a couple times. It was very awkward, but so are most first kisses.”

“Have you ever had sex?” Montana asked. Suddenly, (Y/N) became shy again, which caused Montana to grin wickedly. “You haven’t, have you? You’re still a virgin!”

(Y/N) shrunk back against Xavier, who held her protectively towards him. “Knock it off, Montana.”

“What? I’m just stating a fact, and the fact is she’s a virgin. Poor thing will probably never know how good it feels to have a big dick all up inside of her.”

(Y/N)’s thighs clenched together at Montana’s words. Of course she had thought about sex before. She was in her early 20s, she had gone through the crazy hormonal stages of puberty where sex was the one thing on every teenager’s mind. But she never got to explore those urges. She had been taught her entire life that sex before marriage was the ultimate sin, and that if she tried to...relieve herself, so to speak, that she would also be condemned to Hell. But, boy, did she ever think of how badly she wanted someone to finally deflower her, if not just to make the sinful thoughts go away.

Her squirming definitely did not go unnoticed by Xavier, but he didn’t bring any attention to it. The last thing he wanted was for Montana to have more reasons to mock (Y/N).

“I wanna have sex,” she said in a soft voice. “But I want to be sure of it. I want it to be with someone I’m sure of.”

Xavier wasn’t sure if he imagined it or not, but he could’ve swore he saw her eyes flicker towards him when she said the last part.

No, there’s no way, he thought. We’ve barely had a conversation together, stop thinking so highly of yourself.

But...but what if she did?

He glanced down at her again, but her attention was drawn to whatever one of the others were saying.

Maybe I could figure this out later on tonight when everyone is gone, he thought, and the idea made him smirk to himself.

~~~~~~

The male counsellors went back to their own cabin once the night had come to an end. Xavier laid in his bed, starring at the ceiling as he waited to make sure everyone was asleep. Once the cabin was filled with soft breathing and snoring, he quickly got up and pulled on his shoes. He opened the rickety door as silently as he could, stopping to cringe when it let out a squeak anyways. When none of the others stirred, he continued on his mission.

All the girls were also sound asleep. Their cabin was nearly pitch black, with just some rays of white light shining in from the full moon.

(Y/N) was laying on her side, her hands tucked under her face as she breathed softly. Xavier couldn’t help but smile at her as he made his way towards her bed. She looked so beautiful and peaceful. Like an angel, for a lack of better words.

He knelt down next to her bed and lightly shook her. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake up. Xavier looked over his shoulder to make sure that Brooke and Montana were definitely asleep before shaking (Y/N) a little harder. She mumbled something incoherent before her eyes slowly blinked open. When she looked at Xavier, she let out a gasp and he quickly covered her mouth to stop her from making any other noises.

“Shh!” he said. “It’s just me.”

“What are you doing here?!” she whispered. “If you get caught you’ll be in big trouble!”

“No one is going to catch me. Margaret has been dead asleep since before we had our little party,” Xavier said, a cocky grin on his face. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“It couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No, because my response to the answer might need the cover of nightfall.” She looked at him in confusion, so he continued, “Earlier, when you were talking about losing your virginity to someone you’re sure of, did you look at me?”

She stared at him blankly. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Xavier, this can wait until morning.”

She went to roll over with her back to him, but he quickly took hold of her arms and stopped her from moving.

“I’m serious, (Y/N), I need to know,” he said. “Because if you genuinely meant that, I might have to take you up on that offer.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why? So you can brag to the others about taking the Christian girl’s virginity? I don’t think so.”

He pulled away from her, hurt by her accusation, but then realized that it was a very valid point. They barley knew each other and here he was, coming to her in the middle of the night because he thought she had inferred wanting to sleep with him. Even if he didn’t have the ill intentions that she thought he did, he clearly did not have any pure ones either.

“It’s not that at all,” he said. “I swear to you, (Y/N). I just...I’ve been very infatuated with you since we first met earlier, and that’s very unlike me because we’ve hardly talked to one another. But it’s the truth, I swear. I’m not just trying to get into your pants.”

(Y/N) rolled onto her back to look up at Xavier. Her face was unreadable, which was just making things worse. He wished she would say something, anything. Even if she just told him to fuck off, with that beautiful, innocent mouth of hers.

Okay, maybe she shouldn’t say that.

She sighed and propped herself up on her elbows. “Okay, yes I did look at you when I said that, because I would be okay with losing my virginity to you, Xavier.”

With the words officially out of her mouth, Xavier couldn’t help but pounce on her. He pressed his lips against hers, stopping whatever else was about to be sad. He got up onto the bed and positioned himself so that he was straddling her still covered body. He kissed her intensely and passionately, but not so much as to rush her or make her feel uncomfortable.

She settled into the kiss very quickly. It wasn’t the first time she had made out with someone. Again, she had been a teenager with wild hormones once. Just because she hadn’t gone all the way with anyone didn’t mean that she hadn’t at least got to second base a couple of times. Of course, she felt guilty afterwards because of her upbringing, but it always felt good in the moment. And, in this moment, it felt especially good to be kissing Xavier’s soft, plump lips like this.

But when she heard the sound of one of the girls rolling over in their beds, she quickly put a hand against his chest and pushed him back. “We can’t do this here. What if they wake up?”

“It’s so dark, they wouldn’t even know,” Xavier said. “And we’ll be quiet. Well, I will be anyways. I don’t know about you.”

She wanted to glare at him, but he quickly ducked his head down to start kissing her neck. She bit her lip to stop a moan from erupting from her mouth as she felt a tingling sensation between her legs.

She couldn’t lie, the thought of losing her virginity in her camp counsellor bunk while her other camp counsellors slept did sound very risky and naughty. It also sounded very cliché, which was what she wanted. If she was going to be giving into sin this summer, she may as well do it in the most cliché way possible.

Xavier slipped under the covers with her and continued to kiss down her body. He kissed around the exposed areas of her neck and chest, not wanting to push too far just yet by trying to get under her shirt. Even though he was trying to get into her pants, he still wanted to be a gentleman about it.

(Y/N) looked down at him as he disappeared under the blankets. She was confused at first. If he was planning to take her virginity, shouldn’t he be up here with her? Wasn’t that how sex worked?

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I want to make sure you’re ready before we get into it,” he responded. “I want to make you feel good first. Can I take these shorts off?”

She nodded, but then realized he couldn’t see her and said, “Yes.”

He curled his fingers around the waistband of her pants and pulled them, and her panties, down in one swift movement. She raised her hips so he could pull them down as far as her ankles. Despite the blankets still covering her lower half, she felt very naked. Even if no one else could see her if they happened to look over, she knew that Xavier could see her. And right now, he was very, very close to her.

She gasped and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth when she felt something wet against her core. “What was that?!”

“My tongue.”

(Y/N) quickly covered her mouth when she felt it against her again. She had never heard of this form of sexual intimacy before. When she was in high school, her mom had warned her about all of the “impure ways” boys would try to use her, which included them wanting to stick their penises in her mouth, but no one had ever mentioned a guy doing the same thing to her. It felt dirty, but also it felt so good.

She muffled her moans with both hands as Xavier continued to lick from her clit down to her tight, untouched hole. A wetness began pooling between her legs that he lapped up as if it were the first drink of water he had in weeks. Her body shuddered with pleasure every time his tongue connected with her. It was better than she ever could’ve imagined, and that just made her even more excited for the actual sex.

Something began to build in her stomach. A feeling she had never felt before. It felt like someone was inside of her, pushing something down from her stomach to get it out of her. She tried to tap Xavier to tell him, but she was afraid to lift her hand from her mouth in case she made a loud noise and woke the others.

“I can feel that you’re tightening up,” he said. “That means you’re getting close. Lean into it, beautiful. Let it happen. Cum all over my mouth.”

It was enough to send her toppling over the edge. She pressed her hands against her mouth as hard as she could as a scream of pleasure ripped from her lips. Xavier’s fingertips dug into her hips as he held her to him, taking in every bit of her juices that he could. He knew it was her first time having an orgasm, but he didn’t expect for her to become so wet and to finish so quickly just from his tongue. His dick twitched with excitement at the thought of being inside of her.

With one last kiss to her clit, Xavier began kissing up her stomach, lifting her shirt slightly as he left messy, wet marks over her belly, her chest, her neck, and finally getting to her face. Through the white moonlight, (Y/N) could see a glisten on his mouth and chin. Between her legs throbbed as she realized that was her slick on him.

He gently moved his hands away from her mouth so he could kiss her. The taste of his lips were much different, and she knew that was because that was the taste of her on him. It was all just so hot that she almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. She was sure she was dreaming it all, that she’d wake up in this bed alone and unsatisfied.

Xavier reached under the covers to start pulling down his own pants, but hesitated a moment. He pulled away from the kiss, (Y/N) trying to follow him with her own lips.

“Wait,” he said. “Before we go all the way, I have to check in one last time. Are you okay with this, (Y/N)?”

She nodded frantically. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please Xavier. Please.”

“Okay, but if you want to stop at all you tell me, okay? I know I just warmed you up, but it is going to hurt at first either way. If it’s too much, we stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

He sat up and pulled his pants down around his knees. His dick sprang free from its confides, standing painfully at attention in the moonlight. (Y/N) looked at it with wide eyes. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the first penis she’d see, but it was certainly a big one. She wondered how it would even fit inside of her.

Xavier placed his hands under her thighs and pulled them up so they were wrapped around his hips. The ran the head of his dick through the slick that was still left over from him having been between her legs. She whimpered at the feeling, quickly putting a hand over her mouth again. Both of them glanced over to make sure Brooke and Montana were still peacefully sleeping.

“I’m going to put it in now,” Xavier told her. “I’ll do it very slowly, okay?”

She nodded. He thrust his hips forwards a little, pushing just the tip of his cock into her. He hissed at the tight feeling around his already sensitive tip. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever last when she was already gripping him so tightly and he barely had the head of his dick inside of her.

(Y/N) gasped into her hand at the feeling. Xavier pushed until his head was completely inside of her, stretching her out. The stretch was definitely a painful, burning feeling. It was like her body knew he wasn’t supposed to be in there and wanted him out, but she wanted him in there. She had fantasized about this since the first time she had ever laid her eyes on Xavier - a time she knew he had definitely forgotten.

He lick his thumb and lowered it between them, pressing it against her clit and gently rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves. (Y/N) whimpered at the gesture.

“This should help make it feel better,” he told her. “Just until I can get all the way inside of you, okay?”

She nodded again. At this point, talking was definitely not happening. Any noise that were to come out of her mouth would just be a moan or a whimper of pleasure, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep the volume down without her hands over her mouth.

Xavier continued to push inside of her while gently rubbing circles into her clit. He looked between them and watched as his dick disappeared into her. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, trying to stop any sounds that might come out unintentionally. It felt so good inside of her that he already did not want the this to end. He just wanted to stay inside of her forever, feel her warm walls gripping around him, look at her beautiful face as it contorted in pure ecstasy.

When he was buried all the way inside of her, he leaned down and took her hand from her mouth so he could kiss her. He continued to rub her clit, but he kept himself deep inside of her so she could get used to his size. She moaned into the kiss, her body inadvertently jerking from the pleasure she was feeling. The motion caused Xavier’s hips to move forward to fill her again. It was just a slight movement, but it was enough that it drove Xavier wild.

“Do that again,” she whispered against his lips.

“What?”

“The way you moved your hips. Do it again, please. It felt really good.”

He smiled down at her and gently grinded his hips against hers. Her mouth hung open, but no sounds were coming now. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and that was all Xavier needed to tell him he was doing a good job.

He took his hand from between her legs so he could fully press himself against her. He captured her lips with his again and continued to gently thrust into her. The slow sensation was enough to make his orgasm build at a quicker rate than he would’ve liked, but he knew he wasn’t going to finish until she did. He wanted to feel her cum around him at least once before he would let himself finish.

Luckily, he could feel that familiar tightening feeling; where her walls started grasping at him tighter than before and he could feel her stomach tensing beneath him.

“Remember what I said earlier,” he whispered. “Just let it happen. Let me feel you cum all over this dick.”

She nodded, soft whimpers coming from her mouth. It wasn’t too long afterwards that he felt her clenching around him so tightly that he was sure she was going to rip his dick off just with her pussy. He kissed her hard, muffling her cries of pleasure. His hips were stilled as he let her ride out her climax, knowing that if he were to move anymore he’d definitely cum, too, and he wasn’t going to cum inside of her. That was too dangerous. He didn’t want to be responsible for any sort of backlash from her parents once she got home from camp, even if that ship had already sailed.

When the feeling of her quivering became too much, Xavier quickly pulled out of her and sat up on his knees again. He pushed her tank top up just enough to expose her belly and the underside of her boobs. It only took a few pumps of his hand, slick from her juices over his dick, before he was exploding over her stomach. He threw his head back, letting out a quiet groan.

They both were still, panting to catch their breaths. Xavier looked down at (Y/N), now covered in his seat, and he felt his dick twitch again. If he could take a picture of this moment, he would. And he would’ve stuck it in his wallet so he could look at it all the damn time.

He reached for her discarded towel from earlier that night and wiped her off. She hissed when he wiped between her legs, and he mumbled as soft, “Sorry.”

They both pulled their pants back up and got themselves straightened away before Xavier laid down next to her. He figured he could spare a few moments just to cuddle up close to her before he would have to run back to his cabin and his bed to try and get some sleep. (Y/N) rolled into his chest, taking in his warmth and the scent of him that was quickly becoming her favorite scent; the smell of his hair paste and the sweet cologne he wore. She wished she could combine them together into a perfume that she would wear for the rest of her life.

It was silent for some time except for the soft breathing of her bunkmates and the occasional snore that came from Brooke. Once her head had finally stopped feeling lightheaded, (Y/N) decided it was time to confess to Xavier.

“I’ve seen you before, you know.”

He moved so he could look down at her. “What?”

“I was in one of your aerobics classes,” she said. “Not very long ago, maybe a few months ago? One of my friends signed us up because she heard it was a good way to stay in shape.”

“I...I feel so bad to say that I don’t...remember,” Xavier said. He was sure he would’ve remembered seeing this beautiful specimen in one of his classes. He saw so many faces every day, but he always remembered the prettiest ones, and (Y/N) was definitely a face to remember.

“I wasn’t in it long enough to be remembered,” she admitted. “We walked in, and I saw you and...well...I started feeling...impure things when I saw you in your tight suit doing all those hip movements and stuff. You were in the middle of another class so we had to wait. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to start our class because my friend’s parents walked in to bring her something she had forgotten and saw the way everyone was dressed and how they were all moving. They were appalled. They dragged us out and brought us home. Told my parents, who grounded me for a week because of it. They claimed that we were trying to behind their backs, but I truly had no idea what I was in for when I agreed to go.”

Xavier cringed. He felt terrible hearing the way (Y/N) must’ve lived her entire life. Having to be afraid of mistakenly doing something “impure” or “sinful” and getting punished for it, even if the “sinful” things were just basic things that happen in life. He wished he could’ve taken away all those bad times from her memory and replace them with good ones; memories where (Y/N) could just be a normal person and not have to worry about God’s wrath or whatever they said in churches.

“That’s why I glanced at you when we were talking about sex,” (Y/N) continued. “Because...because I had fantasies about this very situation happening since the day I first saw you.”

Xavier couldn’t help but smirk proudly at that. “And did the actual thing live up to your expectations?”

She giggled. “Majorly.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

There was another moment of silence before Xavier added, “It doesn’t have to be a one time thing, though.”

(Y/N) turned to rest her chin on his chest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...maybe, once the summer ends, we could go on some proper dates. Maybe...actually be a couple?”

(Y/N)’s eyes twinkled in the moonlight as she looked at him. He smiled at how beautiful she was, and at how lucky he was to be the one she was looking at.

“Really?” she asked.

“Only if you want to,” he responded.

Her reply was by attacking his face with kisses. He chuckled as she left not one inch of his face unkissed, ending with her lips against his.

“That’s a yes, by the way,” she said.

“I could tell,” he said. “I should go before I get in trouble for being here.”

“I guess you should.”

He didn’t move to leave right away. He continued to gaze into her eyes for a moment longer, before kissing her one last time and getting up from her bed. He couldn’t help but looking back at her as he made his way towards the door. She was still smiling at him as he finally allowed the door to swing shut behind him, obstructing his view of her.

He couldn’t help but stand outside the door for a moment, letting out a long, happy sigh, before making his way back to the boy’s cabin.

I’ve never written poc!reader before so I hope this is okay! I usually don’t describe anything with my general x reader fics because I want them to be inclusive for everyone, but I don’t mind writing specific ones like this when asked!

[evanswifeily]

Im just so in love with Evan peters how do I stop this obsession with this man

Honestly I don’t know. I’m literally over foot for him. My family and friends are so pissed off at me for talking about him ALL THE TIME.

Can someone please pay for my therapy?

Maybe a therapy will help with my obsession…

[finniestoncrane]

Could you possibly write a smut thingy with Egon Spengler as the reader(female) professor? Love your work!!

Egon Spengler x Fem!Professor!Reader, word count: 1k i am refreshing my memory on learning styles and turning my least favourite word into a positive thing with this one anon lmao ❤ he gog on my ped until i geeeeeeeeee👻 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: i've attmpted a bold reader once more, confident reader, masturbation/handjob, ruined orgasm ehehehe

As your students filtered out of the small seminar room, you noticed Egon trying to push against the currents, standing a whole foot taller than most of them, some of them more, and catching your eye with a small, awkward smile as he managed to get through the throngs.

He stood silently for a moment, awkwardly fiddling with his glasses before he spoke to you.

"Your attendance is impressive."

"Is that surprising?"

You teased him with a coy smile, watching the way he was flustered immediately. He was usually so firm, unflappable, especially given his line of research, but around you he seemed to lose all confidence.

"N-no, I was admiring it. Pointing it out. That almost seemed like more students going out than have your class on their schedules.

"What can I say? I know how to keep them interested."

You turned, walking to the desk in the corner of the room with a distinct wiggle to your hips. Egon's pupils widened as he watched you, mumbling to himself.

"I can see why."

"How can I help you, Doctor Spengler?"

He was snapped out of his daze, eyes flitting swiftly back up to meet yours in a panic. Not only had he been caught drooling over your backside, now he had to think of a lie on the spot.

"Uh... I wanted to... discuss with you the... importance of..."

It hit him, a strike of inspiration, a good follow-through from his previous statement.

"... The importance of adapting your teaching methods in order to engage with the largest proportion of students. I imagine it's something you're very familiar with, given how interested your students are. Is this something you work on? Or does it come naturally?"

You smiled softly, watching as he relaxed into his excuse and deciding to punish him, just a little, for not being more straightforward with you.

"Well, I think it might be slightly natural on my part. I can read people very well, Doctor Spengler."

"You can?"

He tensed up as you walked out from behind the desk, taking slow, purposeful steps towards him.

"Oh yeah, I know what's going on inside their minds. What they need... or what they want. You might even consider me an example of your psychic studies."

He swallowed deeply, pronounced Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he pushed his nerves down, his face remaining as calm as was possible in the face of your bold approach. You were close to him, and only coming closer, backing him into the board on the wall, with nowhere else to go.

"So... how does this help with your students?"

Egon's efforts to keep up the facade were admirable, but you could see the slight blush on his cheeks, the way his eyes darted from your body to the ceiling, and youhad to admit that this more sheepish nature, as opposed to his often blunt and dry responses, was doing a lot for you.

"It helps to know how best to reach them. I know that some students prefer to listen and learn, that works for a majority. Audio and visual learning is the sort of default state. But others need a different approach, and it's important to facilitate that. I find it benefits those who can't just ask for help to offer them a more... tailored approach of my own accord."

He seemed to get the message, as his cheeks flushed a deeper hue, his glasses steaming up slightly in the center of the lenses. Sensing that you were perhaps offering a more suggestive opportunity to him than he had expected, he continued to play along.

"Can you... can you provide an example?"

"Of course, Doctor Spengler, let's take you for example! I think that you're probably the kind of person who learns better in a one-on-one environment. Perhaps you would be better suited to some private tutelage."

Ever stoic in appearance, even now as he felt his pants beginning to tent with his growing arousal, Egon nodded, considerate and firm.

"Yes, that does sound very appropriate."

"Mhm... and you strike me as a kinesthetic learner... Someone who requires a very tactile, hands on approach..."

He had begun to agree with you, but the words were strangled into a soft yelp as your hand met his crotch. You felt his cock pulsing against your palm, a twitch of the length as your fingers travelled up towards the belt of his brown slacks.

Undoing it with ease, you turned your attention to his fly, undoing it and reaching into the fabric to pull his cock free. His body fell against the wall, completely undone by that first gesture, quivering as you began to stroke him.

A heat rose within him, bringing with it a confidence that bolstered his own movements as he leaned his head down, nuzzling against your neck. His soft curls tickled at your skin, his breath soft, panting, into your ear as you worked his cock.

Egon's hands pulled at your waist, tugging you, bringing you closer to his body, wanting to feel you on him as he threatened to reach his climax. But as he began to cling tighter to you, body keening, you pulled away, watching him stumble after you. He bucked his hips once into the air, an instinctual urge to search for friction, to continue his impending orgasm, but instead all he found was your knowing, mischievous smile, arms folded across your body, eyes lidded as you watched him push his cock back into his pants.

"I do think that's all we have time for, unfortunately. But did you learn anything valuable from our discussion, Doctor Spengler?"

He grumbled a little, disappointment on his face.

"I think I did."

"Good. Well. If you ever need to recap anything, my office door is always open."

As you walked away from him, he raised an eyebrow, smiling with suspicion, but hope. He was quick to follow you, however, following like a lost puppy. If you weren't going to your office now, then at least he could take a seat outside and wait for you. He was very willing to put off the rest of his day's work for the chance at some more of your private tutoring.

[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..."

[iamsherlockholmesyet]

(Another excerpt from one of my fanfics) Elementary

— I miss London. But New York isn’t too bad… — Watson comments.

—Here we have water. Free water. — Holmes said.

— Mm… But in London too. We have tap water. It's clear water too. I don't like the flow of carriages here. There are many… We almost died because of a hurry cab.

— Well, nevertheless, we won’t die of thirst here. — Sherlock, with satire, replied. His nasal laugh convinced Watson to laugh along without even realizing it.

After ordering their respective pastas, with a rich sauce of tomatoes well crushed with spices, Sherlock lit a cigarette while Watson served them with wine.

— Thank you, friend Watson.

— Oh, Holmes. It's a delight to stay here with you. I can do this all my life.

— Mmhm… — Sherlock groaned slightly in surprise, as he laughed, releasing the smoke. — Thank you, my dear Watson.

After a few seconds of pondering the few exchanged sentences, John Watson made an objection.

—Holmes?

—Yes?

— Friend? Are you sure?

— Oh… — Sherlock laughed again, showing his teeth as he thought. — And how can I call you, my dear?

— I want to be called by… Love.

Sherlock could be compared to a chameleon absorbing the color red, given how his skin flushed after John's request, but, of course… John didn't say that calmly. He demanded with adorable nervousness, and his eyes were wider with passion towards his Holmes.

— Ok, my beloved Watson. So, the way you want, I'll call you, love. My love.

— Elementary, my dear Holmes. — John said, with such conviction.

Dinner was splendid, as Sherlock would say. What made it tastier was not the seasoning, nor the special wine, but Watson's smiles, while Sherlock chattered about his skills and deduced the waiter, or when Holmes called him love with more confidence. Holmes was feeling used to saying that word even when he didnt understand the love with the amount of meaning the people put into it. He knew the love like a distant relative. He had already heard about the love and even thought he felt it, but now, he could understand with more certainty what that distant relative was about, who was so absent from him, out of fear. A repressed emotion, a rejected feeling. Sherlock Holmes was learning to be comfortable with the love, which, for a moment, represented fear, arrest, and death. Enjoying Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, Holmes held Watson's hand under the table, looking into his eyes. The dissonances between the chords in the song made him feel nervous more acutely, but when the calm moment of the song came confusingly between the trips from B major to B minor, he felt his heart warm.

— Watson?

— Mmm?

— We should go back to the hotel…