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queenimmadolla · 1 year ago

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𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

“Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around.

Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

“I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.”

“Wha’?”

“Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

“Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair.

While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him.

Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him.

The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention.

Someone.

Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side.

Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it.

Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough.

Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie.

He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

“It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

NOW, 1989

“Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

“Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand.

When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying.

You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job.

You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan.

So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

Your mother was murdered.

Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional.

The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery.

Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself.

You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace.

The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells.

He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting.

So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead.

“Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

It was a little odd, but you did.

When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

“I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

“I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him.

You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

“Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

“Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

“YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring.

“He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

“Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

“Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.”

Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss.

“I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked.

“I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

“Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.”

You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

“It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that.

“That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.”

Didn’t feel like it.

Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

“No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

“Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

“You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands.

“And I can. Please, let me do this.”

You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

“It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it.

You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

“So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject.

“It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university.

Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

“See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?”

You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, spill.”

Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

“Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!”

This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile.

“Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush.

“Steve Harrington.”

“STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

“Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

“He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

“Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

“Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

“And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again.

“Does he flirt with you?”

“No.”

“See him flirt with any girls?”

“Nope.”

“Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

“Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

“He’s on the spectrum?”

Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

It got quiet for a few moments.

”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most.

She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

“Reefer Rick?”

“Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

Munson.

You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

“I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

“How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

“Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

“Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

“No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

“How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

“H-He’s your favorite…?”

“Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

“You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you.

“Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

“He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea.

“Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

Maybe a drink would calm you down.

You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

“The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now.

“What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

“Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

Oh, shit.

Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

”Funny seeing you here.”

You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

“Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off.

“It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

“I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

“Oh.”

He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

OH, THANK FUCK.

“Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

“So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

“Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

“Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

“Hey, Carol.”

Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

“You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl.

“Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

“Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

“You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

“I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

“Oopsie.”

But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

“Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy.

Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning.

You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

“You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

“You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

“Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

“You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

“I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

“Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

“Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it.

Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

“You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

“Wall.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

“Great Wall of China.”

Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

“Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense.

Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

“Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing.

“Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

“Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

“Does that feel good?”

You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.”

Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

“I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within.

She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

“Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you.

His right arm was out, palm up.

He was waiting for you.

You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

“Sissy. . .”

“Sissy…”

“SISSY!”

You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect.

What the hell?

“You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways.

You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

“It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

“Oh my god…”

“So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

“Ooh, your knees…”

You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

“I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

“Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

“You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist.

“Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once.

“Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

“It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

“Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

“Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

“It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

“Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

“That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

“Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

“I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

“─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

“And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing.

“That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning.

You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

“I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

“Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

“THAT WE DO!”

You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

“What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

“Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

“Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

“Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

“Mm. White wine?”

It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

“Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

“He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

You shot him a glare.

“Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers.

You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

Then your eyes snapped open.

Oh, god. You were a loser.

After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

“Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

“Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

“Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation.

“She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

“I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

“Yes, we got a free soda!”

Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

“Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

“Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

“Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

“You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

“All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.”

“Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

“I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

“I bet you can.”

After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house.

Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder.

And it was coming from outside your front door.

You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home.

You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

“Uuuhhhnng…”

This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

“Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

“OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life.

“Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!”

You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs.

You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

“Stop it!”

“Leave me alone!”

“Go away, I’m just a girl!”

The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located.

On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature.

You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it.

Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

“It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.”

He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation,

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

“Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

“I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

“Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

“Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

“C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

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

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theballadofharkness · 2 months ago

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Agatha Harkness VS Salem: The Kittening, Karma’s a Witch

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem! reader

Summary: When you brings home a stray kitten Agatha can’t say no to those big pleading eyes and putting lips. What she doesn’t know is that she has met her new mortal enemy, transforming her house in a battleground in which she is fighting for your attention. But now, the tables have turned and it is time for you to feel the stab of jealousy.

Word Count: 7.6K

Warnings: smut warning! Not very explicit but enough to warrant a warning, part 4 will be more explicit however xo

A/N: Apologies for the late update my loves, work has been a lot but I’ve been able to write lots of things I’m excited to publish coming soon🪻💜

The house was quiet when you stepped inside. Warm, golden sunlight spilled through the windows, painting long afternoon shadows across the floorboards. The air smelled faintly of chamomile, old paper, and something sweet, maybe the last of the honey cake you’d left cooling on the counter that morning. The silence was peaceful, not empty. The kind of stillness that whispered something good was happening.

You toed off your boots and walked further into the house, your arms full of fresh sage bundles from the herb shop, and something already bubbling with excitement in your chest. You’d only been out a few hours running errands, a quiet walk through the market, a brief stop to pick up more beeswax candles. But you’d been thinking of them the whole time.

Agatha and Salem.

The unlikeliest duo. The witch and the gremlin. Oil and water. Fire and… small, attention seeking furball.

You rounded the corner into the living room, adjusting your bundles of herbs and stopped cold. There she was. There they were.

Agatha lounged across the velvet sofa like a queen of chaos at rest. Her hair was down, curling soft over her shoulders. Her robe was half-open, revealing long legs stretched across the cushions and one arm draped lazily over the backrest. Her other hand was… occupied.

Gently. Absentmindedly. Affectionately stroking the soft black fluff curled up on her stomach. Salem. He was purring, deep and content and impossibly smug.

A half-finished cup of tea rested on the side table. The television played some old black-and-white film, the dialogue low and hazy, but Agatha wasn’t really watching. She was just… petting him. Gazing down at him with the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

“Look at my two babies,” you say dreamily, setting your cup down and slipping into the room. “I never thought this day would come.”

Agatha lifts her gaze with that slow, amused smirk. “Mhm. It’s disgusting, isn’t it?”

But the way she scratches just under Salem’s chin like she’s been doing it her whole life? The way he stretches out, blissed beyond measure in her lap?

Yeah. She’s in deep.

You stepped closer, a bright grin already spreading across your face. “You’re cuddling.”

“I am not,” she said, perfectly deadpan.

“You are!”

“I am not, darling.”

You practically floated across the room, dropping the sage onto the chair as you came to kneel by the sofa. You looked up at her, positively glowing, your fingers clasped under your chin.

“He’s sleeping on you,” you breathed. “That’s not tolerating. That’s bonding.”

Agatha gave a low, dismissive scoff and returned her attention to the TV though, her hand never stopped stroking between Salem’s tiny ears. “He got tired of attacking the curtains and climbed on top of me. I was merely… trapped.”

You bit your lip to keep from squealing. “Trapped,” you repeated. “By a kitten.”

“He has claws.”

“So do you,” you giggled.

She looked at you from the corner of her eye, lips twitching. “He’s manipulative.”

“He’s a cat.”

“He bit me.”

You reached up to stroke her calf and tilted your head. “You let him stay.”

She sniffed, lifting her chin. “I didn’t want to disrupt his nap. He’s annoying when he’s cranky.”

You blinked slowly. “Agatha.”

“What.”

“You loooove him.”

“I tolerate him.”

You climbed onto the edge of the sofa, sitting beside her folded legs, close enough to see the way her fingertips slowed when they passed over the soft curve of Salem’s back. Close enough to hear the softness in her voice, even when she tried to sound exasperated.

“No,” you said sweetly, leaning in close. “You love him.”

Agatha gave you a look. The kind she usually reserved for low-level demons and burnt pastries. “I do not.”

You booped her nose with your fingertip.

“You do.”

She caught your wrist lazily, holding it there as she raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You beamed. “I know. And now you love him, too.”

Salem stretched in her lap like a smug little prince, tail flicking as if to emphasize the point. Agatha narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re a tiny warlock in disguise. I can feel it.”

Salem yawned.

Agatha sighed.

You curled up beside her, your head resting on her shoulder, gaze dropping to her hand as it resumed its gentle rhythm along the kitten’s back.

“Look at my little family,” you whispered, utterly content. “My wife. My son.”

“I’m going to hex your tea,” Agatha muttered.

But she didn’t stop petting him.

Not for a second.

The kettle whistled low and steady, steam curling into the sunlit kitchen like a blessing. You reached for the handle with careful fingers, your other hand already holding your favorite chipped mug, the one Agatha pretended to hate but never threw away. You’d lined up fresh herbs from your morning foraging, the scent of wild mint and chamomile mingling in the air, grounding, familiar.

You were barefoot on the warm floorboards, the hem of Agatha’s shirt brushing just above your thighs. It hung low, wide at the neck, sleeves rolled sloppily up your arms. One of the buttons was missing. You liked it that way. It felt lived in, hers and now yours.

The morning light made you glow, all soft skin and mussed hair, eyes heavy from sleep, mouth still kiss-bruised from last night. Your hips swayed faintly as you stirred honey into the tea, moving to some quiet rhythm in your head. The music of a slow, safe morning.

You were waiting.

Any second now and you’d feel her behind you.

Agatha always came into the kitchen like a spell: silent, magnetic, unavoidable. She’d slip her arms around your waist, press her face into your hair, hum against your neck. Sometimes she’d call you her darling, sometimes her little witch, sometimes when her voice was warm and low and still thick with sleep she’d just murmur, “There’s my baby.”

You knew it was coming. As soon as you felt her enter the room the air shifted. You straightened a little, smiling to yourself as you finished stirring your tea, spine already arching the tiniest bit, just enough to make it easier for her to wrap around you. You bit your lip. Waited.

Then you heard it, “there’s my baby.”

A whisper. A purr. That voice.

Your cheeks flushed instantly. You smiled, dreamy and shy, your breath catching. Your eyes fluttered closed, anticipation rushing through you like a little wave. And then…

Nothing.

No arms.

No warmth.

No kiss to the back of your neck.

You blinked, turning slightly in confusion. And then you saw her. Not behind you, but across the room, holding Salem. Cradling him against her chest, one hand under his little bottom, the other stroking along his tiny head. He was purring like a chainsaw, all smug and settled. Agatha was smiling down at him like he was the moon and stars wrapped in fur.

You stared.

Agatha didn’t even look up. “You’re up early, little monster,” she murmured, brushing her nose against Salem’s head. “Did you come looking for your mama?”

Salem sneezed.

Agatha laughed.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Your heart stuttered a little in your chest.

She hadn’t even seen you.

You stood there in her shirt, bare-legged, sleepy and soft and so ready to melt into her touch, and she was across the kitchen, nuzzling the cat.

You cleared your throat lightly. “Good morning,” you offered, voice gentler than you meant.

Agatha looked up absently. “Mmm, morning,” she said, distracted. “He was at the foot of the bed when I woke up. I think he missed me.”

You wrapped your fingers tighter around the mug, forcing a smile. “Yeah. He… does that.”

You turned back to the counter and took a sip of your tea, letting the steam hide your expression. You kept your back to her. You weren’t even sure why. Maybe because you didn’t want her to see the flicker of hurt you couldn’t quite blink away.

She used to say you were the one who looked the most beautiful thing in the morning. She used to whisper, ‘There’s my baby’ and mean you. You stirred your tea again, even though it didn’t need it. Behind you, she was still cooing.

You tuned her out. Tried to, anyway. Tried not to think about the way your skin suddenly felt cooler without her touch. The way your thighs shifted uncomfortably, suddenly self-conscious. The way you felt like you’d just stepped outside of your own moment.

You didn’t say anything else that morning.

You finished your tea. Watered the kitchen plants. Cleaned up the tea leaves that always stuck to the counter. Agatha eventually let Salem down and wandered off to check her spellwork room, humming to herself.

She kissed your cheek absently as she passed.

You leaned into it without thinking, but the moment had already passed. And something in your chest felt… quieter.

Not hurt. Not yet.

Just a little hollow.

A little missed.

The living room glowed with late afternoon light, warm and drowsy, the kind that made everything feel a little slower, a little softer. The fire in the hearth crackled gently. The house was quiet. Peaceful.

You padded in from the hallway, still in that same oversized shirt of Agatha’s, the sleeves too long, hem brushing the backs of your thighs, your hair loose and your cheeks pink from your post-nap haze. You were the picture of sleepy domestic bliss, glowing like something out of a dream.

And you were so ready to curl up with your wife. All day, you’d been craving it. The press of her side. The smell of her perfume. The soft scrape of her fingers absentmindedly petting your hair while she read, the occasional kiss to your temple without even looking up from her book. You’d imagined it as you drifted off earlier, your head on her lap, her voice murmuring whatever she was reading, her hand on your back.

You turned the corner, smiling already, then stopped, your smile faltering.

Agatha was stretched out along the velvet sofa, one leg tucked under her, robe loose around her shoulders. A book hovered in front of her, turning its own pages with a flick of silent spellwork. Her eyes were scanning lazily over the text, sharp and serene. Then there was Salem, sprawled across her lap like he paid rent.

Flat on his back, little paws twitching, tail flicking contentedly, his head tucked right under her hand. And her hand, the hand that should’ve been stroking your hair, was rhythmically grazing down his fuzzy little belly as she read.

You blinked, tilting your head with a soft frown like a confused puppy. You were quiet at first. Just watching. And then, before you even realized it, your lips pushed into the softest pout.

You hovered at the edge of the room, hands tucked into the sleeves of your shirt, voice small. “I was gonna sit with you…”

Agatha didn’t even look up from her book. “There’s another chair.”

You blinked. “But… I always sit with you.”

She turned the page.

Salem snored. Snored like he wasn’t the root of all your current problems. You stared at them, heart dropping a little, and took a tentative step forward. “He’s in my spot.”

Agatha’s lips twitched, but she kept her face perfectly neutral. “He was here first, darling.”

You pouted harder.

She finally looked over at you, and the moment she saw your face, your big glossy eyes and that little furrow in your brow, she nearly burst into flames.

Because oh.

Oh, the payoff.

This was what she’d looked like, wasn’t it? All those weeks ago when you used to cradle that kitten to your chest like he was made of stars and forget your wife even existed? When she watched you kiss his tiny ears and murmur sweet nothings while she sat there, ignored, seething in silence?

This was karma.

You didn’t even mean to make a scene.

But the moment Salem blinked up at you from Agatha’s lap, his smug little fuzzy body all curled up where you were supposed to be, something in you snapped.

It was soft. Quiet. But unmistakable.

The need. The ache. The burn to be there instead.

You scooped him off her lap with a quiet “excuse me,” as if you weren’t throwing a fit, and deposited him on the rug like a polite exorcism. He made a mildly offended chirp as he landed, but you ignored it.

You were already climbing onto the sofa.

Onto her. Into your rightful place.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, delight curling at the corners of her mouth as you climbed into her lap. Not sat beside her, not nestled gently. You straddled her, your thighs sliding over hers, that big shirt slipping up high enough to make her very aware you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

She set her book down, slowly. “Well, hello.”

You didn’t answer, you just kissed her. Hot. Messy. Hungry.

Your mouth found hers like you were making up for every second you’d been replaced- every coo, every scratch behind Salem’s ears, every time she’d kissed his head instead of yours.

Your hands slipped into her hair, nails grazing her scalp, and your hips rocked, against her thigh.

Agatha stifled a groan.

You were supposed to be the sweet one. The floaty, dreamy, gentle little thing who whispered love spells into tea and painted sigils in flower petals. But this? This was feral. And all for her.

She kissed you back once, slow and filthy, before pulling back just enough to look at you.

“Jealous much?” she asked, voice smug, eyes shining.

You scowled, flushed and breathless. “He was in my spot.”

“I told you he was comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” you huffed, shifting your hips again, deliberately. Her thigh slid between your legs, and your breath hitched.

Agatha’s fingers curled around your hips. “Oh, honey,” she said, low and dark and thrilled. “You’re more than comfortable.”

You didn’t answer. You just dragged your mouth down her jaw, to her throat, kissing and sucking like you were trying to leave proof of your possession. Her skin flushed pink. Her pulse jumped.

Your thighs trembled as you rocked, slow and needy, against the muscle of her leg. That thin, teasing friction.

Agatha couldn’t stop the smirk blooming on her face. This is gold, she thought.

Actual gold.

Because here you were, her pouty, jealous little wife, writhing in her lap, desperate to remind her who she belonged to. Her voice was whiny, your movements clumsy with need, and Agatha had never been more delighted in her life.

She leaned back against the sofa, completely relaxed, letting you take what you needed.

“You gonna make yourself come like this?” she asked, cocking her head as you whimpered into her throat. “Grinding on Mommy’s thigh like a needy little thing?”

Your eyes fluttered open, wide and dazed and so close to snapping.

“Thought so,” she murmured.

And then, without warning… Mrrrow.

You both looked down.

Salem, now sprawled on the rug, was pawing at Agatha’s robe, trying to climb up again.

Agatha blinked. Then looked up at you, mischief sparking. “Oh dear,” she drawled. “I think someone wants his spot back.”

You froze.

Still in her lap. Still flushed. Still soaking wet against her leg. And Agatha was grinning.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you dare pick him up.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

But in her head? She was already plotting. Already thinking how the tables have turned, she thought smugly, petting her jealous little wife while the kitten sulked on the floor. She’d give it a few more days. Just enough to really push your buttons.

Then maybe… just maybe… she’d let you have your lap privileges back.

Maybe.

She pressed a kiss to your temple and let her hands wander low on your back.

“I have to say,” she whispered, lips brushing your ear, “jealousy looks very good on you.”

You were stirring the roasted root vegetables when the clock struck seven.

Not that you were counting.

But it had been hours since you last saw Agatha. You’d washed the sheets, hung the laundry, wiped down the altar, organized the herbs, dusted the ceiling corners (the absolute worst), and made dinner from scratch.

All in one of her old shirts. No pants. Hair up in a scarf. Dreamy and flushed from the days chores, humming softly to yourself. You even left her a note on the kitchen chalkboard:

“Dinner at 6:30. Hope your spellwork goes well, baby!”

Nothing.

Now it was seven, and the food was getting cold, and the only sound in the house was the faint echo of Salem purring somewhere in the walls, like the little shadow he was. You set the wooden spoon down, wiped your hands on your apron, and called softly down the hallway:

“Agatha? Dinner!”

No reply.

You raised your voice a little. “Aggie!”

Still nothing.

You sighed, a tiny line forming between your brows. You could feel the faint thrum of magic coming from the basement. Of course. That’s where she was.

You trudged down the spiral stairs, bare feet cool against the stone, your mood dropping with every step. The warm light of the kitchen faded behind you, replaced by flickering candlelight and the earthy scent of sage and wax and chalk.

“Agatha,” you tried again as you reached the bottom. “Dinner is-”

You stopped, blinking rapidly, your mouth dropping open in horror. Because there she was, sitting at her coven table, surrounded by open spell books and incense smoke, head bent in deep concentration over…

A cat collar.

Not just any collar. Velvet. Black, of course. Embroidered with protective runes in silver thread, a small crescent moon charm floating gently above it as she murmured under her breath. Gemstones, real ones, set into the band. Onyx. Amethyst. A tiny protection crystal that looked freshly cut.

Salem sat smugly on the table beside her, tail wrapped neatly around his paws like he knew what was happening.

You stood in stunned silence for a moment before saying flatly, “are you serious?”

Agatha didn’t even look up. “Hm?”

“Are you serious?”

Her fingers traced another rune. “You’ll have to be more specific, darling.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re telling me I’ve spent the entire day cleaning the house alone, our house, doing your laundry, folding your silk robes, making your favorite dinner, and the reason you didn’t answer me for three hours is because you’re… bedazzling a protection collar for the cat?”

Agatha finally glanced up.

And she smiled. Slow. Wicked. Satisfied.

You blinked. “I- wha- You never even enchanted my wedding ring.”

She paused. “If you wanted me to enchant your jewelry, love,” she purred, “you only had to ask.”

You stared at her. “You never enchanted my wedding ring, Agatha. But the cat gets an enchanted collar.”

She looked very pleased with herself now. “Well. You are more powerful than the average kitten.”

You gaped. Like actually gaped. You could feel your mouth opening and closing like a fish and you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Agatha leaned her chin in her hand, elbow on the table, gaze dragging down the length of you in her old shirt and apron, flushed and barefoot from doing all the domestic chores while she magicked her tiny hellbeast a couture-level collar.

“Oh, honey,” she said sweetly. “You’re not jealous of a cat, are you?”

You crossed your arms. “I’m not.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No!”

She tapped a finger to her lip. “Because it feels like you are.”

“I’m not!” you squeaked, trying not to blush as your foot nudged a stray gemstone across the floor. “It’s just- it’s dinner! And I thought you’d want to, y’know, eat it. With your wife.”

Agatha clicked her tongue. “I will. Once I finish this.”

You sniffed. Tried not to pout. Failed.

“You could have at least helped me fold the sheets,” you mumbled, hugging your arms tighter around your chest. “Or set the table. Or come check on me. I- ”

You bit your lip, stopping yourself before you sounded too hysterical.

Agatha saw it.

Saw the way your voice cracked just a little. Saw the way you stood there, glowing with magic and effort and sweat and devotion, trying so hard not to look like a kicked puppy.

And oh, she thrived.

She stood slowly, crossing the room in that silk-robe-and-witchcraft way that made her look like temptation wrapped in smoke. She stopped just in front of you, close enough to touch.

“You’re adorable when you’re sulking,” she said, voice low.

“I’m not sulking.”

“You are. You’re pouting. Look at that little face.”

You tried to look away.

She caught your chin and turned you back to her with one finger, smiling like the devil.

“I could enchant your ring, you know,” she murmured, thumb brushing the bare gold band. “Warding, protection, a little glamour charm…”

You swallowed.

“Then why haven’t you?”

Agatha tilted her head, grinning. “Because you weren’t jealous enough yet.”

You stared.

She winked.

And that was when you realized that she wanted this. She was doing this on purpose. “Oh my god,” you whispered. “You’re tormenting me.”

She leaned in, mouth brushing your ear. “Karma’s a witch, baby.”

You woke to the sound of a soft, steady purr and the weight of absence.

At first, you weren’t sure what felt off. The bed was warm. The morning light poured in through the gauzy curtains like syrup. Your body still buzzed faintly from dreams you couldn’t quite remember. And yet…

You turned your head.

And saw it.

Agatha, beautiful and radiant even in her sleep, lay curled on her side. Her hair fell in a loose wave across the pillow, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, lips parted in that soft, unconscious pout she never let you tease her for. She looked peaceful. She looked perfect.

But you weren’t what she was holding.

It was Salem.

The little void beast had wedged himself between her breasts like a smug satin pillow, his paws tucked up near her collarbone, his purring deafening in the quiet room. Agatha’s arm was slung protectively around him, her fingers curled lightly against his side. You blinked. Your chest went tight. It wasn’t fair, you told yourself. It was just a cat. He was warm. He was cuddly. He didn’t mean anything by it. And Agatha, she was yours. You knew that.

But something about the picture in front of you- your wife, your bed, your place taken, cut you more than you wanted to admit. And the worst part? She looked so content.

You laid there a moment longer, stomach twisting, before quietly slipping out of bed. You didn’t want to disturb her. You didn’t want her to see your face.

You made breakfast the way you always did. Quietly. Thoughtfully. Your hair was still tousled from sleep, tied back with one of Agatha’s silk ribbons. You wore her sweater, sleeves falling over your hands, bare legs just peeking out beneath the hem. You looked soft. Dreamy. The kind of girl a wife should wrap her arms around and kiss immediately.

But she didn’t come down right away.

And when she did?

She brought the cat.

Salem rode on her shoulder like a little prince, tail flicking as she walked into the kitchen with a smirk on her lips.

You were already plating up eggs and herbs, pouring tea into her favorite mug. “Morning,” you said, voice gentle.

Agatha grinned. “Mmm. It is now.”

You blushed automatically. She always had that effect.

You turned back to your herbs, distracted by the flicker of pride when she stepped behind you and wrapped her arms loosely around your waist.

And for just a second everything felt okay. That was until she leaned in, lips brushing your ear, and said, “Salem kept me warm all night.”

Your stomach dropped. You forced a smile. “Oh?”

Agatha hummed, hands ghosting beneath your sweater, warm against your waist. “He’s so soft. And clingy. Just like someone else I know.”

You tried to laugh. Operative word: Tried. But it didn’t reach your eyes. Her hands slid lower, her mouth moving to your neck, kissing lightly. “I was thinking…” she murmured against your skin. “Maybe we don’t leave the bedroom today.”

You stiffened.

Her hips pressed against your backside, slow and deliberate. “Just you. Me. My fingers. That pretty little moan you make when I bite your thighs.”

Your knees nearly buckled. But you didn’t let her see it. Instead, you turned in her arms, blinking up at her with wide, innocent eyes as your mind began to scheme. “I’ve got plans.”

Agatha stilled. “You… what?”

You smiled sweetly. Tilted your head. “I’m meeting Jen.”

She blinked. “Jennifer?”

You nodded. “Mhm. Just some girly stuff. Little catch-up. Maybe some shopping.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “Since when do you make plans without telling me?”

You giggled, light and fluttery, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Since today.”

Then you slipped from her arms, humming softly, walking out of the kitchen with a gentle sway of your hips.

She stared after you, stunned.

And you? You grabbed your phone the second you rounded the corner, typing fast.

Text to: Jennifer Kale

Three dots appeared instantly.

<Jennifer Kale: sure babe. say less. coffee shop in the square? 30 mins?

You smiled down at your screen. Soft. Serene. And absolutely scheming.

The bell above the café door jingled softly as you stepped inside, a swirl of warm air and cinnamon greeting you like a hug.

The place was cozy and bright, full of velvet chairs, mismatched tables, and the rich smell of espresso and clove. A jazz record played quietly in the corner, and sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, painting the floor in patterns of green and blue.

Jennifer Kale was already there.

She was slouched in the corner booth like a rockstar who’d just hexed someone’s boyfriend, sunglasses perched on top of her head, silver rings stacked on every finger. A half-drunk matcha latte sat in front of her. She was scrolling her phone like she owned the place.

She looked up when she saw you and her expression immediately softened. “Oh, babe.”

You smiled weakly and shuffled over, sweater sleeves too long, cheeks pink from the wind. You slid into the seat across from her and wrapped your hands around your tea like it could hold you together.

Jen gave you exactly three seconds of silence before going, “Okay. Spill. What did she do?”

You sighed. “It’s so stupid. I know it’s stupid.”

“Nope. We don’t do that here. This is a safe space for petty gay pain.”

You hesitated, biting your lip.

Then: “She’s in love with the cat.”

Jen blinked.

You took a shaky breath. “Okay, not in love, but like. Obsessed. And smug about it. And she knows I’m jealous, and she’s doing it on purpose now. She enchanted him a custom collar and ignored me all day and then had the nerve to say he kept her warm all night.”

Jen blinked again. “Are you telling me she replaced you with a kitten in bed?”

“Yes!”

Jen leaned back. “That’s actually so messed up I’m kind of impressed.”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I know it sounds insane, but it’s been weeks. She pets him constantly. She baby-talks him. She used to do that to me. And I just… I miss her.”

Jen lowered her sunglasses. “You mean you miss her touching you like you’re the only one in the world?”

You looked up, eyes round. “Yes.”

Jen leaned forward, grinning now. “Oh honey. You’ve come to the right person.”

You blinked. “I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’ve never schemed against her before. She’s the one who schemes. I’m the one who makes her tea and blushes when she calls me pretty.”

Jen smirked. “Not today, you’re not.”

You blinked.

She leaned in like she was letting you in on a sacred secret. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna buy you the hottest, most expensive lingerie in this entire godforsaken realm.”

Your eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Because,” she said, slow and smug, “you’re gonna seduce her. Properly.”

You blushed so hard you nearly fainted. “But- but she touches me all the time? Like… nearly every day?”

Jen froze. “Oh, damn. Okay, girl.”

You looked away, flustered. “That’s not the problem.”

“No, babe. I get it. This isn’t about sex. This is about power. You’re gonna walk into that bedroom in lace and silk and ruin her.”

You blinked. “Ruin her?”

“Emotionally. Spiritually. Mentally. She will not remember her own name, let alone the cat.”

You clutched your tea like a lifeline. “But what if she just… keeps playing the game? What if this doesn’t work?”

Jen smirked, full sorceress mode now. “Oh, honey. The right lingerie will make her forget that cat ever existed.”

You stared at her, quiet.

Then whispered:

“…What kind of lingerie are we talking?”

Jen slammed her latte down and stood, already pulling you to your feet.

“French.”

The little bell above the boutique door jingled as you walked in, and already, you wanted to bolt.

It was too much.

All low lighting and sultry music, velvet curtains and glass shelves lined with lingerie that looked like it had been spun from moonlight and temptation. Lace in every shade. Silk that caught the light like water. Mannequins dressed in things you weren’t sure even counted as clothing.

You hesitated by the door, clutching the sleeves of your sweater in your fists.

Jen turned back and looked at you, grinning. “You coming in, or are you gonna combust from modesty?”

You gave her a withering little smile, cheeks pink. “I’ve just never been in a place like this.”

“Mm. Baby’s first lingerie mission.” Jen looped her arm through yours, pulling you gently deeper into the shop. “You’re gonna love it. Promise.”

You weren’t so sure.

Everything was so delicate. So bold. You passed a rack of thigh harnesses and nearly squeaked out loud.

“I don’t think I’m made for this,” you whispered.

Jen glanced at you sideways. “You literally do sex magic and make love potions in your sleep.”

“That’s different! That’s sweet! That’s spiritual!”

Jen plucked a corset from a rack and wiggled it in your face. “And this is retribution.”

You stared at the corset like it might bite you.

Jen rolled her eyes fondly and tossed it over her arm with a growing pile of silks. “Let’s find something softer. Something that’ll break her heart before it ruins her life.”

You trailed after her through the store, past racks of lace and satin and embroidered spellwork, overwhelmed and blinking.

Every time she held something up, you gave the same unsure response.

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Too sheer?”

“I don’t… even know how that goes on.”

“Okay, that one’s… just string.”

Jen didn’t slow down.

She moved with intention, pulling set after set from their hangers. Champagne silk. Emerald mesh. Creamy lace embroidered with tiny stars. She handed them off to you one by one, loading your arms like she was dressing a goddess for battle.

You kept glancing down at the pieces in your hands like they’d disappear if you looked too long.

“You sure this isn’t overkill?” you murmured as you followed her to the dressing rooms.

Jen paused. “Do you want her to keep spending all her time using the laser pointer to play with the cat, all the while ignoring your breasts?”

You winced.

Fair.

She shoved you into the dressing room with a wink. “Go. Pick your poison.”

You closed the curtain behind you, hands shaking slightly.

It was quiet in the little space with just the noise of your breath, the thrum of your pulse, and the soft rustle of silk being heard as you slowly undressed. You slipped the first set on, the champagne-colored one Jen had picked, and stared at yourself in the mirror.

It barely covered you. Sheer cups. Petal-soft lace. Straps that curved along your hips and dipped low across your chest. You looked like a dream. A nymph. A creature made for ruin.

But you didn’t feel like one.

You fidgeted.

Adjusted the straps. Smoothed the lace.

Something inside you wavered. What if this doesn’t work? What if Agatha just laughs? Or smirks, all smug, and kisses your forehead like you’re trying too hard?

You stared at your reflection, small and flushed and fragile. Your throat tightened. “Jen?” you called softly.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

There was a pause. Then, calm as anything, “You need fuel?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Fuel. Motivation. That edge.”

Before you could answer, Jen’s hand slid through the curtain holding your phone. “Look,” she said.

You hesitated before you took it. And your breath caught as you saw the most recent text from Agatha.

<Agatha💜: look who’s keeping me warm again today>

She had attached a picture of Salem curled against her chest. Her fingers stroking his tiny head.

<Agatha💜: he’s so clingy. reminds me of someone>

There was a video attached this time, Salem licking her jaw, purring, as Agatha laughed.

Your eyes widened as she sent yet another picture, intended to cause maximum damage to your already bruised ego. Agatha, tousled and flushed from sleep, lips slightly parted, wrapped in a silk robe, with Salem pressed against her chest like he belonged there.

<Agatha💜: i love having all this time alone with this handsome boy>

Your stomach twisted as something in your chest snapped. You looked up at yourself in the mirror again. And suddenly you didn’t see someone soft. Or unsure. Or trying too hard. You saw her wife. The one Agatha belongs to.

Your chin lifted, your hands stopped fidgeting as you turned back the curtain.

Jen looked up from her seat and grinned. “There she is,” she said, smug.

You stepped out, all flushed and lace and vengeance. “Let’s do this.”

By the time you got home, the sun had slipped below the horizon and the sky had melted into a deep plum. The house glowed from within, candlelight flickering against the windows, shadows dancing along the walls.

You stepped inside, calm and composed, the paper boutique bag tucked under your arm like it wasn’t full of sin and lace.

Agatha didn’t look up.

She was sprawled on the velvet sofa, a wine glass balanced loosely in her hand, Salem curled across her thighs like a furry little king. One of her hands was stroking lazily along his back, her fingers dancing in long, luxurious lines through his fur. Her silk robe had fallen open just enough to suggest deliberate temptation.

He was purring like thunder.

“Oh, there she is,” Agatha drawled, still not looking at you. “The little runaway witch.”

You hung up your coat carefully, placing the bag beneath the entryway bench with quiet precision. “Hi.”

Agatha finally looked over. Her eyes were sharp. Glinting. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be out this late.”

You shrugged. “Had some errands.”

“Mm. With Jennifer, I assume?”

You smiled faintly. “She wanted to check in on her store.”

Agatha sipped her wine. “Did she tell you to come home and behave yourself? Because I’ve already claimed Salem for the night. No room in my lap for clingy little witches.”

You gave her the softest smile and said nothing.

It was infuriating. Agatha narrowed her eyes slightly, tilting her head. “You’re quiet.”

“Just tired,” you said, drifting into the kitchen to start the kettle. “Long day.”

“Didn’t look like a long day in those photos Jen posted online.”

You froze, just for a heartbeat. So she’d been watching.

You turned slowly and met her eyes across the room. “Stalking me?”

She smirked. “Monitoring. For signs of mischief.”

You smiled sweetly. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.” Agatha set her wine glass down and shifted on the sofa, pressing her cheek to Salem’s tiny head, her hand sliding along his spine. “I know where you’ll end up. Right here. Begging for attention. Like always.”

You gave a soft laugh, walking to the kitchen to make a calming cup of tea before you were going to enact phase 1: the seduction. The kettle whistled. You poured the tea, unbothered.

“I made lavender chamomile,” you said, voice light. “Want a cup?”

She watched you closely. “Sure. Bring it here.”

You walked over and set the cup on the side table beside her.

She didn’t thank you. Instead, she took a slow sip, eyes never leaving yours.

Salem stretched on her lap, letting out a dramatic little sigh.

Agatha cooed. “Poor baby’s so exhausted from a long day of being adored. Isn’t that right, my sweet little prince?”

You sat down in the armchair across from her and took a slow sip of your own tea, not blinking.

She kept stroking Salem.

You didn’t flinch. Not when she kissed his little head. Not when she murmured, “Such a good boy.” Not even when she flicked her eyes toward you and said, “You used to be this good. What happened?”

You set your mug down, crossing one leg over the other and smiled. “I guess I grew up.”

Agatha’s eyes sparked dangerously.

But you didn’t say anything else. You sat there calmly, sipping your tea, letting the silence stretch between you like silk being pulled taut.

She shifted again. “You’re not going to come sit with me?”

“Not right now.”

“Not feeling needy anymore?”

You shook your head. “I’m good.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re very smug for someone being replaced by a now reformed demon cat.”

You tilted your head. “He’s cute.”

“That’s all you’ve got?”

You shrugged. “He’s very charming.”

Agatha’s lips twitched. She didn’t say anything else. Just sipped her tea.

The fire crackled between you.

Dinner was quiet.

You let her talk. About old spells. About chaos magic theory. About a potion one of the newer coven witches had messed up that morning. She was brilliant, glowing with cleverness, gesturing with her wine glass, her voice smooth and practiced.

You let her charm the air.

And you gave her nothing. Not your usual sparkles of laughter. Not the flustered cheeks she’d come to expect. You listened. Nodded. Smiled.

But you didn’t bite. Not once. Not when Salem hopped into her lap mid-meal and she groaned, “He just loves me more,” you only nodded and said, “Maybe.”

Not when she stretched and said, “I might just sleep with him wrapped around my chest again,” you simply said, “As long as he doesn’t snore.”

Agatha’s smile twitched as she waited for the jealousy. For the pout. But you had replaced it with patience. Because tonight was already yours.

When she went upstairs, you followed a few minutes later, your bag tucked beneath your arm.

Agatha was already in bed when you walked in. Her robe had slipped lower. Her thigh was bare. The sheets a mess around her legs.

She glanced up. “There’s my girl. Finally done sulking?”

You smiled. “Just going to shower.”

“Don’t be long,” she murmured. “I’ve got some ideas for how to… ease your wounded ego.”

You said nothing, just took the bag and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Agatha smirked to herself, stretching like a cat across the bed. She thought she’d won. But she didn’t know that she was just about to lose.

You stood in front of the mirror one last time.

Your breath was slow. Steady.

The wine-red silk clung to every curve of your body like it had been made for you in another life. The lace, delicate and whisper-thin, draped your skin perfectly. The garter belt hugged your hips like the hands you wanted on you. The perfume at your throat made you dizzy with power.You looked like something to kneel for. And tonight, she would.

You opened the bathroom door slowly, deliberately, letting the candlelight from the bedroom cast a golden glow across your skin.

You thought you were prepared for anything. For the gasp. The hunger. The scramble to devour you right there at the threshold.

What you weren’t prepared for was: “Yes, that’s it, my clever little man, get it, get the ribbon for mama-”

You froze.

There she was, on her knees on the rug, her silk robe slipping from one shoulder, hair tumbling around her like some kind of ancient goddess…

Playing with Salem.

That fucking cat.

You blinked and waited, surely she would glance up soon. She didn’t.

She laughed softly as Salem pawed at the belt of her robe. “Ohhh, look at you. You’re so smart. You’re the smartest little man I’ve ever seen! Yes, you are, yes, you-”

You coughed loudly.

Nothing.

You stepped forward. The sound of your heel clicked on the wood floor.

Still nothing.

Agatha didn’t even flinch.

Your heart pounded. Your hands curled into fists at your sides. You were standing in the most stunning, expensive, planned-with-a-friend-for-six-hours lingerie of your life- and she hadn’t even looked up.

You waited three more seconds before yelling, “AGATHA.”

She jerked upright like she’d been hit with a bolt of lightning. Salem meowed in protest, hopping back from the sudden movement.

Her head snapped up.

Her jaw dropped.

And for the first time in her very long life, Agatha Harkness was rendered completely speechless.

Her eyes trailed slowly, painfully, down your body.

From your flushed cheeks, to your soft, bare shoulders, down your chest, where the silk clung like a second skin, to the curve of your waist, the garters on your thighs, the way the stockings shimmered in the firelight.

Her lips parted. “Fuck.”

You stared at her. Unmoving.

Agatha blinked. Tried to recover. “Baby- ”

“Oh,” you said, voice shaking with rage, “don’t you ‘baby’ me.”

She froze.

You stepped forward slowly, heels clicking like a spell being cast. “I’ve been putting up with your little games for days. You’ve been teasing me, taunting me, rubbing that smug little cat in my face like I’m some clingy little afterthought who should be grateful to sleep at the edge of the bed.”

Agatha’s mouth opened. “You know I was just- ”

You raised a hand. “Don’t.”

And she stopped.

You kept walking until you stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, the silk creasing against your skin. “I put on this for you. I let you play your little jealousy game all day. I didn’t bite. I didn’t react. I let you believe you were winning. Because I thought, tonight, you’d finally remember who I am to you.”

Agatha’s throat worked. “You’re everything-”

“And yet,” you cut in, voice low and furious, “I walked out of that bathroom looking like this, and you didn’t even fucking notice I was in the room.”

She flinched.

“I was standing right there,” you said, gesturing to the doorway. “In this, this stupidly fucking expensive set I agonized over for hours, this whole plan I crafted with Jen to make you notice me again, and you were too busy flirting with the fucking cat.”

Salem let out a tiny, uncertain chirp.

You shot him a glare. “Not now.”

Agatha stood slowly. “Darling…”

“No,” you snapped. “Don’t even try. You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to see me like this.”

She crossed to you, hands open like she wanted to kneel. “You’re right. I fucked up. Let me make it right.”

“Oh, now you’re interested?”

“You look… ” her voice dropped, reverent and desperate, “divine. I want to worship you.”

You laughed coldly. “Go play with your cat, Agatha. Because you’re sure as hell not playing with me.”

Her face cracked. It was subtle. The tiniest twitch at the edge of her mouth. A flicker of panic behind her lashes. Her hands trembled just slightly. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

You turned to the door. “Watch me.”

Agatha surged forward, just one step but the second she did you spun round rapidly. “Don’t.”

Your voice cut through the room like a blade. “You’ve made your choice every night this week. And tonight? You proved I don’t even register when that cat’s in the room.”

“Baby…”

“No.” You wrapped your robe tightly around you. “I’m not going to beg for your attention. I’m not going to stand here in fucking couture lingerie while you grovel. I’m going to bed.”

She looked wrecked. Hair messy. Eyes wide. Breathing shallow.

“Wait, wait- please,” she said, voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t see you- ”

“No,” you said, and opened the door. “You didn’t.”

You walked out and slammed it shut behind you.

For a second, there was silence.

Then, from behind the door:

“Fuck.”

Pause.

“Salem, I need a minute.”

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x reader #kathryn hahn x reader #kathryn hahn #agatha coven of chaos #agatha x you

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sanospet · 3 months ago

Text

✩ GAME OVER ✩

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - 𝘎𝘈𝘔𝘌𝘙!𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘎𝘈𝘙𝘈𝘒𝘐 𝘛𝘖𝘔𝘜𝘙𝘈 𝘟 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋𝘌𝘙

𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦 : collecting the nectar, you pressed them to his lips with a smile, following the actions he often displayed to you, tomura letting you set your digits on his tongue with a playful roll of the eyes, lapping at the liquid as you pulled them out with a sweet pop, "you're having too much fun," hitched breath cutting his words short as your fingers clasped around his length, pumping, a breathy moan all that he could manage. "you look so pretty like this, can you really blame me ?" whispering, tomura's skin burning as your lips grazed his ear, his mind whirring as the 'game over' screen's music echoed off of the walls. eyes squeezed shut, face contorting in bliss, a thin layer of sweat offering subtle highlights to his skin as you worked him, your thumb circling his tip, giving gentle squeezes.

warnings and notes!

18+ . mdni . smut . pwp . quirkless au . gamer tomura x gamer reader . oral (amab & afab receiving) . handjob . deep throating . edging . cum denial . fingering (afab receiving) . tomura lets the reader dom him a little . casual sex . they’re playing ff15 (heavily mentioned throughout but you don’t need to really know the game to read this imo) . whiny/pouty reader . usage of nicknames (“kid” , “baby”, “love”) . teasing & lots of giggles . sweet filth . reader is afab . reader’s gender is mentioned . reader’s pronouns aren’t mentioned . reader’s sex is mentioned . proofread though there may still be some spelling mistakes, enjoy!

authors note!

i haven’t posted anything in months but i’ve been writing, lol. coming up with a lot of different concepts as well as sparsely working on the next chapter of “veiled blossoms”, it’s just kinda heavy so it’s hard to write, haha. i feel slightly rusty and as if this isn’t my best work but i hope it’s good enough, i’m treating it as a warm-up (?) of sorts, as i get back into my flow. a lot has been going on and a lot has happened in my life in the past few months, life-changing things and i’m just trying to navigate it all as well as tap into my creativity more frequently and freely again. thank you so much for reading, i deeply appreciate it and i hope you enjoy this quick read! <3

- linus

the dull buzz of the game console echoed off of the white walls of tomura's bedroom, the paint tinted with a soft blue hue alongside the posters which adorned them, due to the television. the soft knocks of the knobs on the controller among the gentle, yet frustrated, grunts that slipped past tomura's lips offering a comforting ambiance, something you'd grown quite used to.

a subtle scowl, of which you were sure he was unaware, sewing his features together as noctis' movements slowed down on the screen for the nth time, tomura shifting to zap him to the nearest warp point, prompto falling in the meantime, leaving the low hp duo of gladiolus and ignis amidst the chaos of battle. your gaze shifting between the screen, tomura, and the urgency of his thumbs as countless coeurl's shredded through his team, depleting their health further as tomura frantically distributed health potions to evade death.

rigid posture cushioned by an array of pillows, tomura's gaze remained fixed on the screen before him, eyes darting from the gameplay to the wavering health status of each member, concentrating deeply, a slight furrow in his brow. he sat upright, alert, on edge almost, in contrast to your laying form beside him, attempting to watch his gameplay earnestly, yet failing to do so.

with his over-washed, slightly faded band-tee riding up his torso, almost matching the one you'd currently adorned, having stolen it out of his closet earlier that day. the shoulder seams hanging slightly lower on your arms than they ever did his, the faint musky scent embedded within the threading, mixing with the wafting vanilla candle you had lit not too long ago, offering a sweet sense of solace. with the thin trail of hair peaking beneath his shirt, exposed by the sliver of skin that was on display, crawling beneath the hem of his underwear, you'd found it increasingly difficult to keep your eyes straight before you.

you loved watching tomura game, just as much as he loved watching you. sessions filled with giggles and exasperated sighs, pushing the controllers into each others hands once things got too frustrating, celebrating your joint wins with high-fives and gentle kisses. yet, your offer to take over had been declined this time around, tomura refusing to let his pride wane in the face of his third "game over" screen, a controlled sigh leaving his lips as he entered the bounty's vicinity once more, teeth gritted.

niveous tendrils framing his soft features, shaggy hair resting on the tense, slightly raised, muscles of his shoulders. tomura's skin was slightly illuminated amidst the dark surroundings, ruby gaze darting across the screen in focus. his grip on the controller tightening as he moved with fervour, jaw clenching. your sight trailing over his disgruntled form, a small smile playing on your lips at the display.

tomura had the unyielding tendency to get riled up whilst gaming, often vocal in his distresses and victories, his concentrated glare on the screen something you'd grown quite fond of, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, immersed.

fingers lifting, moving to tuck loose tendrils behind his ear, earning a soft smile from the other, his muscles seeming to ease up slightly at the subtle action. touch shifting toward his exposed skin, drawing shapes on the flesh of his abdomen as your lips met his neck, tomura's head cocking to the side, offering more access, a shaky breath leaving his lips. "you're distracting me, kid," voice laced with gravel, your lips grazed his ear and he could feel your smirk against him "would you like me to stop ?" words whispered, a kitten lick, the tip of your tongue gently dragging up the edge of his ear, goosebumps rising in response to your touch, breath offering warmth to his skin, "i never said that," through a controlled exhale, "just continue on for me, then, love," setting a gentle kiss to his cheek.

fingers inching beneath the fabric of his joggers, resting upon the cloth of his boxers, you began to palm his most sensitive part, lips moving against the rough skin of his neck delicately, offering pecks and soft suction, marking him, a sharp gasp leaving tomura's chest. motions slow, grating, softly chuckling as he spoke, "you know i hate teasing, baby," a small scoff, brows knitting, "you tease me all the time," you pushed, "that's different," shrugging, tone relaxed, "is not!" you retorted, "and you never let up, no matter how much i beg," lips curling in response to your pout saturated words, his gaze remaining locked onto the screen, "i don't beg, kid," a gentle shake of his head as he spoke.

your fingers moving to slip from beneath his clothing, his hand leaving the controller, flying to catch your wrist, slowly turning meeting your gaze. with a taunting a quirk in your brow, smirk sewing your features, you sat in wait, teeth chewing the inside of his cheek as he took a beat, sighing in defeat, "please, baby," the words dripping with plead, guiding your grip beneath the layer of his dampened underwear, pre-cum soaking through the thin fabric, the sweetly spoken words sweeping a rosy blush across his cheeks, "anything else ?" you teased, head cocking to the side, a small smile curling his lips at the prod, "thank you," your nose brushing past his with a small smile, setting a kiss to his lips as his gaze returned to the screen, unpausing, "you're lucky i'm nicer than you are," a chuckle leaving his lips, "aren't i just."

shifting his hips as you pulled down the constricting pieces of fabric, a sharp hiss slipping past his lips as your fingers grazed the tip of his hardened cock gently. collecting the nectar, you pressed them to his lips with a smile, following the actions he often displayed to you, tomura letting you set your digits on his tongue with a playful roll of the eyes, lapping at the liquid as you pulled them out with a sweet pop, "you're having too much fun," hitched breath cutting his words short as your fingers clasped around his length, pumping, a breathy moan all that he could manage. "you look so pretty like this, can you really blame me ?" whispering, tomura's skin burning as your lips grazed his ear, his mind whirring as the 'game over' screen's music echoed off of the walls. eyes squeezed shut, face contorting in bliss, a thin layer of sweat offering subtle highlights to his skin as you worked him, your thumb circling his tip, giving gentle squeezes.

"fuck, you made me die..." through a laugh, it soon morphing into a chesty groan, a lazy, open-mouthed smile on his lips, "there's no way i'll be able to beat this when you're-" setting a gentle kiss to his tip with a change in position, licking a ring around it, offering gentle circles around it with a curved tongue before slipping his length into your mouth. pulling out, your gaze locking with his once more, your hand continuing to stroke him, "when i'm what ?" tone innocent with a cocked head in question, legs swaying in his playful kicks behind you.

"god, you're so annoying sometimes," through a choked giggle, earning one in turn from you as you set sweet pecks on his length, tomura's alertness dwindling. his gaze failing to stay on the screen for longer than a second, entranced by your performance, dusty rose setting deeply in his cheeks as your eyes fluttered shut, a loose smile hung on your features as your lips worked him, setting gentle kisses and kitten licks to his cock, soft moans slipping past your lips, offering subtle vibrations to his length as you took him into your mouth.

his core tightening at the sight of you seemingly worshipping his cock, goosebumps trailing his skin as your head bobbed, suppressed groans escaping his lips as your throat relaxed, nose kissing his pelvis in chase of his melodic sounds. the muscle contracting around his length as you choked, fingernails digging into your palms as you held yourself in position, a flurry of moans soon escaping his lips in tow. head thrown back, hips staggering, bucking reflexively as his back arched off of the slew of pillows in which it rested upon.

pulling back, a thin string of saliva, the only connection between the two of you before your hands moved to work him once more, gaze lifting to meet the screen behind you before shifting to him. lust swimming within the fire in his eyes, hot embers offering licks under his hooded gaze, piercing your skin with desire. tousled shaggy hair sticking to his skin, lips parted, pants falling from them with each breath he took. the pit of your stomach contorting at the sight, a small whimper threatening to leave your throat under the harsh gaze, tomura's trance like state snapping under your hooked forefinger, directing his attention back to the screen before him, "noctis is dying," a small gasp as his thumbs moved once more, "fuck-" through a chuckle as he gave him another elixir, "too distracting ?" you questioned, words laced thickly with tease, as you set a soft kiss to his tip once more, earning a small smirk from the man, "not at all," sarcasm drenching the reply.

a giggle leaving your lips at the snide remark, your hand shifting his own, threading his fingers through your locks, guiding your mouth onto him once more. tomura's free hand shifting to pause the movement on the screen, hips bucking as your throat relaxed around him, a whisper of a whimper falling from his chest as his hips rolled, head dropping back against the pillows once more as he used you. movements slow, inching deeper and deeper down your throat before pulling just up to his tip, pushing your head down once more with fervour, repeating the movements over, growing desperate as he continued. sweet, chesty groans falling from his lips, choked and growing in volume as the coil in his stomach tightened, your face deepening in rose as oxygen evaded you, fists tight, eyes squeezed shut as he decorated your throat with pearl.

with matching pants, your gaze met once more, the sight of his breathy and fucked out form erupting butterflies within your stomach, tomura thumbing your bottom lip in wait, the pond of his seed within your mouth inciting a smile from the man, needing nothing but for your eyes to meet once more to recognise his desires, soon displaying your tongue after a swallow. tomura's hand remained tangled within your hair, pulling you closer as your lips interlocked, tasting remnants of himself on your tongue as your lips moved.

pulling away, lazy gaze raking over your features, your eyes filled with yearning, breaths intermingling as he smoothed a hand over your messy hair, "such a sweet girl," the soft words whispered, filled with praise as he tucked unruly strands behind your ear, rose dusting your cheeks, heart swelling as he spoke. shifting to lay you down against the pillows, "you wouldn't mind taking over for me, would you, baby ?" pushing the controller to your chest with a smirk, situating himself between your legs.

"you don't actually expect me to beat it, do you ?" brows knitting as the paused screen met you, "what, you don't think you can ?" teasing, setting a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "t-that's unfair," you pushed, a ghost of a pout, "what was it you said earlier about you being kinder than i am ?" chuckling, "but listen, i'll be nicer this time, yeah ? a reward is in store," the words convincing, "well, can i at least know what i'm working toward ?" eyes round, pleading as his fingers drew shapes on your skin, "cumming."

a sharp intake of breath, "you wouldn't..." brows knitting as your bottom lip jut out just so, "and why wouldn't i ?" a smirk curling his lips, teasing, "i hate edging and you know that..." your whines met with a shrug of his shoulders, "and i hate being teased, but here we are, love," a soft laugh, tomura setting encouraging pats to your outer thigh, "you oughta be more confident, kid," your silence erupting another giggle from the man, "what, you gonna call me mean ?" head cocking, teasing, pain pout decorating his lips, "no need to say it if you already know it," murmured words earning another laugh, "stop pouting and play the game, kid."

tomura's fingers inched beneath your shirt at the click of the unpause button, soon resting atop your bare chest. kneading the mound, squeezing harshly, earning a wince as he tugged at your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. his lips planting kisses between your thighs, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, leaving blossoming marks that matched his own.

tomura's stomach tightened, throat forming a lump at the sight of your underwear, the only bottoms you adorned beneath his oversized band tee. the dark patch of fabric clinging to your skin, outlining your folds with precision, the soaked cloth practically peeling away as he removed them. throwing your legs over his shoulders, hooded gaze flicking over to your frazzled form, shoulders tense as his nose dragged over your bundle of nerves ever so slowly, causing you to jerk slightly, swallowing a moan through a clenched jaw. "relax, baby," setting soothing strokes to your thigh, "and let me hear you."

pushing gentle kisses to your heat, curled tongue offering circular strokes, lips wrapping around your nub, adding the slightest bit of suction before pulling away with a wet pop. diving back in with laps, nose dragging your essence up and through your folds, his arms wrapping around your thighs, holding your shifty form in place as your thumbs moved against the controller, attempting to heal your team despite having only half the brain to pay attention.

tomura's head dipping lower, your gaze unable to stay on the screen as he made out with your most sensitive part, his eyes shut in bliss as he tongued your entrance, soft mewls escaping you at the act, the coil in your stomach tightening at the sight, tomura swiftly retracting at the dull hum of the 'game over' screen, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips at the act, head thrown back in defeat, earning a laugh from the man.

"fuck," through an exasperated breath, drawled out with a whine, earning a soft laugh from the man, "try again, love," your fingers shifting as you entered the bounty's vicinity once more, a ghost of a frown haunting your features. tomura's movements continued, earning somewhat of a cry as he slipped a finger in, your frazzled mind attempting to win as you haphazardly switched weapons, healing team members as best as you could, the coeurl's seemingly appearing in endless streams.

doubling the dosage, his fingers curled, hitting that spongey part that only he could ever reach, a sharp intake of breath was all you could muster as his thumb continued to stroke that sweet bundle of nerves, tomura peppering kisses along your thighs. a soft laugh leaving his lips as your hips began to roll, meeting his stride as moans sat heavy on your tongue, his mouth meeting your heat once more, the pace of his fingers quickening as he pumped you, your eyes squeezing shut as your walls squeezed around tomura's fingers and soon, nothing at all, eyes flying open with a frustrated whine.

"rules are rules, kid," offering soothing strokes to your stomach, a wicked glint in his eye, shrugging, "but it's just...it's hard when you're-" a smirk, "when i'm what ?" pitch high, tone mocking as his hands were on you again, resuming his prior movements, earning an eye roll and a disgruntled sigh, tomura laughing at that.

thumbs moving swiftly against the controller, you were down to one coeurl and fresh out of both potions and elixirs, heartbeat rising as noctis, the only moving member on your team, performed his warp attack, his health depleting rapidly. tomura's gaze shifting to the screen for but a moment, a soft smile on his face, "you're so close, kid, c'mon," he pushed, lips on you once more as you finished the last one off through gritted teeth, the controller soon hitting the bed with a bounce as you dropped it.

tomura allowing your fingers to thread through his locks as your hips rolled against his tongue with a fiery need, his fingers pumping you at an unforgiving pace. the coil in your stomach tightening for what seemed like the hundredth time, soon coming undone in waves, goosebumps rising on your skin as your body shook, a flurry of moans leaving your lips as tomura worked you through your high.

chest rising and falling, tomura hovered over you once more setting a soft kiss to your lips, "that's a good girl," lips grazing yours, "i think a bigger reward is in order, don't you ?" his hardened cock dragging between your folds, gaze hooded as he spoke, your eyes rounding with plead, "please..."

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charlesslut16 · 1 year ago

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hey babe i loved the max fic about the one wherereader pregnant, my idea/vision for part two is probably reader move somewhere probably england and live there fast forward years later they run into max. i think that's all i have thanks loveee

-gaining you to love-

summary : you and max meet again after all the trauma you had went trough

PAIRING : max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none?

note : i hope that you like this and please request more!!!

masterlist ; Part 1

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Years had passed since you had last seen Max Verstappen. After the heartbreak, you had packed up your life and moved to England, seeking a fresh start away from the painful memories.

You found solace in the quaint countryside and raised your child with the love and dedication that had always been your strength. In your heart, you still wished he and you could raise your child together.

But this would still always be your dream.

Your child, a vibrant and curious soul, grew up knowing about their father only through the carefully chosen stories you shared and the races you watched on television.

It had never crossed your mind to not tell your child, who their father is. It just never felt right to you. How could you not allow your child to know the person that was one's your most loved person and their dad.

Max’s name was synonymous with greatness in the world of Formula 1, and even though you had distanced yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of pride every time his name was mentioned.

One crisp autumn afternoon, you were out shopping in the bustling streets of London with your now four-year-old child. The city had a way of making you feel both anonymous and connected, a perfect blend for the life you had built.

It was not the perfect life you had chosen, but it was as perfect as it could be. As you walked through the crowded market, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Max, your max, standing just a few feet away. He looked different, older, more mature, but the spark in his eyes was unmistakable.

He had the same smile and the same voice, both features that broth you great happiness, a long time ago. Your heart skipped a beat, memories flooding back with an intensity that took your breath away.

“Max,” you whispered quiet, not quite believing your eyes. Max, your max, standing in front of you. Impossible, right? Your child looked up at you, sensing the shift in your emotions.

Max took a step closer to the both of you, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to confirm that you were real. If it was really the love of his life.“I can’t believe it’s you,” he said softly. “How have you been?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice, not sure if words would come out surely and understandable.“I’ve been…good. How about you? You’ve done well for yourself. You have grown more mature”

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. A smile that had not shown like that, since you left.“Yeah, it’s been a wild ride. But I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

Before you could respond, your child tugged at your sleeve, looking curiously at Max. You did not thread this moment, but you sure were nervous.“Mommy, is that?”

You took a deep breath, kneeling down to your child’s level. “This is, Max,” you said gently. Not too sure if your child was ready for this important moment in their life.

Max’s eyes widened as he looked at the child, realization dawning on him. It was his your child. The child he did not chose. “Is this…?” he began, his voice trailing off and cracking slightly.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “Yes, Max. This is our child.”

He looked back at you, a mix of emotions playing across his face—shock, regret, longing. All because his younger self chose his career and not his family. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You agreed, and the three of you found a quiet café nearby. As you sat down, the tension was palpable. Your child, oblivious to the emotional undercurrents, chattered happily about their favorite books and toys.

Max listened intently, a soft smile on his face, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. He had never realized how the feeling of being content really felt until this exact moment.

Once your child was occupied with a coloring book, Max reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I was scared, and I handled it all wrong. I’ve regretted it every day since.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you listened to his words. “I was hurt, Max. So hurt. But I had to be strong for our child. I moved here to start over, to give them a good life.”

“You’ve done an incredible job,” he said, his eyes full of admiration. “But I want to be part of their life. I want to be a part of your life. I want us back. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at your child, then back at Max. The pain of the past was still there, but so was the love you had always felt for him. And always will.“It won’t be easy,” you said softly. “But I want what’s best for our child. They deserve to know their father.”

Max nodded with a lift of his lip, his grip on your hand tightening. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. I want to be here for both of you. To have you both with me.”

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of emotions as Max integrated himself into your life. He was patient and understanding, taking the time to get to know your child and to rebuild the trust between you.

The bond that had once been so strong, that you had thought would never be like that, slowly began to mend, and the love you thought you had lost forever started to rekindle.

One evening, as you sat together in your cozy living room, your child asleep upstairs, Max turned to you with a serious expression. “I want to make up for lost time, Y/N. I want to be a family. Will you give me another chance?”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and determination there. The years of hurt and loneliness had taken their toll, but the love had never truly faded. “I want that too, Max,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve always wanted that. I had always hoped for a happy ending for us.”

Max pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you both let the tears flow. It felt like coming home after a long, arduous journey. The pain of the past was still there, but it was overshadowed by the promise of a future together.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Max built a life together, full of love and laughter. Your child thrived, surrounded by the warmth of a united family. Max balanced his racing career with his newfound responsibilities, proving to be a devoted father and partner.

The journey had been long and painful, but it had led you to this moment—standing together at the finish line, not as competitors, but as a family. And as you looked at Max, you knew that despite everything, you had finally found your way back to each other.

In your heart, you had truly known that this would be the outcome. It was a dream that came through and even tho you all went to tremendous pain you would go through it as a family.

A family he chose.

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iwillbringyouruin · 11 months ago

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Visions Magazine with Tobias Forge on the idea behind Rite Here Rite Now, the importance of soundtracks in general and how he distinguishes between himself and his characters (Visions Magazine issue nr. 377, 08/2024)

Full translation of the included interview by me below the cut - buckle up, this is a long post! There are no spoilers for RHRN in this.

Markus Hockenbrink: Tobias, have you ever watched the movie Metallica: Though The Never?

Tobias Forge: Yes, once, when it had just come out. The topic Metallica came up when we were taking care of the funding for [RHRN]. Every larger production company – and I have to emphasise here that this was before Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour and her extremely successful movie about it – voiced a lot of concern back then whether anybody would still be interested in concert movies. I had to explain time and again that my movie wouldn’t be a typical concert movie, to which I was asked several times: “Oh, so something like Through The Never?” I had to deny that again. We tell a story in our movie most of our fans are already familiar with. So it’s not an entirely new concept, which is already the first distinction from Through The Never. If you only consider that there is a concert part and a feature film part, then those two movies are probably similar. But that also applies to La La Land.

M. Hockenbrink: You describe your movie as a combination of Kiss’ Alive II, Ralph Bakshi cartoons and silent film horror. Is that a kind of childhood dream that comes true there?

T. Forge: Definitely. For as long as I’ve been interested in music, I’ve also been interested in film and television. Working in film could have also been a career option for me, but I always got the rather annoying impression that one would have to go to film school to really find a place in that field. School was never my strong suit, I see myself more as a autodidact in that regard. That I had the opportunity to work on/contribute to my own movie as a sorcerer’s apprentice of sorts is a real privilege. That is a dream come true but it is also something I can picture more of in the future. Next time maybe without the band.

M. Hockenbrink: Can you remember a specific moment in your life when you realised that you were especially drawn to topics that are slightly morbid and unsettling?

T. Forge: I think that due to my family I came in contact with vastly different kinds of pop culture from a very young age. In more traditional families with more conservative parents and siblings of similar ages, you only really start with your respective journey to find yourself in your teens. Then there are often restrictions that are meant to distract from those darker influences. My parents on the other hand are very liberal and my brother was 13 years older than me. There were never limits or censorship for me. My childhood didn’t go by without rules entirely, but I was always allowed to watch or listen to what my brother was also watching or listening to. That way I was exposed to all kinds of teenage culture from the beginning. Sure, I also liked Pippi Longstocking and He-Man. But that was always combined with the French arthouse films my mother liked to watch or the horror flicks my brother was into. I can’t recall a particularly striking horror film experience, but I still remember the first time it dawned on me that movies don’t just exist, they’re made.

M. Hockenbrink: How do you mean?

T. Forge: My father worked as a documentary maker in television. His job was to connect the video track and the sound track in a fitting way for different film production. I saw Jaws on television with him as a small child. It’s important to note that my father is not somebody who can just quietly enjoy films but somebody who likes to butt in. Thanks to him I already had a kind of epiphany during the introduction. He said: “Look closely! There is nothing to see in this underwater scenery except the algae. Technically completely harmless. But it only takes the ominous music to turn the whole scene into pure horror already!” And I thought: Wow! That’s true! Later in the movie you only have to hear that music and it immediately puts you on edge, even when there’s nobody in the water right now. They don’t even have to show the shark anymore. I found it fascinating that the [viewer’s] senses/perception could be manipulated like that. Ever since, I’ve been viewing films with different eyes. I can still allow myself to dive into the story but at the same time I see the practical aspect to film-making.

M. Hockenbrink: I had a similar feeling during the introduction of Shining: technically a cozy road trip in the mountains, but a pure nightmare with the music.

T. Forge: I’m with you on that. Shining is one of the best movies of all time. And funnily enough, only the intro sequence was actually shot in nature. All the other scenes, even if they were outside, were filmed in the studio. Exactly that kind of craftsmanship is what I find inspiring.

M. Hockenbrink: With that in mind, what makes a good soundtrack in your opinion?

T. Forge: We already talked about Jaws, but I can think of Eyes Wide Shut as another example. There is that short piano theme that comes up again and again, incredibly effective. A good soundtrack needs to deliver something that you don’t have to be able to see to perceive its existence. Sure, there are no monsters in Eyes Wide Shut, aside from the main character’s jealousy as an internal monster maybe. But just like the music in Jaws, the theme from Eyes Wide Shut symbolises something that doesn’t have to be shown. The sound is enough. That is also a commonly used effect in adventure and love movies. You just put in a short vignette to describe the love between two characters. In Star Wars, Luke Skywalker also has his own theme, that is used every time when things get emotional and you’re supposed to feel that hope. You’ve got to pay attention to that. Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th also has a personal theme to recognise him by. Every time you hear it you immediately know “Oh shit, he’s nearby!”

M. Hockenbrink: What about soundtracks that are made up of songs?

T. Forge: With that, I’m especially thinking of Silence of the Lambs. In the scene where Buffalo Bill dresses up as a woman and dances around his basement, a song called Goodbye Horses by Q Lazzarus is playing. I have no idea how the artist felt about that since the song is now so irrevocably connected to that awful scene, that you can’t listen to it anymore without thinking of it.

M. Hockenbrink: Do you feel like soundtrack work is more appreciated now than it used to be?

T. Forge: I think that it’s definitely gained importance over the last 40 years. The right song on the right soundtrack can be incredibly powerful. Just think of Stranger Things. Obviously, Metallica and Kate Bush already had successful careers before, but what happened with Master of Puppets and Running Up That Hill following the series was something else entirely. The songs were associated so strongly with the narrative, that way more people listened to them than before. Of course I’m a strong advocate for live music but I also realised that nothing is as strong as the connection of visuals and music. That is still the most powerful way to appeal to a deeper emotion through the association.

M. Hockenbrink: More or less a shortcut to the subconscious.

T. Forge: Exactly. But you can’t be cynical about that either. If I was an A&R person at a big label, I would probably also say: “You just have to find a spot for one of your songs on a popular soundtrack, then you’ll have made it!” That’s really how it is. But when you view it from an artistic perspective, when you want to reach people a certain way or bring across a certain message or a certain feeling, the combination of visuals and sound can’t be topped.

M. Hockenbrink: It especially lends itself to an immersive experience, as seems to be in the foreground of [RHRN]. An album by Black Sabbath or Iron Maiden ends at some point, then you’re gone from that metal world again. With Ghost, however, you get the feeling that the illusion just keeps on going, across several media. Did you plan the Ghost mythology like this from the start?

T. Forge: In part. When I started with the band, I only wanted to make a standalone album. The concept was supposed to be interesting and practical, but I wasn’t planning for Ghost to be a huge thing. The style I pictured has its own limits in my opinion. The band was supposed to function a certain way and appeal to a certain target audience. The concert was supposed to be a theatrical performance in the literal sense. Ghost were never supposed to perform in a normal rock club nor go on tour. I wanted more of a kind of Vaudeville show in a proper plushy theatre. The band was supposed to be as anonymous as the actors that stand on stage and play, say, Faust. The idea behind this was: Those who don’t know who the people are on stage are more ready to follow the story. Then we would perform three days back-to-back in select cities. Berlin, Amsterdam, London. Just like Diamanda Galás who can more likely be found at a culture festival than in a rock shack. But things turned out differently in the end, and I had to kiss my original ideas goodbye again, so to speak.

M. Hockenbrink: Why?

T. Forge: After the success of our debut album, it became clear to me that more conventional concerts were going to be demanded of us and that I could only really say yes or no. This problem became worse after our shift to a bigger label. It became clear that my vision of telling stories clashed with the live sector and requirements for success more and more. At a certain point anonymity doesn’t work anymore and I had to make peace with that in the end. I originally didn’t even want to do interviews but that’s obviously tricky when you want to sell records. The question that I constantly ask myself since is how I can do those things best in the Ghost way without denying the original Vaudeville spirit.

M. Hockenbrink: In his autobiography Golf Monster, Alice Cooper talks about himself in third person a lot when he is talking about his character. Are you feeling similarly at this point?

T. Forge: At least I can definitely see where he’s coming from. There is a difference between the person Vincent Furnier and the character Alice Cooper. I believe that he was on the verge of completely transforming into Alice Cooper at one point – to the point where one has to decide where they want to live or die. In the end he decided to remain Vincent Furnier and only become Alice Cooper for work, on stage. So far I’ve been fortunate to combine the two pretty well, but had I started Ghost ten years earlier in my life, it would have probably affected me similarly to how Alice Cooper did with Vincent Furnier in his time. But with my humble experience as an actor I have to say: every character you play becomes a part of you to a certain extent. You have to find certain qualities – good or bad – within yourself to bring such a character to life. I think that most actors only play one or two roles throughout their life that they then end up being known for. The different characters that I’ve portrayed on stage are not only very similar but actually also a part of me. Fortunately a part of me that I don’t want to deal with all day long.

M. Hockenbrink: Too cynical and antisocial?

T. Forge: Cardinal Copia or Cardi, as I like to call him, is not an all-around cool person, but that makes him so fun to play for me. He is half Freddie Mercury and half Jacques Clouseau. Kind of clumsy, kind of silly, kind of stupid. The kind of guy who trips over his own feet but catches himself elegantly. That’s also me in a way, but not just. And I think that’s easier to embody than a daredevil hero character who can rival anyone and gets all the ladies. When somebody plays only those characters their whole life, it will probably really go to their head. Especially when there are drugs involved on top of that.

M. Hockenbrink: With all that fondness of doom that can be found with Ghost, that universe also has something humorous about it, benign even. It that an intentionally included contradiction?

T. Forge: Yes, and it is also very important to me that it comes across like that. For me that also has something to do with the evolution of metal. Originally it was mostly a phenomenon connected to the youth, nowadays the musicians and their fans are close to retiring. That brings a certain maturity. Even the Norwegian black metal musicians who were super pissed and extreme 30 years ago and were only made of hate and aggression are well-adjusted people now. Bearded fathers and grandfathers with a pleasant view on life that make others laugh. I see a certain duality there. Everything that has something to do with goth, with metal, with horror, appears dark, dismal and hostile at first. But in reality, that can all be extremely life-affirming and a source of great joy for many people. So pretty much the opposite.

M. Hockenbrink: Speaking of horror: could you imagine making a real feature film some day?

T. Forge: Yes, I would love that. I’m well aware that it’s not going to be easy to make what I’m picturing a reality, just because I’ve done directing once with [RHRN] now. The creative liberty I got to enjoy there also was due to the fact that I funded the movie myself. So nobody was meddling with it. That is likely completely different when you work on behalf of a big studio, because we are talking about different sums here. If I only go off my dreams, I would name two points of reference. One is Shining, the other Bram Stoker’s Dracula by Francis Ford Coppola. I would like to make a movie that’s only shot in a studio, with elaborate sets, matte painting and all that. No outside shots, no special effects, no green screen. And no actors who only gets to see what they were actually doing after the fact. Proper old-school. The way movies are actually meant to look.

#the band ghost #rite here rite now #rhrn #tobias forge #papa emeritus iv

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xmissrogersx · 1 month ago

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Hello, again | Pedro Pascal

tags: fangirl journalist, pedro being sweet, argentina language.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

The comic-con was booming when we arrived. Thousands of characters passed by walking around us.

-I’ve never seen so many spidermans in my life.

-I think they agreed this year -I said looking for my pass.

-You don't think we should have dressed like that, do you? -asked another guy from the set.

-We are press, I don't know if it was ideal.

-Personally, I would have put on my Darth Vader suit -he said proudly, to which we laughed under our breath.-What is funny?

-Oh, nothing, it's just that it's very... basic? -my partner replied, to which they started a discussion from which I quickly escaped.

I saw the Star Wars stand, where the merchandise was simply amazing. A little Grogu stuffed animal caught my attention.

-Can I see it?

-Of course! -the seller exclaimed. I smiled to take it in my hands, stepping back to let other buyers look.

Suddenly, my right foot slipped slightly, making me lose my balance. But out of nowhere I felt a hard surface against my back, making me collide with something, or rather with someone.

-Sorry, I didn't see...

-Calm down, don't worry. Are you okay? -exclaimed a somewhat strange voice, to which he looked up to notice the helmet on.

-Yes, I'm fine, thank you Mando -I answered obviously, to which he laughed.

-I'm flattered to know that you know me, miss...

-Priscilla.

-Priscilla -hearing my name with his modified voice sent an electric shock through my spine.-Are you coming for work?

-Oh, yes. I came with a group of colleagues, whom I have already completely lost. I must make a report to someone from the convention.

-You can do it to me, no problem.

-Excuse me? -mierda, i’m an idiot. How would I react if the greatest of my fantasies in my head were starred by the man who was supposedly in front of me.

-That you can make me the report, I will gladly help you.

-Really? Thank you very much...

-Din, Din Djarin -he exclaimed, to which I laughed, nodding with an obvious head.

He looked at his wrist, reading the time on his watch.

-I have a presentation in 20 minutes, in the main room, in case you want to go.

-I would love to -I nodded and smiled again.

-Your smile is beautiful -he blurted out, leaving me static and sending the electricity again, and then leaving.

I went to the main room, which was already full. I only managed to stand at the bottom. Instantly, all those who were going to show up came out, to which everyone began to applaud effusively.

-Wow, it's incredible that cosplay generates this.

-This is not the cosplay presentation -my partner Honey turned to me, to which I arched an eyebrow.

-I don't understand, they're playing...

-They don't play them, they are the cast of The Mandalorian, they are promoting the movie. Remember you show me the photos of the promo last week. You are the biggest fan of Din Djarin, and doesn’t know it?

-Then...

It was him. Her dark brown hair, which combined with her brown eyes. Television didn't do him justice. And only a moment ago he had been in front of me.

-Pris, are you okay? -she shook my arm, taking me out of my trance.

-Yes, yes... I think -I stammered.

I spend the conference between applause and laughter. Every time he answered a question from the audience, he smiled genuinely. Holy God, his smile already provoked in me too much, but in person it upset me.

Miss, come with me, please -someone spoke to my right.

-Excuse me? -I frowned.

-Come with me, he requested your presence behind -the man pointed out, to what accompanies him.

We crossed a curtain, and then reached a corridor with several doors.

-It's here, come in and wait -he finished and then withdrew. I entered doubtfully, not understanding why I was there.

After 10 minutes, the door handle moved, causing me to paralyze. His figure entered the room. He was wearing the helmet again.

-Sorry for the delay.

-No, don't worry, they brought me a few minutes ago -I nodded, closing my eyes a little in shame, already feeling the blush on my face.-In my head that sounded different, I swear.

He laughed, denying slightly. He raised his hands to the helmet to take it off. I think I've never felt in my life to hold my breath for so long.

-Hello again -he said, raising his right lip up.

-Hi... -I replied stupidly because of my trance, which I didn't want him to notice.

-I have a proposal to make you. I help you with your report, only if you agree to be my guide to show me the city -my expression detonated in amazement instantly.

-Is this your first time in Buenos Aires?

-Something like that, but I would like to see it through you.

la puta madre.

He extended his right hand towards me, to which I replied the greeting even repeating his words in my mind.

-Pedro.

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charcubed · 30 days ago

Text

Doctor Odyssey thoughts after the penultimate episode!

Or more accurately... Doctor Odyssey "worst case scenario crash out" exploration of a sorts, with some thoughts I've been sitting on without sharing for a bit:

• I'm staying in line for ODY3 and hopefully renewal because I'm incredibly stubborn, but more importantly because I personally find it more fun/rewarding to have excitement and "hope" about the shows and storylines I enjoy until the (possibly bitter) end. I don't find it fun to make myself truly miserable preemptively when watching something.

• I don't think it's an accident that this finale storyline involves a "group wedding" in language even if we don't get to see it in practice (more on that later), and also that the ship's got double booking going on as they're overrun with passengers. I think the intent/setup for some possible throuple follow-through is deliberately all there and so close we can taste it.

• However. That being said:

• We all have eyes and brains. I don't need to recount all the ways the throuple has felt like more of a love triangle and less like a throuple for several episodes, even since the absolute emotional peak and gorgeous cinema of Hot Tub Week seemingly put us back on track. Some of that was for episode reordering reasons, yes... but there hasn't been a ton of effort to course correct since, and overall in the back half of the season we also haven't gotten much Tristan/Max interactions either which has fucked with the characters' dynamics.

• Setting aside the boys' side of the triangle though: the bare minimum hope now is for Avery to choose them both, and for the boys' part to be either hinted at or developed in a second season. This is what we've been reduced to hoping for at this point with one episode to go, right? Manifesting it regardless.

• But!

• Look. Doctor Odyssey's been a miraculous gem of a show since day one that drew us all in because it had clarity of purpose about showcasing diversity in different kinds of people, love, and relationships, and because it was very obviously intended to have the thesis of a polyamorous slow burn love story. That is the show's premise and its point, and that's also the reason why it's felt like it's been floundering a bit as that point became decentralized. The reason why it's so miraculous that the show's been accomplishing all of what it's done so far is that it's on network fucking television. Network TV is infamous for the restrictions it operates under (the cast talked about this in interviews in regards to the threesome choreography a little) and the censorship of queer storylines that tends to befall it because of executive oversight.

• Censorship is why we have subtext and queercoding, and also why people's use of the word "queerbaiting" is nearly always bullshit that erases nuance and the acknowledgement of the constraints queer storytelling is often put under. But I digress.

• All this to say: this ain't my first rodeo. It likely isn't yours either. And there is, unfortunately, a non-zero possibility that – despite its miraculous existence – Doctor Odyssey as a show did not get to evade the crush of the censorship boot and network executive interference indefinitely. Especially after coming back from hiatus.

• That statement ^^^ stands on its own merit, because I think at this point it can be a hypothesis that holds up based on a lot of storyline and character dynamic shifting we've been seeing. It's not a wild thing to think.

• But here is where I also put my conspiracy hat on for a quick second, as a treat. Last episode, when we heard the Captain say to Max, "It got me thinking about the future and life after the Odyssey. Family. Love. But you just can't make someone else want the things that you want. So I’ve taken the next-best course: accept and surrender"... I was like, hmmm. What I'd LIKE for that to mean, in the style of unsubtle typical Doctor Odyssey foreshadowing, is an eventual "accept and surrender" to a throuple scenario. But in the moment, the dark second thing that occurred to me for its potential meaning was a worst case scenario option: that that line is potentially extra-narratively about having to accept and surrender to doing more of a love triangle than polyamory.

• Here's why: The Captain is the consistent mouthpiece of love and support for the OT3 in our show. I adore him. He is the captain of the ship, pun intended. "The three of you take care of each other. I like seeing that," for example. When Captain Massey speaks of what he wants for our trio, it's what we (and likely the creative team behind the story) want too. So him saying he couldn't make someone want what he wanted... It did make me wonder if it was a small warning.

• (Also worth noting that, in a semi-abrupt turn, this was about how the Captain just lost the baby he was so excited to have. The baby and life he accepted he was ready to move forward + embrace in the Hot Tub Week episode, which was also our peak ODY3 indication episode. Captain lost his baby... did we lose ODY3? And so on. He is also about to be removed from his position of authority as Captain in the final episode of the season, based on the promo; whether he'll be reinstated by the end of it remains to be seen, but of course I hope so from a character perspective as part of a happy-ish ending.)

• Yes, this all sounds bananas. But remember, the Captain's lines aside, my point here is that this is still network TV, and there is no end to the amount of things network executives can decide to turn around and stifle when it comes to queer stories.

• Part of this is because I'm still thinking about that Disney exec's quote about a possible Doctor Odyssey renewal. We've all seen it:

"I really love Doctor Odyssey, I think it’s a wildly inventive show, and we’re doing everything we can to support it. That decision ultimately lies with Ryan Murphy, whether Ryan wants to continue to do it, and he feels like there’s stories to tell that he feels confident in."

• I have quietly felt like this quote was some level of bullshit from the moment I read it lol. Again, this is all conjecture, BUT: there is a non-zero possibility that the execs gave Ryan Murphy an ultimatum about no longer doing polyamory, and since that's the premise of the show, he is stuck struggling to figure out where the show can go from here. Which is maybe why it's a decision (but not much of one) that the execs say Ryan Murphy has to make, which positions him as the bad guy who has to take the fallout from fans if he ostensibly ~just decides not to continue the story~ if renewal doesn't happen.

• So. With aaalllll that in mind, this is my Responsible Posting moment before the finale next week (and God I'm tired of having to write this type of post. But this ain't my first rodeo):

• If we do end on some fuckass "Avery chooses Max in the love triangle and Tristan's heart is broken" type of worst case scenario story, and especially if we don't get renewal after that, it will suck so fucking bad. SO bad. It'll be a tragedy after all the potential. In my stubbornness, even as I type this, I still have some level of belief that won't be the case and that even if we don't get explicit throuple we'll somehow get a secret third thing lol. But I'm preemptively holding up the Hot Tub Week episode (and these words from the director of it) and shaking it like a rag doll to remind everyone that that episode was crystal fucking clear and given to us as a gift that works as an optional "I've decided the story ends here" if we need it to be. That is not an accident, or queerbaiting, or whatever-the-fuck-else people will start calling it (and the threesome, and the multiple explicit poly relationships we got on network TV, and all the other queerness this show gave us) if this goes south. I'm saying this now in advance in case it ends up being needed: You aren't insane, this show wasn't stringing you along maliciously, what we did get was still beautiful, shit happens when it comes to network TV even in the big year of 2025, yes we can and will crash out but we can do so with nuance without blaming creatives who fight for the stories we love rather than the people above them who limit their work, Goddammit.

• And! And. If we do get a fuckass ending, I will personally also be perceiving and witnessing and pointing to whatever throuple crumbs we may get in between the fuckery. Because if NOTHING ELSE, I do have faith those crumbs will be there despite any bullshit. The creators of this show knew what they were making, and if they weren't allowed to make it properly anymore, then... it may be a situation where they did what they could, and so I'll be doing what I can to glean the hints at that.

• I hope this makes sense.

• TL;DR: if they leave the throuple behind for a love triangle "resolution" type of ending in the eleventh hour, remember how we got here and understand how we got here and know where to direct your ire.

• Thank you for coming to my TED talk. This was written out of caution and minor foreboding but hopefully it'll all become unnecessary.

• Now let's get this ODY3 + renewal anyway despite it all. Yes? Yes.

#doctor odyssey #ODY3 #may I offer you all an essay in this trying time #this is longer than it needs to be but as I said I've been sitting on it lol. and it's part vent session so whatever allow me #me reading this back: God sometimes I write like a crazy person. well at least AI can’t do this #‘foreboding’ and ‘fuckass’ in the same post.

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pankowcrumbs · 3 months ago

Text

Slip up - Tom Holland X Male reader (requested)

MasterList

The audience erupted in cheers as the house band struck up a lively tune, and the camera panned to Jimmy Fallon grinning ear to ear behind his desk. "Ladies and gentlemen, you know him, you love him, the one and only Tom Holland!"

I watched from the sofa in our living room as Tom bounded onto the stage, waving enthusiastically at the crowd before shaking Jimmy's hand and taking his seat. I chuckled to myself. He always had so much energy, like an excitable puppy who had just discovered a new toy.

"Tom! My man! It's great to have you back!" Jimmy enthused, clapping his hands together. "You're everywhere right now Spider-Man, a brand-new film in the works, and of course, the internet can't get enough of you."

Tom laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, stop it, Jimmy. You're making me blush."

The interview was going smoothly the audience erupted into laughter as Tom animatedly recounted a behind-the-scenes mishap from his latest film. His natural charm and infectious energy made him a favourite on late-night talk shows, and tonight was no different. Seated across from the host, Tom gestured wildly as he spoke, grinning as the crowd reacted to his story.

“So there I was,” Tom continued, barely suppressing his own laughter, “dangling upside down in the Spidey suit, and the director calls ‘cut’ but instead of letting me down, they just leave me there! I was stuck for, like, ten minutes.”

The host chuckled. “I feel like this happens to you a lot.”

“Way more than I’d like to admit,” Tom admitted, shaking his head. “Honestly, it was ridiculous. When they finally let me down, I just lay on the floor for a bit, questioning my life choices.”

The audience roared with laughter. Tom relaxed into his seat, still smiling, clearly enjoying himself.

“So, Tom, I’ve got to ask when you’re not being left hanging upside down, what do you do in your free time? How do you unwind?” the host asked, shifting the conversation.

Tom shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual. Spend time with my mates, go for a run, watch films, annoy my husband.”

It happened so fast. So casually. The words had left his mouth before he even registered what he had said. The host blinked. The audience went silent for half a second before the entire studio erupted into loud gasps, cheers, and murmurs.

Tom furrowed his brows, confused at first. And then it hit him.

Oh.

Oh, no.

His eyes widened as he realised the weight of his words. The host’s mouth had dropped open in shock before he quickly recovered, grinning like he had just been handed the scoop of the century.

“Wait, wait, wait HUSBAND?” The host leaned forward, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Did you just say husband?”

Tom visibly stiffened. His hand instinctively went to the back of his neck, a telltale sign of his nervousness. He let out a breathless chuckle, his face already turning a deep shade of red. “Uhh…”

The crowd lost it. Cheers, applause, and excited chatter filled the studio. People in the audience were looking at each other with wide eyes, as if confirming they had all just heard the same thing.

“I...I mean, yeah?” Tom stammered, running a hand through his curls. He was so red now that he probably rivalled the Spider-Man suit. He could practically feel Twitter breaking in real-time.

The host laughed, shaking his head. “Tom, my guy, did you just accidentally come out as married on live television?”

Tom let out a nervous laugh, burying his face in his hands for a moment before peeking up at the audience, who were all watching him with amused anticipation. “I think I did.”

The cheers only grew louder.

“Okay, okay,” the host said, holding up his hands to quieten the crowd. “We need details. When did this happen? Who is the lucky guy?”

Tom sighed, knowing there was no going back now. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not like we were trying to hide it or anything. We just… never announced it publicly.”

The host arched an eyebrow. “And you didn’t think people would want to know that Tom Holland is off the market?”

Tom laughed, still visibly flustered. “I mean, I figured it’d come out eventually, just not… like this.”

“And you still haven’t told us who he is!” The host pressed, eyes twinkling.

Tom hesitated for a moment before sighing dramatically. “Fine. My husband is…” He paused for effect, watching as the entire studio leaned in. “Y/N L/N.”

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

The crowd erupted, people gasping, clapping, and screaming all at once. The host jumped out of his chair, pacing in exaggerated shock. “Y/N L/N? THE Y/N L/N?”

Tom laughed at the reaction, nodding. “Yes, that Y/N L/N.”

Y/N L/N was one of the biggest actors of their generation. A critically acclaimed talent, known for both blockbuster hits and deeply moving indie films. He had won multiple awards, starred in some of the biggest franchises in Hollywood, and had been the subject of endless speculation regarding their love life.

And now, Tom Holland had just casually confirmed that they were married.

“This is insane,” the host said, fanning himself dramatically. “I feel like the entire internet is imploding as we speak.”

Tom let out a small groan, rubbing his face. “Oh, mate, I am so in trouble.”

The host grinned mischievously. “Well, you know what you have to do now, right?”

Tom looked at him warily. “What?”

“Call him.”

The audience cheered in agreement, chanting, “Call him! Call him! Call him!”

Tom shook his head, laughing nervously. “Oh, this is such a bad idea.”

“Come on, you’ve already spilled the tea, might as well go all the way.” The host smirked. “Put him on speaker.”

Tom sighed dramatically but pulled out his phone. “Alright, alright, but if he kills me, this is on you.”

He tapped on Y/N’s contact and pressed the call button. The ringing filled the studio, the anticipation growing with every second. Then

“Hello?”

Y/N’s voice rang out through the speakers, smooth and amused. The audience cheered again, and Tom could already tell from his tone that Y/N knew exactly why he was calling.

“Hey, love,” Tom said sheepishly, running a hand over his face. “Sooo… funny story.”

Y/N chuckled. “Yeah, I know. I’m watching.”

The host’s eyes widened. “Y/N! Welcome to the show...sort of.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, clearly entertained. “I didn’t expect to be part of the show tonight, but here we are.”

Tom groaned, leaning back in his chair. “I really put my foot in it this time, didn’t I?”

Y/N laughed. “Oh, absolutely. The moment you said ‘husband’ I knew you were done for.”

The audience laughed along, loving every second of this unexpected reveal.

“So, Y/N, since we have you here,” the host said, grinning, “can you tell us how did you guys keep this under wraps for so long?”

Y/N hummed. “Well, we never really hid it. We just didn’t go out of our way to announce it. If people figured it out, great. If not, no big deal.”

Tom huffed. “Until I went and blurted it out on live TV.”

Y/N chuckled. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that. But hey, at least now we don’t have to be sneaky anymore.”

The host grinned. “And now the world knows. I have to say, this might be the best accidental celebrity reveal of all time.”

Tom sighed. “Glad I could entertain you all.”

The audience cheered, absolutely loving the moment.

“Well, Y/N,” the host said, “thank you for taking Tom’s call. And congratulations to you both you’re officially Hollywood’s new favourite couple.”

Y/N laughed. “Thanks. Just don’t let Tom embarrass me too much, yeah?”

“No promises,” the host teased.

Tom groaned playfully. “I am never living this down.”

The audience erupted into another round of applause as the call ended. The moment would go down in history as one of the most iconic late-night television moments ever and the official confirmation that Tom Holland and Y/N L/N were, in fact, married.

And Tom? Well, he was just hoping he wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch when he got home.

#tom holland #tom #holland #Tom Holland x Male reader #male reader #he/him #reader #tom holland x reader #fanfiction #x reader #one shot #requested #spiderman #Celeb reader #celebrity reader

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peachhcs · 1 month ago

Note

What would happen if a player publicly made it known that he has a crush on Sammy and asked her out on live television. How and what would Will do? How would he react?

oooh omg wait that would be such fun little drama. i loveee writing a good jealousy trope. i feel like will would get really jealous, especially if it happens at a game he's playing at like someone from the other team. samy being samy would find it cute, but one look at will and he'd be like seething through his teeth because shouldn't everyone know she's his??

ok this is lowkey unrealistic bc what hockey player is gonna confess their love on live tv like this but let’s just go with it 🤗

au masterlist

the sharks were playing well tonight, but islanders had the upper hand with a 3 point lead. the new york team was kind of killing them, but the boys wouldn't let that show. they were determined to scrape up any points they could manage in the 2nd period to hopefully bring it together in the 3rd.

will was up there with the older guys searching for points. him and mack were a power duo, but it unfortunately wasn't enough to pull them ahead. not to mention, there was a kid on this team will wasn't too fond of.

finn connors was one of the new rookies for the islanders after coming up from the ahl. for the past few weeks, he'd been making remarks on his twitter about samy, basically trying to flirt with her as will put it. it was starting to drive the blonde up the wall because why did this 21 year old think it was okay to basically flirt with his girlfriend like that? when will found out they were playing one another tonight, he couldn't wait to give the connors kid a run for his money.

samy was in the stands front and center. she disagreed with will about finn flirting with her, making the excuse that it was stupid to flirt with someone over twitter. plus, he had nothing to worry about. samy didn't even know finn. unfortunately, will continued to think otherwise. he trusted samy, but he did not trust finn. he knew the reputation hockey players had and while will couldn’t really talk because he was a hockey player himself, something about finn wasn’t rubbing him the right way.

the 2nd period ended 3-2. samy clapped for her boyfriend as he followed his teammates back down the tunnel. fans stood up to grab snacks or a bathroom break during intermission. the soccer players waved to some of them who recognized her, offering photos for those who wanted one. she was completely oblivious to the intermission interviews happening down on the ice, specifically with finn.

“so finn, tell us about the 2nd period. your team has been pulling ahead,” the reporter questioned as their interview appeared on the jumbotron.

“yeah, i mean we’re just giving it all we got and it’s paying off. it’s awesome with it being my first game in the nhl and all,” the boy smiled.

“how does it feel to be playing with these guys now?”

“i love it. they’re such a great team and they’ve really made me feel like i’m at home.”

“what are you looking forward to being on this team and being in the nhl?” the lady wondered and finn thought for a moment.

“honestly just meeting new people and playing some good hockey. it’s been a dream of mine to play up like this and i couldn’t be more grateful to finally get to do it. i owe it all to my teams past. i’ve definitely already made some great connections too,” the brunette chuckled.

“anyone special?”

samy finally started paying attention the the interview. she’s seen a lot of pre and post game interviews before and she definitely thought this one was on the more stranger side. the reporter seemed a lot more interested in finn’s personal life than the game at hand considering the reporters generally just asked the players about how the game was going. instead, it felt like the arena was getting an entire backstory about finn. she watched the way the boy blushed at the lady’s question while her own skin paled a bit.

maybe will wasn’t so wrong after all..

“well, there is someone who i’ve got my eye on. i actually think she’s in the crowd right now..” finn’s gaze flickered up to the stands while the others started “ooing” and wondering who he could be talking about.

“well do tell,” the reporter encouraged.

finn finally made eye contact with samy up in the stands and the girl’s heart dropped.

“i see her right up there. samy hughes, i think you’re one of the coolest girls around. i’d love it if i could take you out sometime,” finn said confidently and proudly despite knowing samy was in fact already taken.

the other fans around her cheered while samy completely froze. this had never happened to her before nor did she know what to do except stand there while the camera panned to her in the crowd. at least some of the other fans around her were confused and booed because they knew she was taken already.

will, on the other hand, had watched the entire thing from inside the locker room with a fuming expression. his teammates were shocked by what just happened out there.

“what the fuck?” eklund exclaimed.

mack glanced at his friend’s expression, about to say something but will bolted from the bench and pushed past everyone else to get out there. he wasn’t even fully dressed in his gear as he skated back onto the ice.

his anger was too strong to stop what he was about to do. how could someone willingly ask his girlfriend out on live tv knowing she was already taken? did none of those things matter to the piece of shit hockey player? will was angry.

samy saw him skate on and she could already see the anger radiating from his body. she finally came to her senses seeing will on the ice darting towards finn and the reporter.

it happened so fast.

will lifted his balled fist and the next thing he knew his knuckles were colliding with finn’s jaw and the other boy was falling backwards. the entire crowd gasped. the other sharks players were rushing onto the ice, but they were too late as will went in for another punch.

the islanders were on the ice moments later too and the next thing samy saw was an entire fight breaking out.

her phone was blowing up in her pocket probably from all of her friends who were watching the stream.

“will! will, chill out man!” mack tried pulling the blonde away as more punches were given out in the chaos.

“don’t you ever fucking dare think about going after my girl again!” will yelled at finn who bled all over the ice from his broken nose.

one of the older islanders got in between and took will down in one quick punch. something cracked as the boy stumbled back into mack.

“hey! hey! get off him!” toffoli was in the middle now trying to mediate. the refs got themselves on to try and stop the fight.

samy stood there in a daze. she saw her boyfriend bleeding from somewhere while holding his jaw and finn pouring blood from his nose. it was becoming too much for her and she needed to leave, so she did. she quickly hurried out of her seat and up the stands. she knew will got aggressive on the ice sometimes, but she’d never seen him like that before..so..possessive and so..jealous.

the fight finally broke. will skated off with a broken jaw, nasty bruises, and a half broken nose. finn wasn’t any better as the medics got him a towel to hopefully slow the bleeding.

“dude, what the hell happened?” mack asked as will sat down with a towel.

“he deserved it,” the blonde mumbled.

“dude,” mack shook his head.

“dude? he fucking asked her out on live tv. he knows i’m her boyfriend,” will snapped angrily.

“that doesn’t mean you go and punch him until you break his nose,” the brunette grumbled.

“and what else am i supposed to do? sit back and let it happen?”

“yeah, you let it go. he’s not worth fighting like that. jesus,” mack let the medic look at will’s nose and jaw that had swelled significantly. he went to go look for samy instead after seeing her escape from her seat.

the younger hockey player found her outside the arena. she was pacing back and forth when she saw mack.

“you okay?” he called to her.

“yeah, i-i think so. it just..caught me off guard,” samy mumbled.

“i-i don’t know what got into him. he’s never usually like that..” mack frowned when he saw the slight fear in the girl’s eyes that she wasn’t expressing.

“i’ve just never seen him so..angry before? i don’t know,” the girl frowned and sunk onto the bench. mack slid in beside her.

“it was uncalled for and he shouldn’t have done that. i don’t know what his problem was.”

“he was jealous of finn. he has been for awhile. i didn’t actually think finn would like..try to..do that. i..i..i just didn’t know what to do. i froze. i looked like an idiot and then will just..there was so much blood,” samy stuttered a little as she remembered seeing the blood spread across the ice and the way finn’s hand was covered as he tried stopping it before getting a towel.

“i can call blaire if you wanna go. i’ll talk to will,” mack offered which samy appreciated because maybe she did need to just leave and settle down before making any rash decision.

“yeah, actually. that’d be great. thanks mack,” samy managed a small smile.

“yeah, of course. i’ll go call her.”

blaire picked samy up 20 minutes later after her skating practice ended. she took the brunette back to her dorm while mack went back in to talk to will, hoping he was calmed down a little bit more.

will was inside the locker room in the corner. it was silent which never meant anything good. mack eyed his teammates as he went to will.

“how are you?” he wondered.

“this shit hurts like hell,” will mumbled.

“well, yeah. you broke your jaw,” the younger rookie stated. the blonde rolled his eyes though.

“i think you really freaked samy out. she left. blaire picked her up,” the boy continued.

“she left?”

“yeah, will. you fucking punched a guy until he bled to death. that’s..fucking scary,” macklin stated simply and the realization slowly set into will’s features.

“i scared her?”

macklin nodded and he watched his friend deflate and the reality of what just happened finally started to set in more.

“holy shit,” will mumbled.

“give her some time, but i’d talk to her. i think she’s just..startled is all,” the younger boy advised.

—

“and then he just..punched him. like..full swing and everything,” samy explained while blaire’s eyes widened.

“what? no way..i didn’t even know will had that in him,” the girl exclaimed.

“yeah, me neither..” samy was still thinking about earlier and how her boyfriend took finn down without any hesitation.

she knew will would never intentionally hurt her but she couldn’t help but think how badly he could hurt her if something ever were to happen. she would be quite defenseless..and not to mention how any guy was capable of something like that.

the whole idea just wasn’t sitting right with samy. she knew she had nothing to be scared of when it came to will, but seeing him like that tonight was like seeing a whole other side of him she’s never known.

“shit, samy. that’s..crazy stuff. i don’t even know what to say,” blaire admitted.

“it’s okay, i wouldn’t know what to say either,” the brunette frowned.

the door opened and blaire’s roommate came in. she smiled a bit, “hey. uh..just so you know, will’s downstairs. he’s asking for you, samy.”

the girl’s face paled. she looked at blaire who nodded encouragingly. “you should talk to him.”

samy glanced between the two girls before slowly getting off of the bed and slipping her sneakers on. she slipped out of the door and to the stairs where she braced herself for the worst.

through the door windows, she could see will sitting on one of the couches, slumped down with his hood up, probably so no one really recognized him. samy took a deep breath before pushing the door open and making herself known.

“hey,” she mumbled.

will’s head shot up and that’s when she saw the massive bruising all along his jaw and up his eyes. a small gasp escaped her lips.

“hey,” the boy croaked.

“is that all from..”

will nodded. samy shut her mouth and froze herself in front of him. the boy coughed and then sat up a bit more. “i’m sorry you had to see that.” he began.

“i had no idea you could punch like that,” samy said.

“i shouldn’t have gotten so angry..i just..i was mad because it felt like he just didn’t care that i was your boyfriend and he just wanted to get a rise out of me. i know that’s not an excuse though and i shouldn’t have punched him like that. i should have let it go and not done that in front of everyone,” will admitted upright which samy appreciated. she didn’t think she’d get an apology so soon.

“you know i would’ve said no anyway, right? you know i know i’m yours. some stupid ahl player isn’t gonna change that for me. no one could change the way i feel about you, will,” samy said and the boy frowned.

“i know, i know and i trust you. i never thought you would do anything..i just..i don’t know. i got mad and i shouldn’t have. i should have kept my cool and just ignored him,” the boy hung his head and samy frowned.

she finally sat down beside him and carefully inched her fingers under his chin so he’d look at her. she examined the sensitive purple skin and the way will’s jaw was swollen. he winced a bit under her touch.

“it’s surprising how this isn’t the first time,” samy hummed and will flushed.

“i guess i have to control my jealousy issues,” he admitted.

“maybe. it..is kind of hot but not when you’re punching someone to the point where they’re bleeding everywhere,” the soccer player said and will nodded.

“right.”

she rubbed his skin and then slowly brought his face closer so she could peck his cheek. his skin heated up and a bright blush spread across his face.

“are you scared of me?” will asked because he’d hate himself if he made samy scared of him forever after tonight.

“no, i’m not. i was just shaken up earlier is all. you could never scare me, will,” she said and kissed his cheek again. the blonde smiled and leaned forward to press his own lips to her cheek.

“i promise i’ll never let this happen again. i’ve learned my lesson,” he said.

“at least you have a cool story to tell now. fought a guy because i love my girlfriend,” samy’s laughter finally eased the tension away. the couple shared a quick kiss before deciding it was late and rest was very much needed.

samy grabbed her things from blaire’s room and headed back to will’s place where the couple would sleep until noon and ignore all the headlines forming about will’s fight.

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hotdaemondtargaryen · 11 months ago

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WRITER SARA HESS TALKING ABOUT RHAENYRA AND ALICENT'S RELATIONSHIP IN SEASON 1 AND THEIR MOTHERHOOD FOR VARIETY MAGAZINE.

“I can definitely understand that it’s hot watching complex female characters who have agency and who are trying to navigate the world and understand themselves. Like, that is hot,” nonbinary actor D’Arcy says.

“And is very different from, I suppose, more two-dimensional portrayals of female sexuality.” 

Cooke adds: “I guess what’s alluring, and quite scintillating, is that they all live in quite close proximity to each other,” noting “House of the Dragon” Season 1’s focus on keeping its characters near the Iron Throne in King’s Landing.

“Stealing these loaded looks with someone that you fancy and that’s forbidden, that’s hot. It’s all hot.”

“We had a lot of conversation at the beginning about, is this a feature or a flaw?” Hess says.

“There’s a lot of births, do we want to see a lot of births? My thinking was, every single childbirth I’ve ever seen on television, in any show, in any genre at any time, has always looked exactly the same: the woman lying on her back with her feet in the stirrups and doing the pushing and the baby comes out.”

“In my experience, women give birth in vastly different ways.”

“I thought we should show them all and they be really, really different, separate experiences and not just, now there’s that birth scene and we all know exactly what it looks like.”

FOLLOWING THE BIRTH SCENE IN EPISODE 6, D'ARCY RECALLS SHOOTING A PARTICULARLY REALISTIC MOMENT OF MOTHERHOOD WHEN RHAENYRA FINALLY GETS TO REST AFTER GIVING BIRTH AND IMMEDIATELY GOING OFF TO SHOW THE BABY TO ALICENT:

“She gets in and [her sons] Jace and Luke have gone and got a dragon’s egg and want her to look at it.”

“And I just remember responding, ‘Wow, that looks perfect,’ but not looking at them at all, I was looking in the other direction.

“And that felt like what a lot of parenting is probably like.”

FOR COOKE, THE MOTHERHOOD MENTALITY HIT IN EPISODE 9, WRITTEN BY HESS AND DIRECTED BY CLARE KILNER:

“That moment in the carriage where Alicent’s hungover son asks her if she loves him, and she says it by smiling and saying, ‘You imbecile.’

“Like, it’s so obvious, this is all for you.”

“Everything that I’ve done.”

“Everything that I’ve sacrificed.”

“All the awful things I’ve done in order to facilitate your ascension is because I love the bones of you.”

BUT MOTHERHOOD IS FAR FROM THE ONLY ASPECT OF A WOMAN'S LIFE THAT FEMALE WRITERS LIKE HESS AND WOMEN DIRECTORS INCLUDING KILNER AND PATEL INFUSED INTO THE STORY, WITH MUCH OF THE SEASON FOCUSING ON YOUNG ALICENT (EMILY CAREY) AND RHAENYRA (MILLY ALCOCK) AND THEIR DEEP BOND AND INTENSE FALLING OUT.

“There’s an element of queerness to it,” Hess says.

“Whether you see it that way or as just the unbelievably passionate friendships that women have with each other at that age.”

“I think understanding that element of it sort of informs the entire rest of their relationship… Even though they’re driven apart by all these societal, systemic elements and pressures and happenings, at the core of it, they knew each other as children, and they loved each other and that doesn’t go away.”

Hess continued: “Olivia has told me she believes — and this is her headcanon — that they at some point kissed or made out or had some kind of physical interaction that Alicent’s mother found out about and forbade.”

“And that was Olivia’s head story, ‘Oh, I can’t do that. That’s not right.’ And that’s the background for her in their relationship going forward. I would be 100% down with that.”

COOKE SAYS SHE AND D'ARCY HAVE “DEFINITELY” TALKED ABOUT ALICENT AND RHAENYRA BEING “EACH OTHER'S FIRST LOVE”:

“But when it comes to our iterations of the characters, too much has happened and too much time has passed to probably even recognize those fledgling feelings.”

“But Condal and Hess weren’t “necessarily interested in ever defining” what that love meant in terms of the women’s sexuality.”

“I happen to be a queer woman, but I know straight women who had ‘Heavenly Creatures’ -esque, romantic friendship with their best friend at that age,” Hess said.

“That’s something that I think, probably — I don’t want to stereotype anybody – but it seems to be more a phenomenon with young women than it is with men, probably because whether you’re queer or not, society cares less if you’re physically intimate with each other or hugging or touching each other.”

“You can have sleepovers and sleep in the same bed and nobody cares.”

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hunterkhean · 4 months ago

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Whb Incorrect quotes

I'm obsessed with this your Honor

Mammon: What are you doing here?

Beelzebub: I could ask you the same question.

Mammon: I live here. This is my house.

Beelzebub: I should probably ask you a different question.

Leviathan: What do you all intend on majoring in?

Mammon: Respecting women.

Satan: Minecraft.

Lucifer: Criminal justice and psychology.

Asmodeus: I'm terrified that I’ll lock myself into an interest that I’ll no longer be passionate about in a few years like all the other areas of study I’ve pursued over my life!

Beelzebub: Minecraft as well.

Kasory: I can’t believe my birth certificate says F.......How did I fail being born?

Leviathan: The salary of a clown is 51,000 dollars.

Leviathan, gesturing to Satan and Beelzebub fighting: And yet these idiots do it daily, and for free!

Bimet: Hey, aren’t you Stolas?

Stolas: You a cop?

Bimet: No.

Stolas: Then yes, I am.

Gamigin: My heart is guarded but like… very poorly. The kind of guards that would let 3 kids in a trench coat into an R rated movie.

Gabriel: Father, I have sinned.

Kasory: Daddy, I’ve been naughty

(two Type of angels-)

Leviathan: I’m the sexiest bitch in this therapy waiting room.

Gabriel: What makes you think it's okay to watch Hannibal given its subject matter?

Michael: Sometimes, I watch television shows for entertainment purposes.

Raphael: Because I condone murder and cannibalism.

Beelzebub: When do you usually go to sleep?

Kasory: Whenever I collapse is entirely up to the gods.

Mammon: I lost Satan.

Leviathan: How did you LOSE Satan?!

Mammon: To be fair, he is very small.

Beelzebub: Yeah, a partner sounds nice, but a supreme enemy you can make out with in secret sometimes sounds a lot more hardcore.

Gamigin: Any questions?

Leviathan: Uh, yeah, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

Gamigin: Uh, a plan, duh...

Foras: your Majesty Leviathan, chill, I know it’s weird, but Gamigin has a point.

Leviathan:....

Leviathan: THAT WAS LITERALLY A PONY DOODLE WITH A HAT!!

Kasory: Don’t you have any dignity, Ra-on?

Ra-on: Uh, no.

#whb #what in “hell” is bad? mc #what in “hell” is bad?#what in hell is bad #whb beelzebub #whb mammon #whb oc #whb satan #whb mc #whb leviathan #whb lucifer #whb gabriel #whb gamigin #whb michael #whb stolas #whb raphael #whb bimet #whb angels #whb foras

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winchesterwild78 · 5 months ago

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Unspoken Words pt 8

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, other characters

Warnings: Angst, Accusation of Cheating, Childbirth, SMUT!, fluff

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This one is about a single mother with a nonverbal autistic daughter who loves Supernatural. The reader is going to a Supernatural Convention with her daughter and things unfold from there. The daughter character is near and dear to my heart. I have someone very close to me who is nonverbal, but he’s such an amazing kid.

*Last chapter. Features a time jump or two. * This chapter got a bit long, sorry not sorry.

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Jensen is single in this story.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

*8th Month of Pregnancy*

Standing at the mirror I placed my hand on my belly. I couldn’t believe I was just over 8 months pregnant.

Lily was getting more excited about the babies. She was talking more and was helping me with the nursery.

Jensen had been working and gone filming a lot. He’d missed a few appointments but I understood. At the last ultrasound appointment they were going to tell me the genders but I asked them to wait.

My heart ached for Jensen to come home. I knew his job was important and I was so proud of him. I just missed him.

It was late at night and Lily was in bed. I had changed and glanced at myself in the mirror again.

I could feel the little kicks and flutters in my stomach, it made me smile. A pang of sadness filled my heart.

Chalking it up to the hormones I tried to push the thoughts away. I know Jensen loves me, Lily and our children, but I couldn’t help but feel alone and unwanted.

When Jensen would get home he’d be exhausted and focused on other things. He hadn’t touched me in about a month. My heart ached for his touch. I didn’t say anything to him because I didn’t want to add more stress to him.

Sarah encouraged me to talk to him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I took out my phone and sent him a text.

Me: Hey baby. Just wanted to tell you I miss you and can’t wait until you’re home. You’re still coming home in a few days, right?

I watched the bubbles appear and disappear several times before it stopped. No reply came in. My message was shown read.

Maybe he’s on set and glanced at his phone. He’ll message me when he can.

I sat on the couch and turned on the television for some background noise and honestly to try to pull me out of my head.

I dozed off around 1am and didn’t hear my phone go off. I slept for a few hours, waking up around 5:30am I glanced at my phone and saw a message notification from Jensen.

A smile crept across my face, but quickly faded when I read the text.

Jensen: Thank you for tonight. I needed to blow off some steam. You looked beautiful.

I swallowed hard and my heart pounded in my chest. I felt sick. Who was this message meant for?! Who did he go out with?

I opened Instagram and saw a ton of new pictures Jensen was tagged in. He was out at some bar with the cast of his latest project and there was a female co-worker hanging on him. He had a huge smile on his face. She was gorgeous. Young, skinny, and very beautiful. The total opposite of me. The kind of woman Jensen previously had on his arm.

My heart broke. What was I going to do? How can I raise three children on my own? I’ve been a fucking fool to think he would stay with me. I sobbed.

Not knowing what to do I followed the pictures back to the original post and it was from her account.

The original post talked about how lucky she felt to be welcomed to this crew and how much she admired Jensen and his kindness on and off the set. The next part made me want to vomit “Thanks Jens for an incredible night. You definitely know how to make a girl feel special. 🫶🏻❤️”

I took a screenshot and sent it to Sarah. She said she’d be right over.

I sobbed harder. My heart felt like it was breaking in my chest.

Sarah showed up about 15 minutes later and wrapped me in her arms. “Shh, sweetie. I’m sure there’s an explanation for this. Jensen loves you so much. He’s loyal to you.”

Sarah held me as I cried. “Y/N, think about the babies. You’ve got to calm down. This isn’t good for them.”

“No, what’s not good for them is their father cheating on their mother with a fucking child!” Sarah had sent Steve a text and told him what happened before she came over. He said he’d call Jensen and get to the bottom of it.

Sarah’s phone went off and it was a text from Steve.

Steve: No answer yet. I’ll keep trying. How’s she doing?

Sarah: She’s devastated. I’m really worried about her and the babies. God I hope he didn’t cheat on her.

Steve: I’ve known Jensen for decades, he’s really not that kind of guy. I promise.

Sarah: I hope he’s not.

“Y/N, come on sweetie take a deep breath.”

I took a breath in and let it out. Then I felt a sharp pain shoot through me. Sarah made me lay down and brought me some water. “You have to relax honey. This isn’t good for the babies.”

I nodded and tried to relax. My phone went off with a message notification. Sarah wouldn’t let me check it.

Jensen: Hey baby. Yeah. I’ll be home in a few days as long as filming runs smoothly. I love you and miss you too.

Sarah read the message and was pissed. He completely ignored the message he sent in the middle of the night. So Sarah sent a reply back.

Me: Jensen, this is Sarah. You might want to make sure you know who you’re texting before you send it. Y/N saw the text you meant to send some other woman and I’m here picking up the pieces. I swear to god if you’re cheating on her I’m going to cut off your balls! “You had a great time and you needed to blow off some steam and she was beautiful?!” Who the fuck sends another woman a message like that?

Jensen read the message from Sarah and scrolled up. He ran his fingers through his hair “Fuck! I’m so fucking stupid!”

I was laying on the couch and had Sarah help me up so I could use the bathroom. I sat down and then I saw blood. My heart started racing. When I stood up my water broke.

“Sarah, come quick!” Sarah ran to my side, seeing the blood and where my water broke she took my hand. “Okay, this is fine. Let me call Steve and see if he can come over for Lily so I can take you to the hospital.

“Sarah, I need Jensen. He should be here. Please call him.”

She nodded, helped me change and called Jensen.

Jensen saw my name pop up on his phone. He took a steady breath and answered it. “Hey baby. I know we need to talk.”

“Jensen, this is Sarah. You need to get home. Y/N’s in labor. You caused her to go into labor. Please leave your girlfriend there and get to the hospital.” Sarah’s voice dripped with anger and venom.

“Sarah, I don’t have, you know what, forget it. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please tell her I’m on my way and I love her.”

“Sure you do.” Then Sarah hung up.

I looked at Sarah, “He said he’s on his way and he loves you.” She scoffed.

“Sarah, please.” She sighed, “I’m sorry. It just pisses me off. You’re carrying his children and you’ve given up everything to be with him and this is how he repays you?”

“Sarah, please stop. He has a right to explain.” Another pain shot through my body. Steve had arrived and Sarah and I were on our way to the hospital.

I sent Jensen a text.

Me: Jens I’m so scared. Please get home safe and quickly.

Jensen: I’m boarding a flight now. I’m so sorry baby. I swear I didn’t cheat on you. I love you and our family.

Me: I hope not. I love you too. I don’t want to have these babies without you.

Jensen: I’m trying to get there as fast as I can.

Me: I know. We do have a lot to talk about, but first we need to focus on these babies.

I put my phone down as a contraction hit. Sarah pulled up to the Emergency Department and ran inside. She came back out with a nurse and wheelchair.

Helping me out of the car they wheeled me in.

I was immediately taken to labor and delivery and hooked up to the monitor.

My contractions were close, but not unbearable. I kept looking at the door hoping Jensen would walk in at any moment.

Sarah stood by my bed and held my hand during the contractions.

The doctor came in and checked me and said the babies seemed okay for now but we would keep monitoring them for any signs of distress. If there was any distress I’d have to have a c-section. I nodded in understanding.

A few hours later the contractions were closer and I was getting more worried Jensen wouldn’t make it.

The doctor came in and checked me, “Okay, it looks like you’re ready to have these babies. Are you ready?”

Tears started to fall, “No, it’s too early and Jensen isn’t here. Sarah, he should be here.”

She held my hand, “I know sweetie. He’s on his way. I’m right here.”

The doctor assured me once the babies were born they would be assessed quickly for any complications.

It was time to push and the doctor and nurses got me ready. Jensen still wasn’t there and my heart broke more.

“Sarah, does he really love me?” She wiped the tears away, “Oh Y/N I’m sure he does. He will be here soon.”

As if on cue Jensen walked in the door. Bag in hand and sunglasses and hat on top of his head.

He dropped his stuff and ran to my side, “Hey baby. I’m here.” He took my hand and kissed the top of my head. He looked at Sarah and then at the doctor. “How’s she doing? How’s the babies?”

The doctor explained to Jensen it was early, but the babies would be assessed and taken to the NICU if necessary.

Jensen nodded and kissed my head again. “I’m so sorry baby. We’ve got this. Come on baby, let’s meet our babies.”

I nodded and took his hand in mine.

About thirty minutes later the first baby was delivered. A healthy baby boy. The nurse took him to be assessed while I rested between deliveries.

Jensen wiped my forehead and fed me ice chips. He took a picture of the baby for me. “Jens, he’s beautiful. Thank you.” He kissed my lips, “God I love you so much, sweetheart. What do you say we deliver our next baby?”

The second baby moved into position and I was ready to deliver. I was exhausted but ready to meet my other baby. A few minutes of pushing, a tiny cry filled the room. I looked over and saw little legs and feet kicking wildly. I chuckled. Jensen walked over and took a picture.

“Is the baby okay?” I asked Jensen. He smiled, “She’s perfect. Real fighter like her mama.”

Tears filled my eyes, “We have a boy and a girl?” He kissed me, “Yeah we do baby. They are perfect.”

Sarah gave me a hug and kissed my head, “You did great sweetie. I’m gonna call Steve and let him know.” I nodded and thanked her.

As she walked out of the room Jensen followed her.

“Hey, Sarah. Wait up please.” Sarah turned and looked at Jensen. He could tell she was pissed.

“What Jensen?” “I just wanted to tell you thank you for taking care of her and making sure our babies were safe.”

She stepped closer to him and poked his chest, “You don’t have to thank me. She’s like a sister to me. She wouldn’t have gone into labor if it wasn’t for your cheating ass.”

“Sarah, I’m not cheating on her. I never have and never would. I love her. It’s not an excuse but I got drunk. I went out with the cast and we got drunk. The text was meant for someone else, but it’s not what you think. She was arguing with her boyfriend and some woman at the bar told her she looked like a cheap hooker, then kissed her boyfriend. She was devastated. I’ve known her for years, she’s like a sister to me. I can call her right now to clear all this up. Look, I know I fucked up and if there is anything wrong with my children I know it’s my fault, but I need you to believe me. I love Y/N and I have since the moment I met her.”

Sarah stood shocked. She saw the pain in Jensen’s eyes and she couldn’t stop feeling he was telling her the truth.

Sarah took a deep breath and touched his arm, “Jensen, go to her side. Tell her everything you told me. She loves you and I know you love her. You might have to call that friend, but if you truly mean it and love Y/N then you fight for her.”

He nodded and they hugged. Sarah walked away to call Steve and Jensen returned to my side.

I was being transferred to a private room. Jensen came in the room with his bag and set it in a chair. I was laying in the bed and looked over at him.

He smiled softly “Hey baby. How are you feeling?” “I’m okay. Sore, but okay. I’m glad you made it. Have you heard anything about the babies?”

He shook his head no, “No, but I can go find out if you want me to.”

I reached out my hand, “No, I think we should talk first.” He looked down solemnly, “Yeah. I think so too.”

Silence filled the room. Neither of us knew what to say or how to start the conversation. The weight of it all hung heavy in the air.

Jensen sat beside me and took a deep breath, “Baby I swear I have never nor would I ever cheat on you. The text was meant for my friend, Leah, but it’s not what you think. We all went out last night to celebrate wrap. Leah was there with her boyfriend and they started fighting. Some woman at the bar said she looked like a hooker and then kissed Leah’s boyfriend. She was devastated. I’ve known her for years, she’s like a sister to me. I just wanted to let her know she looked beautiful. I swear I didn’t mean it any other way. I love you and I’d never do anything to jeopardize what we have. I know I screwed up and you going into labor early is my fault. If there is anything wrong with our children that’s on me.”

Tears filled his eyes. I didn’t know what to say.

I lifted my hand to his face and gently touched him. “Jens, it’s not your fault our babies came early. I should have trusted you and not gotten as upset as I did. I just let my brain run wild. I thought you didn’t want me anymore. You hadn’t touched me in a month and I was afraid you weren’t attracted to me anymore. I’m sorry Jensen. I should have talked to you about what was bothering me.”

“What?! How could I not be attracted to you? Look at you. You’re beautiful and sexy as hell. Your beautiful body made and carried all three of our babies. I could never thank you enough for that. I was afraid I’d hurt you having sex with you. The last time we had sex you were in pain for a few days. I didn’t want to hurt you again. I’m so sorry baby. I should have been honest with you.”

He leaned down, cupped my face and his lips ghosted mine. He stopped and didn’t move.

“Is this okay?” I nodded and he crashed his lips to mine. The kiss was full of need and regret. When he pulled away we looked into each other’s eyes, “I love you, Y/N, so much.” “I love you too, Jensen.”

About an hour later the doctor came in and gave us an update on the twins. They both passed their tests, but would be required to stay in the NICU for at least a week to get their lungs strong enough. She said we could go see them when I felt up to it.

I looked over at Jensen and he smirked, “She’s ready now, doc.” The doctor chuckled, “Okay, we’ll be careful and call the nurse before you get up.” We nodded and called the nurse.

She helped me up and we went to see the babies. We saw our son first. The nurse had me sit in the rocking chair and she put him on my chest. He was smaller than Lily was, but he looked good. He cooed and looked up at me.

I gasped softly, he had the most beautiful green eyes I’d seen since looking into Jensen’s.

The nurse smiled, “So do you two have a name picked out yet?” I looked at her and then Jensen, “Yeah his name is Michael Alan and her name is Josephine Marie.”

The nurse smiled, “Beautiful.” She looked at Jensen and said, “While mom is holding him do you want to hold your little girl?” Jensen smiled and nodded.

He sat in the rocking chair near her crib and the nurse handed the baby to Jensen.

He looked down at his little girl and smiled. She looked just like Lily, but she had his green eyes. He looked over at me and smiled. “She’s beautiful. She looks like her big sister.”

I reached my hand out and held his, “We made some beautiful babies. Didn’t we?” “Yeah we did. Thank you baby. Thank you for our beautiful little family.”

We held the twins for a while and switched. I looked over at Jensen holding our son and I saw the pride on his face. My little girl fell asleep in my arms. I watched her sleep and she reminded me so much of Lily it made my heart full.

We put the babies down to sleep and Jensen helped me back to the room. Sarah and Steve were bringing Lily to see me and the babies.

Lily came in and climbed on the bed. She looked at my stomach and put her hand on it, “Babies?” “Mommy had the babies. You have a baby brother and sister.” She looked at me and then Jensen. “See babies” she said looked at Jensen.

“Well they are in a special room because they were born early, but you can see them through the window.” Jensen said and she nodded.

“Hey, I’ll take her. You rest” Jensen said as he leaned down and kissed my head.

He scooped her up and started to carry her out. Steve went with them.

When they left Sarah looked at me. “What?” I asked. “Did you two work it out?” I nodded, “Yeah. He told me what happened.” “Do you believe him?” I shook my head yes.

“Okay, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You deserve to be loved.”

I touched her arm, “I know, and I am. He loves me and I trust him. We even talked about why we hadn’t had sex.”

“And? What was the reason?”

“The last time we had sex I hurt for a few days after. He was worried he’d hurt me again so he didn’t pursue it with me.”

“Was that true? Did you get hurt?”

“Yeah. I was in some pain afterwards. It wasn’t his fault, but yeah. I understand his hesitation.”

She hugged me, “Okay. Well I still meant what I said to him if he hurts you.” We both laughed, “I know. You’re mean that way.”

*Time Jump 3 Months*

“Jensen, can you grab Michael and dry him off and bring me Josie?”

Jensen came into the bathroom and we switched off the twins for bath time.

They were now 3 months old and growing. Jensen and I were a great team with them and Lily.

Jensen still made time to play with Lily and she even helped feed the babies. She would help get diapers and wipes, but never changed a diaper.

When we first brought the twins home, Lily had a hard time adjusting. She clung to Jensen for about a month. Anytime he left the house she went with him. I was worried she felt pushed to the side, but Jensen was great at helping her feel loved and cared for.

After bath time we fed the twins and put them down for bed. Lily had her bath and we read to her and put her to bed.

Jensen and I had some quiet time for the first time in a while. We usually had one kid awake or we were both so exhausted we fell asleep. Sometimes in our clothes.

Tonight, however, we were both wide awake.

He sat beside me on the couch and leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Hey beautiful, why don’t you go take a shower or bath and relax. If one of the kids wakes up I’ll take care of them. You can relax.”

I looked over at him. I wanted him, I needed him. It had been months. Between the pregnancy and birth we hadn’t had sex and I really wanted to feel him again.

I straddled his hips and leaned down kissing his lips. His hands grabbed my hips and pulled me close. “Jens, take me to our room.”

He leaned back and looked in my eyes, “Are you sure?”

I kissed him. Pouring all my love, need and desire into it. “Yes”.

He lifted me up and carried me to our room. I tried to protest, “Jensen, put me down. I weigh too much.”

“No you don’t, you’re perfect.”

He carried me to our room, closed the door with his foot and laid me on the bed.

He leaned down, his strong arms on either side of me. He smiled and kissed my lips softly.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I smiled, “Yeah, I’ve been told that a few times.”

Jensen chuckled and kissed me again. His hand slid down my body and to the hem of my shirt.

I bit my lower lip and my breath hitched. I could feel my desire course through my body. Jensen’s hand slipped under my shirt and to my breasts. He gently cupped them and I arched my back, moaning his name.

He pulled my shirt over my head. Jensen began licking and sucking each nipple. My fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to me.

He smirked against my skin as his hot breath caused goosebumps to erupt all over me.

Jensen slid his hands down to my waistband and past my panties. He felt how soaked I was and without warning slid his fingers past my folds and into my waiting pussy.

I gasped loudly as he hooked his fingers up. His thumb rubbing my sensitive clit. “Oh God, right there, Jensen. Fuck!”

He stopped and I whined. “Jens, why did you stop?” He leaned up and pulled my pants and panties down in one pull, “Had to get better access.” He chuckled.

Jensen continued and pushed me closer to my release. I felt heat and arousal fill my body. It had been so long since we touched each other I wanted it to last. My body was responding to Jensen.

The familiar coil tightened in my stomach. “Jens, I’m close.” He leaned forward, lips ghosting my ear, “I know baby. Let go for me. Cum on my fingers. Let me feel you.”

The coil snapped and I was cumming hard. My back arched off the bed and I soaked Jensen’s hand. My legs trembled as my body convulsed through my orgasm.

By the time I was done I was panting and could feel my arousal running down my ass. Jensen stood up and I saw his rock hard cock through his sweatpants.

I licked my lips and pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth. My breath hitched as he removed his clothes. He smirked, “See something you like, sweetheart?”

I nodded and smiled, “Yes, I do.” Jensen climbed back on the bed and used his legs to push my legs apart.

I laid looking up at him and saw the love in his eyes. My heart fluttered in my chest.

Jensen pumped his length a few times and looked down at me. I nodded and Jensen’s pink head slid past my lips and slowly sunk inside me.

I gasped and he moaned as he pushed in. Jensen stilled himself as he bottomed out.

“Fuck! I forgot how tight you were. Damn baby, even after three babies you fit perfectly around me.” He kissed my lips as he started to move his hips.

Jensen moved his hips slowly, pulling his length in and out of me slowly. His hands and lips trailing over my body. Our moans and pants filled the air.

I placed my hands on his biceps as his hips snapped into mine.

“Baby, I want you on top. I want to see your beautiful body.”

Jensen pulled out and laid on his back, I climbed on top of him and used one hand to steady myself while I used the other to guide him in me.

I sank down on his hard cock with a whimper and pulled a deep moan from his lips.

His hands gripped my hips as I rocked back and forth. Jensen snapped his hips up and pushed his cock deeper inside me. I grabbed the headboard and I continued rocking my hips faster.

“Mmm, yes baby. Just like that. God, you feel so good. Fucking me so good.” I moved faster as I felt my second release building.

Jensen’s hips moved faster moving up as I moved down. Our bodies were working together, chasing our release.

Jensen grabbed my body and flipped me on my back, his hips slamming into me faster. My legs resting on his shoulders as my hands found his chest. I was close again. My fingers slipped between us and I started rubbing my clit, chasing my second release.

My release hit hard and I moaned his name like a prayer. My walls clenched around his length and pulled his orgasm out too. He came with a grunt and his release coated my walls. Filling me with his seed.

He leaned down and kissed my lips as he softened inside me. “I love you, Jensen.” “I love you too, Y/N. This was perfect.” I smiled and nodded.

Jensen pulled out and kissed my lips. He got up, went to the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth and came back to the bed to clean us both up.

Tossing the washcloth to the side he crawled back in bed with me. Offering me his arm, I curled up to his side and laid my head on his chest.

My fingers drawing circles on his chest. “Jensen, thank you for tonight. It’s been too long and it was amazing.” He tilted my head up and placed a soft kiss on my lips, “Yeah it was. Thank you for tonight. I didn’t hurt you did I?” “No, baby. You were perfect.”

The two of us drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. Finally reconnecting and falling more in love.

*Time Jump 3 months*

The twins were 6 months old and my birthday was in a few days. Sarah had planned a spa day for us and I was excited. Jensen was staying with the kids, and Steve was coming over too.

Jensen and Steve were cooking dinner and my instruction from Jensen was to relax.

Sarah came and got me and we headed to the spa. We got facials, full body wraps, manicures and pedicures. By the time we got back to the house it was close to dinner time.

Walking in the house it smelled amazing. Jensen was standing at the stove when I walked into the kitchen.

“Hey sweetheart, how was the spa?” I walked up to him and kissed him, “It was amazing, thank you. This smells amazing by the way.” “It’ll be ready soon. You go sit and relax. The twins are napping and Lily is playing with Steve.

I nodded and walked into the living room where I found Sarah and Steve whispering. “What are you two talking about?” “Uh, nothing.” Sarah giggled. “Okay, whatever. Well just don’t have sex where the kids can see it.” Sarah turned red.

A few minutes later Jensen was telling us dinner was ready. We all sat down at the table and ate. Jensen brought out a small birthday cake, candles and all.

They sang Happy Birthday and Jensen told me to make a wish. I smiled, “But I have everything I could ever want right here.” I kissed him and then blew out the candles.

We enjoyed some cake and ice cream. Later after Sarah and Steve left and the kids were in bed, Jensen and I went to sit on the back porch.

We sat on the swing under a blanket and listened to the crickets and looked up at the stars.

“So, are you sure there’s nothing you would wish for?” Jensen asked with a smile. “Jensen, I have you, our three babies and this beautiful life. I have everything I could ever need.”

He smiled and nodded. “I have everything I could ever need too, well almost everything.” I looked at him confused, “What else could you need?”

Jensen stood and dropped to his knee, “I’ve loved you since the minute I saw you at that convention. You and Lily came into my life when I least expected it. You’ve given me so much, a home filled with love, three beautiful children, and a companion for life. It would be my absolute honor if you would agree to become my wife. I love you, Y/N, and I can’t think of anything else I want more than that. Will you marry me?”

I gasped softly as he opened the ring box. I threw my arms around him and kissed him, “Yes! Yes I’ll marry you!” He kissed me and slipped the ring on my finger, “Perfect fit.” I looked at it and nodded.

About a month after the engagement Lily started to retreat into herself again. I began to get worried about her. I wasn’t sure if it was because the twins were getting older and required more attention or if it was the engagement.

I talked to Jensen to see if he could help with her, he went to her room to talk to her. When he came back I saw tears in his eyes.

“Jens, is she okay?” He shook his head no. “She thinks she’s not family because she doesn’t have the same last name.”

I sighed, “Oh no. Why didn’t I see it? I’m going to be an Ackles, and the babies are. She’ll be the only one who isn’t.”

Jensen took my hand in his, “Hey, this isn’t on you. It’s natural for kids to feel this way. I did find this in her room, that’s how I knew what was bothering her.”

He handed me a picture she had drawn, it was all of us and she wrote “Ackles” on the top. “Jens, is she asking what I think she is?” “I think so. So what do you say? How would you feel if I adopted her, made it official?”

“You’d adopt her?” “Of course I would. I love her like my own. I’d love nothing more than to adopt her. She’s already my daughter, let’s make it official.”

I smiled and nodded, “Let’s go tell her.”

We walked into Lily’s room. She was playing on the floor and Jensen picked her up and sat her between us on the bed.

“Lily honey, we wanted to talk to you.” She looked at me and then back at Jensen. “We were talking and wanted to ask you how you would feel if daddy adopted you. You would be an Ackles for real. What do you think?”

She looked up at Jensen and then back at me and squealed.

She leaped in Jensen’s lap and threw her arms around his neck, “Daddy, my daddy.” He chuckled, “Yes, Lily girl. I’m your daddy forever.” He looked over at me, “I think that’s a yes.” I nodded, “I think so too.”

Lily climbed out of Jensen’s lap and ran to her closet. She pulled out her suitcase and Jensen and I looked at each other confused. Lily opened it and dumped the bag out. We saw some clothes, her stuffies and pictures of her with the twins and the family picture we had taken.

“Lily honey, what’s all this?” Jensen bent down to help her pick up the stuff. “Lily, no go now.” I was confused then it hit me, She wanted to leave. I sat on the floor beside her and pulled her in my lap, “Lily baby, you will always be our baby girl. It doesn’t matter what your last name is or how many babies I have. You will always be my first baby and we will always love you so much.”

She put her arms around my neck and held me tight. “Love you mama.” “I love you too, Lily girl. So much.” Jensen pulled both of us in his arms, “And I love my girls so much.”

Sitting on the floor with Jensen and Lily I reflected on the past few months of my life. From taking a chance and going to a convention with Lily, meeting the love of my life and having his children, to being engaged to him and he accepting my sweet girl, I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be, and I couldn’t ask for more.

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