#heavily inspired by something my friend drew. smiles

[jennicatzies]

Shush shush

[roastedoatmilk]

Who Kissed Nanami?

Kento Nanami x GN! Reader

Summary: The first year trio see that someone left lipstick on Nanami’s collar so they decide to play detective and figure out who it was

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: literally so much fluff, the first years follow nanami, heavily implied itafushi, some sprinkles of nobamaki, nanami and reader being disgustingly in love with each other

Little Things Masterlist

This was also posted on ao3

A/N This was heavily inspired by a selfship commission i have from my lovely friend cassecreeoute let me know if y’all would like to see it :D

Something was different about Nanami, that much Yuji could tell. He wasn’t quite sure what it was but the stoic man seems to have a bit more pep in his step as of late. While out on missions Nanami seemed more adamant than usual to leave at exactly 6pm, making quick work of whatever it is that’s keeping him. On multiple occasions the pink haired boy has caught his mentor smiling at his phone; two things that the man doesn’t often do. On this day in particular the elder man came into work with a faint red mark peeking up from almost right under where the collar of his shirt meets his neck causing alarm bells to go off in the boy’s head. Yuji decides that his best course of action is to go to Fushiguro and Kugisaki with his findings. He manages to catch Fushiguro while he’s leaving his dorm only offering a small “Need to talk to you.” before grabbing the spiky haired boy by the hand and dragging him down the hallway.

They managed to find Kugisaki sitting beside Maki in the courtyard, the two girls leaning over a phone discussing something in hushed voices. As the boys drew closer they were able to catch a bit of their conversation. 

“I’m telling you Maki he’s obviously hiding something.” Nobara whispers to her elder classmate before continuing.”Nanami doesn’t seem like the type to share stuff like that anyways.” 

Maki nods along before looking up and seeing the two boys approaching them, still holding hands with each other. A smirk grows on the green haired girl’s face seeing this before she stands up and says her goodbyes to the trio. The boys make their way over to their counterpart sitting down next to her. Nobara looks the two boys up and down in annoyance.

“What do the two of you want?” The ginger girl huffs, “I was having a conversation you know.”

Yuji flushes in embarrassment, lowering his head before responding in a hushed voice “I think Nanamin has someone special in his life, I’ve noticed some stuff about him lately.” 

Hearing this Nobara visibly perks up giving the cursed boy her full attention, grabbing him by the shoulders she shakes him while saying “Why didn’t you start with that, tell me everything you know right now!” 

“Kugisaki, if you expect him to answer you need to stop shaking him.” Megumi says, speaking for the first time since Yuji dragged him to the courtyard. 

The elder girl stopped shaking the boy, giving him a break so that he can say his findings. Taking a deep breath Yuji then tells the two everything that he has noticed, even showing them the photo he sneakily took of the mark on Nanami’s neck. Nobara snatched the phone out of his hands to examine the photo further, zooming in as close as possible on the photo.

“I definitely recognize that shade of lipstick, a bit too red for my taste personally.” The girl speaks before handing the phone back to its owner.

Yuji pockets his phone, collecting his thoughts for a moment before declaring “I think we need to investigate where Nanami is going after work, he told me he has somewhere to be tonight.” 

A bewildered look crosses Megumi’s face as he listens to the boy next to him, not really wanting to spend his night following the blond stoic man around. However Nobara seems equally as determined as the pink haired boy to figure out what Nanami is hiding. The two of them lean into each other and whisper ideas of where the man could be heading to. 

Later that night at exactly 6pm Nanami stands from his desk, paperwork already completed, and starts to head out for the night. The first years watch as the door to his office opens and he walks out, heading straight for the entryway of the school. The three students spring into action, following behind the man at a reasonable distance. 

They watch as the man pulls out his phone and calls someone the second he walks through the school’s barrier. Yuji and Nobara gasp as they see the man smile as he says he’ll meet whoever is on the other end of the line at a restaurant a few blocks away, their jaws drop even more as they hear the man say that he loves the person and that he’ll see them soon. Nobara grabs the two younger boys and forces them into a group huddle. 

“He’s definitely seeing someone, we need to follow him to the restaurant and find out who it is.” The girl whispers conspiratorially. Yuji firmly nods agreeing with her while Megumi just sighs before nodding as well. 

The three continue following behind the taller man, making sure to keep their distance. When he arrives at the restaurant he visibly perks up when he sees a person sitting at one of the tables by the window. Making his way inside the trio watch as he walks over to the person, coming up behind them and placing his hands over their eyes causing the person to laugh as they try and guess who it is covering their eyes. Nobara and Yuji’s eyes widen as they watch the person remove his hands from their eyes then stand up and turn around to face Nanami, placing a kiss on his lips leaving behind a mark in the same shade as the one on his neck. Nobara lets out a squeal so loud that it causes the two lovers’ heads to snap in her direction. The first years freeze in place knowing that they are now caught spying on the older man. 

Nanami lets out a deep sigh, pinching his fingers between his eyes and shaking his head. His partner however just laughs at the shocked faces of the kids, leaning into Nanami’s shoulder for support. The older man's shoulders now bouncing as he also chuckles at the kids. The three stand there in complete shock watching the two adults laugh at their expense. 

“W-we are so sorry for following you Nanamin, we just had noticed some stuff about you lately and wanted to find out what it meant.” Yuji stutters, his face completely red at this point. 

“Yeah!” Nobara chimed in, “Besides it was Itadori’s idea in the first place I was just following along.” This caused the pink haired boy to bow his head in shame, nodding along to the words of the older girl. Megumi stands with the two before waving shyly at you, his face a vibrant shade of pink. 

You laugh even harder at the three students before making your way over to them standing in front of the trio. Nanami follows behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s very nice to meet you two and it’s nice to see you again Megumi.” You say to the kids, your voice gentle as if talking to a baby deer.  A bright look in your eyes as you speak to the kids. 

Yuji’s head shoots up towards Megumi at hearing that the dark haired boy had met you before, Megumi refusing to look at his friends mutters a “It’s nice to see you again too.” 

Yuji and Nobara round on him after he speaks, the elder girl staring daggers into the green eyed boy. 

“Why didn't you tell us that you knew about Nanami’s partner huh??” Nobara squawks clinging to his arm.

“Do you not trust us, is that it Fushiguro?” Yuji asks with fake tears in his eyes, playing into Nobara’s act.

Megumi frees himself from Nobara before he tentatively reaches out to hook his pinky around the pink haired boy’s own. Megumi takes a few moments before speaking to his friends in a soft tone, “It just wasn’t my place to reveal that sort of information, I figured they were keeping it a secret for a reason.” 

The other two nod in understanding, giving up the act they had been putting on finding his reason acceptable. Yuji locks his pinky around Megumi’s in response. The two boys shyly looked at each other before the clearing of a throat caused their heads to snap up. Nanami and you are still standing there watching the trio, a small smile gracing both of your faces. 

“Have any of you eaten yet?” The tall blond man asks the trio, his voice soft. The three shake their heads in response, and on queue Yuji’s stomach starts to growl. Causing everyone to let out a laugh. 

“Come on kiddos, let's get you guys some food before you have to go back to school.” You say, ushering the kids into the restaurant. 

The three sitting in the booth across from where Nanami and yourself sit. You spend the next few hours getting to know the kids as you all eat. Answering any of the questions that the trio had. After all of the food was eaten and the kids ran out of questions, Nanami paid the bill before telling the kids that he’ll walk them back to the school. The three groan not yet wanting to go back but follow the elder man anyways. Before they leave Nanami gives you a peck on the lips, a smile gracing his face as he looks at you. 

“I’ll be home as soon as I make sure that they’re all back in their dorms.” The freckled man murmurs, placing yet another peck on your lips. You laugh at the man before nodding and turning to the kids. 

“It was lovely meeting you both Itadori and Kugisaki, and it was great seeing you again Fushiguro.” you tell the trio. Wrapping the three of them into a quick hug. 

“It was nice meeting you too.” Yuji and Nobara blurt at the same time causing you to smile even wider at them. 

“It was good to see you again.” Megumi mutters his face still pink from embarrassment.

You let the three go and Nanami ushers them towards the exit, the three dragging their feet behind him. Laughing at the kids as you watch them go, you hope that you’ll be able to have dinner with the trio again soon.

A/N here’s part two i had tons of fun writing this i hope y’all enjoy it as always lmk what y’all think in the comments 🫶🏻

[eddiesghxst]

hellooo! the idea of eddie absolutely hating carnivals has been tossing around in my head for so long so i wrote this :)

this was heavily inspired by Hearts Aglow x Weyes Blood and is definitely not proof read

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x henderson step-sibling!reader

summary: you and Eddie like love each other and Eddie hates carnivals.

contains: gn!reader, secret relationship trope, eddie being down bad, carnival shenanigans, mentions of oral, lots of fluff, and eddie in his lover era <3

word count: 1.6k

-masterlist-

Eddie is pretty. He’s so pretty with pink and blue and yellow hues dancing across his face, carnival lights twinkling in his brown eyes. He’s got sprinkles of glitter in his hair that he will surely be bitching about later on, and his lips are tainted red from a cherry-flavored snow cone.

You want nothing more than to smear your lips across his and taste them for yourself, but you’re stuck admiring from afar, poking your straw at the watered-down strawberry slushie in your cup.

Eddie believes that carnivals are nothing but money-sucking machines. The games are rigged, the rides are without a doubt hazardous, the food is overpriced and shitty, and there are hundreds of sticky, obnoxious kids running around like they have no home training. Eddie hates carnivals with every bone in his body, but he’ll be damned if he misses out on any chance to be around you.

You and Eddie are…well you’re something. You haven’t quite established exactly what your relationship is with Eddie. You hang out a lot, and you go out to watch movies, and you hold hands, and you kiss, and you might’ve sucked him off in the back of his van a few times, but Eddie hasn’t asked you to be anything serious yet. It’s not exactly his fault, he would’ve asked you a long time ago, but you asked him to go slow and ‘let’s just be careful for now. I don’t want Dustin finding out just yet.’

So…you’re not quite dating but you’re not not dating either. You’re feeling it out. You want to be sure about your feelings with Eddie and you want him to be sure about his feelings with you; because once Dustin finds out there is no going back. And you’d hate to be the reason why your (step) brother loses such a dear friend.

Eddie agreed to go slow and he agreed to keep it between just the two of you for now, but jesus christ, he can’t stand not being able to touch you and hold you and openly admire you in the ways he wants to.

He misses you and you’re less than thirty feet away. 

There’s a small stuffed animal in Eddie's hands when he walks up and sits next to you on the bench. It’s a miniature pink dolphin, the best he could get with a lousy shot. 

You glance at him and smile, “Hi, stranger.” Eddie smiles back and passes the dolphin to you, you trade him for your slushie and snicker. “I thought you’d pick the shark.” 

Eddie shakes his head, and peers down at the drink in his hand as he swishes it around. “It’s not for me.” He takes a sip of your drink and you watch as he smacks his lips together, letting the taste of the sugary treat settle in. “This tastes like shit.”

You snort, bumping your knee against his, nearly breathless at the sight of Eddie’s smile. “Because it’s watered down, genius.” Despite his previous display of distaste, Eddie takes another sip of your drink and you smile as you watch. Your fingertips dig into the plush toy; you want so badly to run your fingers through his hair, push his bangs back and kiss the arch of his eyebrow.

You push your knee against his once more and he looks over at you. “Thank you for my gift.” It’s almost pathetic, how giddy you get when Eddie dotes on you. He once drew a sun on your hand and you could barely tear your gaze away from it for the rest of the day. It nearly ripped you apart when the ink rubbed off in the shower.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I would've gotten you one of those huge stuffed animals, but those games are shitty pieces of money laundering thieves.”

You laugh as Eddie kicks at a rock beside his foot, mumbling a few curses under his breath. Just as Eddie begins to add to his rant, a couple walks past you, an oversized bunny draped across one of their shoulders. You and Eddie watch as they stroll by, and you fail to hold back a laugh. “Are the games rigged or do you just have poor aim?” You tease, to which Eddie snickers and responds, “I’m sure you know enough about my aim.”

The back of your hand meets Eddie’s shoulder in a warning slap and he giggles like a teenage boy. 

You fall silent for a moment and Eddie melts into the feeling of your leg pressed against his. “Why don’t we go get something to eat? I know a place with better drinks than…whatever this is.” Eddie grimaces down at the drink and you roll your eyes. “We can’t just leave—” “Why not? Harrington and Buckley are here.” 

You glance at him, and you can’t bear to watch the way his shoulders sink with the reminder of your reality. “Right, forgot about that for a second.” He sighs. You press your lips together before taking in a breath, turning to him, “Yeah, but you also haven’t taken me on the Ferris Wheel yet.”

Eddie gazes at you for a moment before turning to look at the large spinning wheel. He turns back to you and lifts a brow, “You expect me to get on that thing?” And you’re rolling your eyes and ushering Eddie to stand up and follow you before your friends can notice your disappearance. He complains but follows anyway, “You know they built this shit overnight right? Does that sound remotely safe to you?” 

You let out a breathy laugh with a shake of your head, “Eddie, you smoke two packs a day and drink Jolt Cola like your life depends on it. That shit’ll kill you quicker than this ten-minute ride on a wobbly Ferris Wheel.” And well, Eddie can’t argue with you on that, so he sucks it up and follows you onto the ride.

Once you're on the ride, your body is pressed against Eddie’s as it begins, slowly and slowly inching you up to the top. You’re busy watching the scenery but Eddie, for the most part, is busy watching you. When you glance over at him, you become shy of his gaze and smile, pointing over his shoulder so he can turn to see the sunset. Eddie watches in silence for a moment before he speaks, “This might be the first time the sight of Hawkins doesn’t make me wanna gag…”

Eddie turns to you and winks, nudging you as he speaks “But I think that’s just because you’re here.”

You gaze at him for a minute before tilting your head, “Eddie Munson, are you flirting with me?”

Eddie hums, raising his shoulder to dramatically shy away from you as he twirls a piece of his hair with his free hand. “I’m not that obvious, am I?” His eyes shine with adoration and mischief.

You hum, tilting your head back and forth in faux thought, “Obvious? No. Cheesy? A million times yes.” “Come on that was good. You’ve gotta admit that was good.” Eddie scoffs when you shake your head no before replying, “It’ll just inflate that big head of yours.” And Eddie’s lightly pressing the entirety of his large hand against your face, playfully pushing you away as you giggle. 

You grasp his wrist to pull it away and Eddie thinks you’ll drop his hand, but he’s gladly mistaken when you lace your fingers with his. Your heart skips a beat at the familiar feeling of his rough, calloused fingertips pressed against the back of your hand. Whenever he’s spent long hours shredding his guitar, Eddie makes a show of holding his fingers up in front of you and wiggling them until you gently grasp his wrist and press careful kisses to each of his sore fingertips.

Eddie’s voice is gentle and steady when he speaks, “What happened to being careful?” Your eyes meet his and for a moment, you don’t even remember that you’re on a spinning wheel, you only know you’re here with Eddie. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.” You admit. 

His eyes are soft and silky pools of brown as they dart all over your face, searching for any sign of hesitation. “What about your brother? Our friends—” “Nothing matters when you’re 50 feet above Hawkins, Indiana.”

It’s your last trip around the Ferris Wheel before the ride ends, and Eddie refuses to wait in the line again and you’re looking at him like he’s a sky full of stars, so of course he kisses you. It’s slow and gentle and he wants to keep kissing you until his lungs shrivel up inside of him from lack of air. His hand cradles your jaw and he smoothes a thumb over your cheek when he pulls away.

The ride is almost over and you’re sad to have to return to your friends and be pulled away from Eddie. “Will you come over tonight?” You ask before the ride ends. Eddie had been waiting for you to ask, he’s been thinking about it all night. He tries not to sound too excited, but he’s got a shit-eating grin plastered on his face when you look at him, “Leave the window open?” “Bring some smoke and I'll think about letting you stay the night.” You tease, giggling when Eddie feigns offense.

As you step off the ride, you already want nothing more than the night to end, already missing the warmth of Eddie’s touch. But when you rejoin your friends and glance towards Eddie, he winks at you and you’re positive that you will sneak in at least two more secret rides before the end of the night.

[darkwing-katy]

The Spider and the Fly Part VI

Pairing: Eventual Leland x Reader (sorta? You’ll see what I mean)

Word Count: 6,725

Summary: All you want to do is get through your online courses and keep your best friend from making bad choices in men. But there’s this creepy therapist who is absolutely insisting on you making an appointment with him. Who the hell is this Leland Townsend, and why won’t he leave you alone?!

Part six of seven. Takes place sometime around/between/during seasons one and two.

The series is inspired heavily by my favorite poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829) by Mary Howitt. This poem is in the public domain.

Tagging: @primosflowergarden; @vi-er

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

—————————————————————————————————

Alas, alas! How very soon this silly little Fly,

Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by

With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,

Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue

You’ve skipped two appointments so far and ignored all phone calls from unrecognizable numbers. You’ve blocked Leland’s number as well. Now, all that’s left to do is wait.

You don’t have to wait too long after the second appointment for him to show up at your place again. He pounds on the door, demanding entry. You ignore him. He can’t see you—you’ve pulled all the curtains down, you’ve blocked the door with a few chairs, and you’ve locked all other potential entry points. 

However, you make it clear that you’re home by blasting your favorite Spotify playlist. It’s all part of the plan, and you have a thrill of excitement coursing through you as you hear him yell through the door. He’s furious with you and that’s only going to make your trap all the more effective, thanks to the information Kristen has shared with you.

A pissed off Leland is a Leland who makes impulsive decisions, decisions that fuck him over in the long run.

Which is why when you return home the next day after your shift, you are not surprised to see him sitting on the couch. He seems the picture of relaxation and calm as he casually sips on one of your margaritas and gives you a friendly wave, but there’s anger simmering through the air from him, and he’s giving you a tight smile as he pierces you with those stupid blue eyes. 

You dreamed of those eyes a few more times in the last two weeks, but you’re not thinking about that right now. You didn’t plan this entire scheme out to lose focus now.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he drawls.

“The fuck are you doing in my house, Leland?” you demand, playing the part of an aggravated person.

“The door was open,” he lies, “and I haven’t seen you in a while, so I thought I’d pop by to check in. Make sure you’re okay.”

You flash him a mocking smile. “Well, now you know that I’m okay, so you can leave.”

He makes no such motion. Instead, he crosses one leg over the other and leans back into the couch. You shut the door behind you and set the bag on the table, letting Leland out of your line of sight for just a moment. He hasn’t moved by the time you turn the corner, though. He’s just waiting there, sipping on his drink, watching you. He pulls the can away with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve missed two appointments.”

“So?” You plop down on the armchair. There’s no way in hell you’re sitting next to him. “I determined that I am no longer in use of your services.”

“That’s not for you to determine,” he replies easily. 

You give him a fake grin. “I’m the patient, so yes, I believe it is.”

“That’s not how this works.”

You tilt your head at him with a false pout. “And how exactly does this work, Leland? You threaten me and force me to come back so you can keep trying to convince me to hit people? Or maybe you want me to scare someone else so bad that they’re traumatized and wind up killing themselves?”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, but his face remains at ease. “Oh, (Y/N), you think you know everything, don’t you?” His tone is teasing, luring you deeper in. “You don’t know the truth of it.”

He wants you to ask him what the truth is, but he won’t give it to you. He’s using it as bait.

You shrug. “I’ve decided I don’t need to,” you explain as you draw your legs up onto the chair. 

There. The first glimpse of a frown. It’s gone as soon as it appears, but it’s given you hope that this will work. “You…don’t want to know why I approached you?”

You shake your head. “Nope,” you reply, popping the ‘p’. “You’re not gonna tell me anyways, so why bother?”

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. He’s thinking, the gears whirring in his head. “What if I told you right now?” he says at last.

You shrug again. “Meh. Don’t care.”

“You should.”

“Nope.”

“You really should,” he insists as he arches both eyebrows, and you laugh.

“Absolutely not. Whatever it is, it can’t be good, and I’ve got a life of my own.” You reach for the remote on the coffee table, but Leland uses his foot to kick it out of your grasp. “Hey!”

“This is important, (Y/N),” he says in a low voice, putting his leg down and leaning forward. “You don’t understand just how important you are to us.”

Who is ‘us’? you want to demand, but it’s more of the same bait. Kristen had warned you that this was exactly the type of thing Leland did—leads you deeper in by promising that mysterious others are involved. It shouldn’t matter to you anyways because whoever was involved with that guy were people you wanted to stay far, far away from.

“Sucks to be you, then,” you say as you hop up from the chair. You’re hungry and who knows how long it’ll take to get Leland gone. You’re not gonna wait around. 

There are footsteps behind you as you pull open the freezer and pull out one of your favorite microwaveable meals. You maintain the illusion of ignoring Leland as you open the box and take out the meal, though you’re acutely aware of every step he takes. You don’t have a weapon on hand; words will be your knives tonight. You shut the microwave door and set it to five minutes before turning around with a huff. “What do you want, Lee?”

Leland blinks at the nickname. “What did you just call me?” he asks, miffed. “Did you just call me ‘Lee’?”

You smirk. It’s time. “What? You don’t like it?” You cross your arms as you lean against the counter. “Would you rather I call you Jake?”

Leland grows very, very still. You watch him carefully, the microwave droning behind you. “Excuse me?” he asks, but there’s a sharp edge to his voice.

Got you, you think with glee. “That’s your name, isn’t it? Jake?”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking abou—,”

“Oh, don’t deny it. You know, I’ve been trying to figure out who the hell you are. You know everything about me, it seems, and I had nothing on you. But then I found out that you’re not Leland Townsend—you’re Jake Perry, and all of the things I’d been looking for started popping up.” His face twitches. You continue, relishing the turmoil you’re foisting upon him. “You’re from Des Moines, Iowa, you’ve been married twice and divorced twice, and now you’re pretending to be someone else so you can feel all big and powerful.” You snort. “You’re like every Scooby-Doo villain ever. Just a man behind a mask.”

Leland is blinking rapidly, and you can see the confusion mixing with frustration on his face. “That’s not me,” he protests. You laugh at him. His eyes narrow behind the glasses as he seems to understand that he’s not fooling you anymore. “Who told you that?”

You won’t give him an answer. The microwave beeps, so you turn back to it. 

“Who told you that, (Y/N)?! Who told you?”

You peel back the plastic and hiss as a hot burst of condensation scalds your finger. 

You hear him inhale sharply, then start to chuckle, and the sound of it makes the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. “You followed me, didn’t you? You followed me to the church and you met Kristen Bouchard. I bet you ran into David and he was more than happy to connect you two.” The chuckling grows in volume, and you’re having a harder time maintaining your nonchalant act. 

You pull open a drawer and retrieve a fork, which you use to stir your hot food. It needs a minute to cool off before you can eat it.

“Oh, (Y/N). Did you think you were being sneaky? You can’t trust anything that those priests say. They’re too obsessed with hiding their fondness for pretty little boys.”

You’re losing your appetite, but you spear a piece of food onto your fork and blow on it. You have to act normal. 

He wasn’t supposed to react like this. He was supposed to get mad at you. You need to act, fast, before he regains control of the room.

“You know, Jake, I’ve only known David and Kristen for all of a few hours, but I already trust them a thousand times more than I trust you,” you reply as you set the fork down. You face him. “Kristen told me everything. She told me about the bullying, about the sex problems, about how you’re trying to threaten her the same way you’re threatening me.” You plaster a sneer onto your face. “But threats aren’t so scary when you know the person making them is just a loser. What’d she say your old nickname was? Jake the Flake?”

Leland flinches, his lips curving into a snarl. “That’s not my name,” he growls.

“Jake the Flake. Man. Has a nice ring to it. Better than Leland the Loser.” Your sneer widens. “Gee, I wonder what would happen if I released all of that information on social media? Let all of your other patients know just how much of a loser you really are?”

There’s ice in those eyes. “You wouldn’t dare,” he breathes, his hands clenching and unclenching.

“Wouldn’t I?” you ask in a sweet voice. You take an ominous step towards him, pushing away your own discomfort and aiming it at him. “Jake, you’ve literally threatened me,” another step, “tormented me,” another, “broken into my home and you think I wouldn’t dare?” You’ve almost reached him. “After everything you know about me, do you really believe that?” You bring back every ounce of joy you’d felt when you’d taunted your exes and Betty’s exes, using the memories as fuel. You want that glee to shoot from your eyes, from your very pores, because that’s how you’re gonna convince him to leave you the fuck alone.

He meets your eyes with his own, but there’s a tiny, tiny bit of hesitation there. It’s hiding behind his anger, but you see it and you want to pluck it out, bring it to the forefront.

“Leave me alone, Jake,” you spit. “Tell your superiors or whoever that I’m not worth it. I don’t care what you say—call me a bug or bitch or whatever, but make them believe that I’m not what they want, I’m not who they’re looking for.” Any closer and you’d be touching him. You can see your own reflection in his glasses, his blue eyes locked on yours. “Just leave me alone.” You’re still clenching the fork, the cold metal digging into your palms so hard it’s hurting.

He licks his lips, a strangely alluring movement that brings you back to your crazy dreams. You banish them as fast as you can before they can flush your cheeks. “Is that really what you want?” he asks, and there’s something to his tone, some subtle shift that you can’t place. Disappointment?

Is he really giving up? Was that really all the leverage you needed? 

“Yes,” you say in a soft voice. 

He blinks, and whatever was going through his mind is now gone. His face splits in a grin wide enough to rival the Cheshire Cat. “What if I just kill you right here, right now?”

He means it, you realize, and coldness overwhelms your body. You’re frozen in place. You can’t flee, even if you wanted to. Those stupid eyes hold you there, at his mercy. You lick your own lips as you think. “Because then you’ll remember me as the one you couldn’t win over. The fly that tore your web to shreds, even if you got her in the end.” It’s the only thing you can think of—appealing to his pride. “Kill me, and you’ll remember me forever as your failure. Leave me alive, and you have the hope that someday, someday, I find you and decide to join you or whatever.”

He barks a laugh in your face. You take a step back, the spell broken. “You’re a clever one, (Y/N), I gotta give you credit for that!” He’s still laughing as he waggles a finger at you. “Well done! Really!” He claps. The sound makes you jump, which only makes him laugh even louder. “Oh, you know what? Maybe you’re right. You’ll get bored with your life eventually, and when you do…” He lifts his eyebrows in suggestion. “You’ll find me.”

“You keep thinking that, dude,” you reply, but you’re secretly relieved that it hasn’t escalated any further. Leland turns around and makes like he’s going for the door.

“You know, I was hoping you’d punch me or something. Show me that our sessions haven’t been a waste of time,” he calls. You follow him, tossing your fork to the table. He seems like he’s leaving, but you’re wary that he might try something at the last second. “I like it when you hit me.”

“Sorry to disappoint, you weirdo,” you mutter. He chortles. “Even if you do look kinda sexy when you’re bleeding.”

You stop in place, your hand rushing up to clamp over your mouth, but it’s too late. The words have escaped. What the FUCK was that, (Y/N)?!? you scream at yourself.

Leland has paused mid-reach for the doorknob. “What was that?” he asks innocently. He twists his head to peer at you. “I could’ve sworn you just said you think I look sexy when I’m bleeding.”

You shake your head, but your cheeks are heating up, betraying you. You have no fucking clue where the hell that had come from, but you can’t take it back. He heard you, and now he’s smirking like a devil.

Ohhhhh, shit, you think when he takes a step towards you, away from the door. “You’re supposed to be leaving,” you say.

Leland shakes his head, still smirking. “You can’t expect me to leave after you make a statement like that!” There’s a lightness to his gait, a disconcerting twinkle to his eye. “(Y/N), are you attracted to me?”

Images from your dreams bombard you—images of biting, bleeding, twisting and writhing, blue eyes leering at you. “Mmm-mm,” you say, not trusting your tongue. He walks towards you and you step back, suddenly intimidated by the entire situation. You were doing so well! He was almost gone, fucking dammit!

Your back bumps into the open doorway that leads to the kitchen, but then Leland takes another step forward, and you have to twist yourself so that you can keep eyes on him as you step backwards into the kitchen. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck—

Your butt bumps into the table, and you reach for it, your hands dancing along the smooth, rounded edges. Maybe you can get the table between you and him, and then you can call Kristen. 

He’s not moving fast. He’s taking his time, each footstep deliberate, that stupid grin growing as he realizes that you’re the one retreating now, not him. He’s toying with you, and you heart is pounding so fast that it’s hard to breathe. 

Stay calm. Stay calm, stay calm, fucking dammit, stay calm!

You slide along the circumference of the table, not once moving your eyes away from Leland. You don’t dare—the balance has shifted and who knows what he’s gonna do now?

The kitchen light glints off of his glasses as he takes yet another step closer. “Don’t tell me that you’re scared, now, (Y/N).” He’s dragging out your name in the same way he’s dragging out his footsteps. “What happened to all of that rage, all of that fearlessness from just a minute ago?”

“Oh, it’s still there,” you assure him, your words finally figuring out how to push past the fear that’s tightened your throat. You feel on the table for something, anything. Your fingers graze the strap of your bag, but that’s useless right now. “Don’t mistake fear for a—a tactical retreat.” There! Something cool and metal—your fork. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. Your fingers strain to reach for it without catching his attention.

Leland arches a dramatic eyebrow at you. “Oh, is that what this is supposed to be?” he asks sarcastically. 

The fork has shifted, juuuuuust enough for you to pull it closer to you. Your hand wraps around it, and just the sensation of the cool metal is reassurance enough. “Yeah,” you say, and you hate how breathy you sound. 

You need him closer if you’re gonna stab him. Much closer. What would Kristen do? You wonder, then scowl internally. No. What would I do? If this were one of Betty’s exes, what would I do? 

The answer comes to you, and you hate it. Hate it for the position it’ll force you into, hate it for the risks it exposes you to, hate it for how tempting it might be if you’re not careful enough. 

You lick your lips, slowly, like you’re both afraid and enjoying what’s happening right now. Your hand is clenching the fork, digging it into your palm. “You were supposed to be leaving.”

A smirk. “So you keep saying. You know what I think, though?”

You’re officially backed up against the wall. You have nowhere left to run. Leland is closer, but not quite where you want him yet. “Do tell,” you reply.

Leland stops, tilts his head at you. “I don’t think you want me to leave anymore.”

Your palm is slick with sweat now, and you’re genuinely not sure how you’re going to get out of this. 

You’re genuinely not sure if you want to get out of this. This is remarkably similar to some of the dreams you’ve had, the ones that have left you gasping for air and nearly feverishly warm upon wakening. Only it had been your bedroom wall, not the kitchen wall, and you hadn’t had been holding onto a fork that was slipping out of your hand. “Why wouldn’t I want you to leave?” you ask, raising your own eyebrows in a poor mirror of Leland. At least your voice has lost that breathiness. 

He hasn’t moved any closer, but his grin is reflecting out of his eyes, bright and sharp. “You know why.”

“Alright, so I think you’re cute. Aside from the, you know,” you wave your free hand haphazardly, “psychopathic behaviors and murder. And manipulation, and breaking and entering, and…”

Leland rolls his eyes. “This is getting nowhere,” he mutters, more to himself, and you brace yourself, certain that he’s about to lunge. 

But something’s wrong—right as he seems like he’s about to step forward, you start to lift the fork from behind your back, and it. Fucking. Slips.

The utensil clatters loudly, obnoxiously, to the floor, prompting a wince from you. Well, shit. You hadn’t realized that your hand was that sweaty, and now it’s cost you.

But at the same time, it’s saved you, because Leland, for some reason that you’re not about to question, finally looks away from you and down at the floor. It’s only for a second, but a second is all that you need. You shove him as hard as you can, causing him to stumble enough that you can try to step around him, but as you push, you let loose a gasp—your hand hurts? A lot, actually, now that you’re thinking about it. It stings, and you wonder why as your eyes go to Leland’s shirt, which has a bright red smear on it.

Is he bleeding?

You should’ve ran away from him when you had the chance, not focused on your pain, because now he’s slammed his hands on either side of the wall next to you. One hand darts down to wrap around your wrist and yank it upwards.

In the light, you see that it’s bleeding. There’s a neat little slice going across your palm in a horizontal line. You stare at it. How the hell had you missed that? It must’ve been the fork—you’d been holding onto it so tightly that you hadn’t even noticed it digging into your skin, ripping into you.

“Ow,” Leland mouths, and then—and then he twists your hand around so that the cut is turned towards him, and the next thing you know, he’s fucking licking it, dragging his tongue all the way across your palm.

And oh, God, does it feel good. You have to press your lips together, hard, to stifle the moan that wants to come out. 

This was not how this evening was supposed to go.

“Let go!” you hiss at him, snatching your hand out of his grasp. 

His eyes are still sharp, but they’re darker now, almost like a stormy ocean. It’s fascinating. “Why?” he asks, a curl to his lips. You try to ignore that you can see some of your blood smudged across his chin, try to ignore that something deep inside of you is demanding that you dare him to do that again, to lift your hand to his mouth and suck.

Do it, he’ll probably be happy to oblige, a dark voice says in your head. I bet he’d bite you if you asked him.

You are never reading any smutty vampire novels ever again.

“You need to go,” you say, and you’re proud of how firm your voice is. It’s not betraying any of your inner thoughts, which are racing and roaring and—

“I thought you liked this kinda thing,” he says, and it comes out a mixture of whiney and smug. 

And because you’re pissed at him—pissed at yourself—you swing at him, fingers curved so that your nails can actually do some damage. This time, you actually manage to hit him, drawing three long, bloody scratches across his cheek. You can’t tell how much of the blood is yours or his, though, because without meaning to, you’ve used your hurt hand, and that was a mistake because now it really fucking hurts, enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Leland flinches at the hit, lifts a hand to his cheek. He dips his fingers in the blood, brings it to his lips, sucks it off with a smirk and an amused lift of his eyebrows. “That’s more like it!”

You kick at his shin, your foot somehow smacking into the stupid fork in the process, sending it spinning across the floor. As Leland tries to sidestep you, you manage to duck around him and lunge to the floor, retrieving the bloodied utensil and jabbing it in his direction.

“A fork? Really? That’s the best you can do?” Leland sighs. “I’m almost disappointed.”

“You need to go,” you reiterate, but he just grins at you. 

“Awww, you don’t mean that,” he taunts. “What happened to thinking I’m sexy?”

“Get. Out,” you repeat through gritted teeth. 

Leland’s eyes dart to the fork. “You gonna stab me with that, (Y/N)? Make me bleed?” He shrugs. “I guess it’s only fair.”

It’s either that or hate sex, the dark voice purrs. And hate sex would be waaaaaay more fun, I bet. Who cares if he struggled getting it up with his ex-wife? He doesn’t seem to be having a problem with it now.

You can’t stop your eyes from flicking to the crotch of his pants, which only confirms what the dark voice is saying. What exactly is it about this man that calls to you so much? It’s gotta be the forbidden aspect of it that makes him so alluring—you know he’s an atrocious guy, that he’s a literal personification of evil (Kristen has told you a lot about his deeds), but…that’s not stopping you from being drawn in. Even after everything he’s said to you, after him telling you the truth about Samantha, after his outright threats towards Betty, you’re captivated. He’s gotten under your skin and fucking him might be the only way you can get him out.

There’s space between the two of you now, but it doesn’t feel that way. His eyes are roving over your body the same way yours are roving over his, and it’s clear that you’re both enjoying it, even though clothes are still on. This little stand-off is charged with sexual tension, and you’re the one with the knife (fork?) to cut it. 

You understand quite suddenly that he’s not going to do anything unless you initiate it. He may be twisted, he may be malignant, but he’s not going to sexually assault you. He’s leaving it up to you to decide. You have to make the choice here.

Do it, do it, dooooo iiiiiiiitttttt, the voice whispers in your ears.

Your hand fucking hurts.

Dooooooo iiiiiiiittttttt.

You surge forward, and the force of your movement sends Leland backwards into a chair that is, fortunately for him, turned just enough that he can fall onto it. You’re hyper-aware of the fork in your hand—the blood on it has gotten sticky already and the texture of it is horribly gross—apparently you’re only a fan of fresh blood, which is a weird distinction to make but it doesn’t really matter anymore because you’re pressing your lips against Leland’s, your free hand reaching up to the back of his head to pull him closer. He kisses you back with rough vigor, and as your body straddles him, you can feel just how enthusiastic he is. 

Am I really doing this? you have time to ask yourself before you shove your tongue into his mouth. He responds just as forcefully, his hands snaking around your waist. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fork at all; if anything, it’s just making it more fun for him. 

Your cheeks are burning in embarrassment, but the rest of you is filled with pleasant heat. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you notice that his hair is soft. There’s a strange sort of desperation urging you further, making you grind against him, and though you’d expect otherwise, he seem’s pretty content to let you take the lead on this. There’s probably something more going on here, some strange metaphor that you’re too distracted to work out. Right now, you want nothing more than to peel everything off—your clothes, his clothes, everything, and as you reach to tug off his suit jacket, you hear a ringing.

The noise is sudden and jarring, and you jerk back away from Leland, who makes a groan of protest. Your eyes scan the kitchen for the source of the sound and land on your phone, the screen lit up in your bag pocket. “Ignore it,” Leland suggests, and you wait for the screen to darken before you turn back to him. “Well, don’t stop now!”

What the hell are you doing, (Y/N)? you scream at yourself, but his words are a yank on this strange chain between the two of you, and you lean forward to kiss him again, your hand resuming its quest to pull of his jacket as he tugs you closer, closer, until there’s no space between you except that of your clothes, and his hands are running up and down your back, cupping your ass, eagerly exploring—

Your phone goes off again, snapping you out of it. This time, Leland growls at you when you pull away. “Ignore it,” he commands, but no one ever calls you this time of night unless it’s Betty with an emergency.

The thought of Betty calling you with a crisis and you ignoring her because you’re fucking your psychotic therapist brings heat to your face, and you leap off of Leland in your haste to get as far away as possible from him so you don’t jump him again. His hands try to hold you in place, but you’re fast enough to shake them off before he can pull you back to his face. “Fuck,” you hear him hiss, but it’s too late. You’ve broken free and have snatched up your phone.

It’s not Betty calling; it’s Kristen. “Hello?” you say as you answer it, keeping Leland in your peripheral the whole time. You wouldn’t put it past him to try and catch you unawares.

“(Y/N)! How are you?” Kristen asks. She sounds cheerful.

“Oh, uhm. Fine,” you reply. Your voice sounds a bit shaken from adrenaline, and you hope she doesn’t notice it.

“Are you sure? You sound a little off.”

So much for that, then. “I’m fine,” you insist, your eyes darting to Leland, who’s watching with an aggravated expression on his face. He purses his lips as you make eye contact. There’s still blood, already browning, smeared across his cheeks. You lick your lips and wonder what it would taste like. “Uhm, uh, is there a reason you’re calling so late?”

“It’s not that late, is it?”

You look to the stovetop clock. It’s not even 8 yet. You frown. The summer sun probably hasn’t even set at this point. Your sense of time must be really screwed up from everything going on. “Riiiight. Sorry. Pulled a few all-nighters in a row and now my sense of time is all wibbly-wobbly,” you lie. It’s dumb but it’s the only thing you can think of right now.

Well, that and how badly you want to toss the phone away so you can resume…whatever the hell that was. The heat of it pulses through you, calling you back to Leland. You take a step towards him without meaning to, and he gives you a smug look. He knows what you’re thinking. You don’t know how, but he does, the bastard. In an attempt to stave off whatever weird spell you feel like you’re under, you clench your fork, and the sharp pain it sends through your arm snaps you out of it.

Kristen chuckles on the other end, buying your lie. “I was calling because I was doing some digging. Your friend—Samantha, right?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Leland’s eyes track you as you start to pace around the kitchen, never once turning your back to him. He hasn’t really moved from the chair, and that smug look is still plastered onto his face. Is he hopeful that you’ll continue where you left off the moment you hang up?

“You said that Leland told you she committed suicide.”

Your eyes are glued to him. “Yep, that’s what I was told.”

He sits up, almost like he knows you’re talking about him. One eyebrow raises in an unspoken question. You shake your head at him and point the fork in his direction. He raises his hands in supplication.

“I reached out to some friends in Florida, and they directed me to a center in Tallahassee where your friend used to stay. Turns out, she was released a month ago and moved to Jacksonville. She still has virtual check-ups every week, but she’s not dead, (Y/N). Leland lied to you.”

He straightens even more as you narrow your eyes at him. If they were daggers, he’d be long since dead. “He did,” you repeat numbly. It’s not a question, though Kristen seems to interpret it as one.

“Yes, he did. He lied about her to get under your skin, to get you to open up to him even more. This is what he does, (Y/N).” Kristen pauses. “Have you seen him since the last time we spoke?”

You shake your head as you lie again. “No.”

“Good. You’ll call if you see him?”

“Yes,” you lie for the third time. Your mind is working fast, whirring as you figure out what to do with this new piece of information.

There must be something in your tone, because Kristen doesn’t hang up right away. You hear her breathing on the other end. “(Y/N), are you sure you’re okay?” she asks in a hushed voice. “I know this is a lot, but I want you to know that I’m here to help if you need it. Leland is just a man. A twisted, terrible, manipulative man.”

Yeah, and I was just about to rip his clothes off a few minutes ago, you think morosely. So what does that make me?

“He wants to upset you for a reason. It’s what he does.”

“I’m fine,” you tell her. “Can—can I call you back later? I need…I need to process this.”

You hear a rustling movement on her end. She’s probably nodding. “Yeah,” she says. “Call me anytime.”

“Thanks, Kristen,” you say, and at the mention of her name, Leland rises from the chair at last. His gaze has sharpened, and though he seems to be acting aloof, uncaring, you can tell from the way his shoulders tense that he’s wary of whatever it is that she’s told you.

As he should be, you think with venom.

You hang up and slide the phone into your back pocket. The fork is still in your hand, and you tighten your grip on the handle, ignoring the pain. You can deal with that later. This is much more important. 

“What was that about?” Leland asks, taking a step towards you.

You don’t move. You will hold your ground. He will not intimidate you, not anymore. 

“What did she tell you, (Y/N)?” he demands with another step.

You glare at him, willing ice into your veins. Ice strong enough to withstand him, strong enough to pierce him, to freeze him in place. “She told me something veeeeery interesting, Lee,” you drawl. He pauses at the nickname. He doesn’t seem afraid of you, but he is hesitant. You’ll take it. “Kristen told me that she reached out to some friends of hers. Friends who told her that Samantha—you know, the old friend that killed herself—is alive and well in Jacksonville. How crazy is that?” You giggle, a high-pitched deranged sound. “So either you lied to me or the therapists there are meeting with a ghost online every week.” 

Leland stares at you, tilts his head at you. “Alright, so I lied,” he admits with a tense smile. “But you were pleased to hear that she was dead, even if it wasn’t true.”

He’s not entirely wrong. You’re not as relieved that she’s still alive as you probably ought to be, but you are holding onto the detail that Leland used this lie to manipulate you into violence, into admitting your remorselessness at the things you’ve done. He’s encouraged you to continue acting as you have in the past, if not more so. And then you understand: he wanted you to think you scared someone into suicide because he wants you to do it again. He wants to trick you, seduce you, persuade you to do that to someone else—or many someones.

“Get out of my house,” you say in a surprisingly calm voice.

“Let’s talk about this,” he says as he takes a large step forward, holding his arms out like he’s reaching for you. “Let’s talk about how you feel.”

“Get. Out.” Your voice has increased in volume but decreased in pitch.

“You don’t feel relieved, do you? You’re disappointed. You wanted to scare someone so bad that they killed themselves. You wanted that nice little tick on your resume.” He makes a ‘ticking’ sound and motion as he says that.

He’s right.

“Get out!”

He stops moving, but that malicious light is back in his eyes. “Do you really think I’m afraid of you?” he asks with a sneer. “My friends are more powerful than you could even know.”

You channel all of your rage, all of your love of scaring people. Everything that you can use to project yourself in a way that will scare him. “Leland,” you say, taking a step towards him. His eyes dart to the fork and back to your face. “Ohhh, Leland. Get out of my house right now or I will destroy you. I know what scares you now, remember?” You give him a dark grin. “I will find everything I can from your high school band days. If anyone has videos, I’ll find them. If anyone has photos, I will find them. I’ll post them everywhere I can. I’ll interview your classmates, your principal, your teachers. I’ll talk to your ex-wives. I’ll share who you really are with the whole fucking world, Jake Perry, and no one will come to you ever again for help because they’ll see that you, asshole, are a joke.” 

He’s stilled, your words sinking into him. There’s a snarl forming on his lips.

You will not let yourself think about the fact that you were kissing those lips less than five minutes ago. Not think about how a part of you is raring to jump back into action.

“Leave me alone. Leave Betty alone. Don’t talk to anyone who knows us, and I will leave you alone. But the minute you come near us again, I’ll tear you apart. One piece at a time.”

He stands there, glowering. You sense that he would kill you on the spot if he could, but you’re the one who’s armed, and Kristen would know what really happened to you no matter what he did to your body. 

And he would know that he killed you because he was afraid of you. That’s the real reason he won’t do it.

You may not have beaten him, but you have earned a stalemate.

“Fine,” he says through clenched teeth. “I’ll leave you and your…friends alone.” He turns his back to you. You follow him as he goes to the door. “But we’ll meet again, (Y/N). You’re too good at what you do.” He reaches for the doorknob and glances back at you. “And the next time we meet, you’ll find out what kind of person you really are.”

“I know who I am,” you hiss. The fork is still in your hands, ready to stab if he makes any sudden movements.

He snorts. “Yeah. You’re the kind of woman who loves to scare people and wants to hate-fuck your therapist.” He pulls open the door, though he’s still looking at you. “Let me know if you ever change your mind. I’d enjoy it as much as you would.” He winks.

“Stay out of my life,” you snarl. The second he’s out the door, you slam it shut behind him and lock it. Then you grab the chair and shove it under the knob. After that, you go back into the kitchen and stand there, looking at everything. 

Your hands are shaking. Hell, your whole body is shaking. Is it fear? Is it adrenaline? Is it something else?

The fork clatters to the floor right before your knees slam into it. You’re panting, and it isn’t until something wet splashes onto your hands that you realize you’re crying. The moment you realize that, you start to sob. You wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to calm yourself, but it doesn’t work. “Fuck,” you say though your tears. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckFUUUUUCK!”

You cry on the floor for a long, long time.

When you’re done crying, you sit on the floor for even longer.

And then you get up. You wash your face and your hand with warm water. You get yourself cold water to drink. You find some Neosporin and bandaids. You clean up the residual blood that’s scattered around the table. When that’s all done, you go to bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling.

You haven’t won, no. But you will never see Leland again. 

You’ve made sure of that.

And that is good enough.

Thinking only of her crested head—poor foolish thing! At last

Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast

He dragged her up his winding stair into his dismal den

Within his little parlor��but she ne’er came out again!

[ace-does-stuff]

blood on the dance floor

Summary: Mysterion is too late, and he really wishes he was bleeding out in place of his best friend.

Warnings: character death (it's not explicitly on screen, but, ya know), minor gore, blood, heavy angst, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: at last, a chance to write some gut wrenching angst with a bad title. I wrote this in one sitting and usually I'm unaffected by my own writing but I'm not gonna lie by the end of this one I was feeling a bit choked up. inspired heavily by this kysterion angst that @kennysdeadbody drew, which is like. go check out his art. it is so fucking good.

Normally the sound of a gun going off would leave Mysterion unfazed. He's been shot to death more times than he can count. He really wouldn't mind having a bullet through the stomach one more time, it's numb these days. Just a short little sting and then he's bleeding out, gastric acid spilling into his muscle tissue and heartbeat rapid.

But, he isn't on the receiving end of this bullet.

And he knows exactly whose yowl of pain is ringing in his ears atop the blast of a gunshot. His stomach turns and everything goes silent aside from the heartbeat echoing so loudly inside of his skull. The sound is bouncing around with his labored breathing and he drops everything. He drops the collar of the thug and he turns tail and runs as fast as he can.

His body aches but that's fine, he's felt worse. He's felt much, much worse than this mounting dread that's controlling him. It throws his body into auto-pilot and all he can do is beg and plead and just hope so fucking much that he's wrong. That the voice didn't belong to who he thinks it does. That those sirens are making their way to the wounded, not the enemy. That this splotchy trail of red isn't blood even though he knows it is.

The scent burns on his nose and the alternating blue and red whirling around him make him feel dizzy. It's just blurring together. The sound of wheels on pavement. Blaring sirens. The windows on walls. Buildings fade into each other as he runs across the chilled pavement.

The halt he comes to is screeching as he turns the final corner. His heart does a cliff jump into the pit of his stomach and he can feel tears welling up already. His legs are turning to jello and the hazy dizziness that flooded his mind is instantly replaced with a horribly pristine reality. His vision is far from 20/20, but he's never seen anything clearer as he steps ever closer to his best friend. His footsteps echo amidst the cacophony of sounds as he inches ever closer, the tangy scent of blood burning the back of his throat.

He chokes out a weak, "Kyle?" and the redhead opens his eyes. He's pressed against a wall just barely, hand clutching the bloody splotch across his abdomen. His knees are almost hitched, bent just enough the back of his legs aren't icy. He tries so hard to smile, to force one, just for his dearest friend no matter how much it hurts.

"Hi Ken," Kyle croaked out as he tried to push himself a little further up the wall. He winces and it's visceral.

Adrenaline kicks in one final time and it's enough of a nudge to force Mysterion down to his knees right at Kyles side. The tears falling are torrential as he tries to say something, anything, to comfort Kyle. All that comes out are shattered syllables and he's sure he looks stupid but Kyle's still smiling.

Gloved hands rush to the wound, gently nudging aside Kyle's hand. His own are shaking so much, both of them. Mahogany gloves press at the wound, they barely cover up how far the blood has seeped from the puncture. It's almost nauseating, and he knows just how much pain is coursing through Kyle. He knows exactly where it hurts the most, but he doesn't know how to fix it.

"Kenny," Kyle gets out quietly, drawing a hand up to Kenny's face. His hand is so cold, a terrifying contrast to the warmth of tears. They sting micro cuts at the edge of his fingernails but he barely notices. He just brushes aside a trail of tears and reaches higher to tangle his hand into blonde locks.

Kenny's hands press a little harder against the wound whether he likes it or not. He can feel his heart shattering into a million little pieces because this death is tangible.

He can't die, but Kyle?

Kyle can die.

"Ah, not so hard," Kyle manages, the moan on his voice is pain if nothing else but Kenny gives a hoarse laugh. He lifts his hands just a bit as he leans further into Kyle, not making contact but closing the gap a bit more. Cold fingertips press into his scalp as they card through his hair, he brings a hand to drop the hood.

"Kyle," It comes out a little bit more cracked then he wants it too, his breathing is stuttering. He can feel the blood seeping into his gloves, "I'm so sorry," He leans into the heel of Kyle's palm as he squeezes his eyes shut.

"It's okay," Kyle said softly, and he hates how much Kenny is shaking. The full body quakes tearing through him as he watches Kyle bleed to death. He brings his other hand to rest atop one of Kenny's hands and the blonde opens his eyes, bright indigo on swampy olive.

"No. No, Kyle it's not okay. I'm supposed to die, I do it all the time. This isn't okay," Words rushed out of him, he felt lightheaded. Every wisp of oxygen he took in instantly forced back out in a flush of apologies. He shook a little harder, "I'm so sorry. Kyle, Kyle this wasn't supposed ever fucking happen."

Kyle winces a bit and he's coughing, Kenny only cries harder as he watches ichor slide past his lips. He tugs off his gloves and raises an ungloved hand to Kyle's chin, he slides the pad of his finger up to swipe away the blood. Maybe he let's his finger rest on partially cracked lips for a second too long but he can't quite tell. He drops his hands back down, the air bit at exposed skin but the warmth of blood is both nauseating and a comfort. He finds the frayed edge of the bullet hole and presses his palm atop it, "Kenny, you can keep a secret, right?"

Kenny nods rapidly as Kyle drops his hand from his face, "Of course I can," He's not just saying it to comfort a dying man either. He will keep a secret, just for Kyle. He would keep a secret for Kyle even if he wasn't bleeding out- he would do anything for Kyle. He'd take a hail of hits and then some for Kyle.

Kyle clasps his hands around one of Kenny's. His pulse is rapidly dropping, while Kenny's is rapidly raising. He tries his hardest to muster the best smile he can. He squeezes the bloody and calloused hand before speaking, "I really would've liked to settle down with you, bro."

Kenny's heart skips several beats and he's rendered even further speechless. He barely has time to think over his answer before it claws out of his throat, "We still can, Kyle. We still can, we can have a stupid fucking wedding. We can go to the movies and eat good food and live together- we still can."

"I love you so fucking much, Kenny," Kyle said quietly. His grip on Kenny's hand loosens just a bit and another raises to keep them pressed together. Blood smears across clear skin and he's so cold and so fragile and so delicate.

"No. No, no, Kyle. Kyle don't leave me, please," Kenny's begging as he hunches in on himself. He can hear sneakers skid against pavement as Kyle's legs unhitch and go limp. Hands drop to wrap around Kyle's abdomen, pulling him closer gently. A softly rising and falling chest pressed flush against his own, his head is buried in Kyle's shoulder. Arms wrap around his chest weakly and Kenny wants to die with him, "I love you, I love you Kyle and I didn't say it sooner. Don't go, fuck, Kyle."

"I won't," Kyle barely managed to get out, hand creeping up the back of Kenny's neck to rest in his hair.

Kenny knows he's lying but he wants so hard to believe it even with the warmth spilling from Kyle's core.

[bookofbolden]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Common PARTIES: Charlie ( @zombiebabysitter ) & Eleanor SUMMARY: Eleanor runs into an emotionally charged Charlie and despite a rocky introduction a friendship is born. WARNINGS: Death mention

Eleanor had learned to allow herself at least an hour every other day to leave the apartment with her notebook and visit any nearby location where she could sit and jot down random ideas that came to her with the hopes of being able to add them to her novel somehow. She’d learned that forcing herself to come up with the more meticulous details of the novel made her frustrated with herself and the project as a whole, especially whenever she came up empty-handed; if she became frustrated or felt that she had to force herself to write then the passion behind what she was doing would be gone. Sometimes the words just didn’t flow the way they typically did which was why the fresh air and change of scenery did wonders on her slower days.

The Common was as good a place as any for Eleanor to both get out of her apartment and to draw some inspiration for settings. It was blatantly obvious that the fictional town in her book was heavily inspired by Wicked’s Rest so anytime she was able to just sit and observe was time well spent. She chose a spot to herself where she could be just far enough away from others that their emotions didn’t block her creativity but also close enough to be aware of what those emotions were. Although she craved the silence of being around those she couldn’t read, it still left her feeling lopsided and like she was missing a piece to a very important puzzle.

Positive emotions ran rampant within the vicinity and the empath smiled to herself as she opened up her notebook and jotted down some bits of dialogue that she thought would be a nice addition to the story. She had become completely focused on her writing when the various good moods around her were dampened by one incredibly heavy feeling. Frowning, Eleanor looked up and saw a face she didn’t recognize and realized that it was the person who had affected her so negatively. As he drew closer her head almost began to ache and she slammed her notebook closed.

“Are you okay?”

Charlie often found himself in the Common, writing down lyrics as they came to him. It had become a lot harder for him since he had to start writing his music, but he was doing his best. Today was a writing day, not a music day. So he sat on a spread-out blanket, legs criss-crossed over each other as he muttered different lyrics under his breath, trying to get something that sounded right. He was frustrated. Sometimes, lyrics came easy. But lately? They didn’t. It was hard to write, and it was harder to find inspiration for what to write about. How many songs could he write about losing his friends? How many times did he have to be miserable before he finally allowed himself to be happy?

It was easy to get caught up in his own head, the memories of past events coming into play. He should be happy with what he had, but… what about the things he didn’t? It was all too much to deal with, and he threw his notebook down and buried his face in his hands before getting up and starting to pace, coming close to a woman who quickly called him out on his piss-poor mood. “What?” Charlie blinked owlishly, pointing to his chest. “I… uh.” He thought he was better at hiding his emotions than this. It was easy to have an outer appearance of being fine when on the inside his mind was on fire.

He stared at the woman a little longer, unsure how she was so sure he wasn’t okay. “I’m just… dealing with some shit right now. It’s making it hard to write.” Charlie admitted, taking a few steps backward from her. “Sorry, I’ll… go back to my spot.” He muttered and gestured over his shoulder to the abandoned blanket and notebook. “Sorry,” he said again, walking back over to his blanket and sitting back down, suddenly unsure if he should go back to what he was doing or if he should call it quits for the day. Words just weren’t working.

Eleanor felt instant regret when the man explained himself but an intense wave of interest after hearing his words was stronger. “Wait!” She reached out her hand as though to stop him then watched as he went back to this blanket and sat down again looking as though he were a scolded child. “I am so sorry, I don't know where that came from. I promise that I’m not usually an… asshole.” She was an adult but still found it hard to curse sometimes. It was just another quirk about herself that she wished she could get over. “Things aren’t that great for me either, I should really be more considerate of what others are going through - I’m so sorry.”

She tilted her head as she continued to observe the stranger. “Excuse me, but did you say that you’re writing something? I’m also writing. I’m pretty deep into my novel and I have a deadline that seems far away but I know that if I don’t double down and get it done then I’ll miss it.” Eleanor stopped herself before she could continue on yapping and smiled at the man. “I’m stressed, I think. That’s why I reacted to you the way that I did, although that’s not an excuse whatsoever - could we please start over?” While it physically pained her to be near so much emotional pain she forced herself to her feet and made her way over to his blanket and held out her hand.

“I’m Eleanor, writer and curious cat. What’re you writing, if you don’t mind me asking?” She wanted to get to know more about him mostly because he interested her but also because she thought that if she could learn more she might be able to quiet the storm that so obviously brewed inside of him. She really needed to stop thinking that she could “fix” people but if those around her were sailing calm waters then so was she. Really, getting her new acquaintance to calm down was a win-win situation.

The woman called out to him, and Charlie found himself looking over at her, expression far more guarded than it was before. “Yeah? I’m usually not in a shitty mood, so I guess we’re even.” He replied with a soft shrug of his shoulder before turning his body so that he was facing her but stayed on his blanket instead of walking back over. He wasn’t that far from her, not really. “I think a lot of us around here have shit we’re not dealing with, it’s kinda par for the course.” He squinted over at her, the sun right behind where Eleanor sat. 

Then, she showed interest in his writing, talking excitedly about her own writing. Unable to help himself, Charlie gave a soft smile. Usually, it was him that was a constant stream of words, but this time it was someone else. It was kind of nice to be the quiet one for once. Well, for now, anyway. He felt his turn to yap coming on. “Oh, yeah I’m… yeah.” He said lamely, patting his discarded notebook with a somewhat tense smile. “Between you and I? I’m always stressed.” He gave her a playful wink before opening his notebook back to the page that he was last on. It was a song about Gareth. Sometimes writing out the pain made it easier to bear. 

Charlie watched as Eleanor got up and thrust out her hand toward him, introducing herself. “I’m Charlie, musician and expert yapper.” His eyes flashed with amusement, the tense smile turning into a full smile before hopping up from his blanket and shaking her hand. “I’ve got a bit of a serious music career on my hands,” he admitted. “I lost my bandmates in a bit of an attack,” he explained vaguely. “Turns out when tragedy strikes, your fanbase triples in size overnight.” He brushed the hair out of his eyes, a storm behind them. 

While he gave off the vibe of a happy-go-lucky dude, he was deeply troubled by the loss of his friends. He was trying to work on shoving it away, with the Finn of it all, who was able to sense his emotions. He frowned, realizing that he’d been a bit more outward with his emotions here in the park than he meant to. “Sorry for… the sad sack of a man of it all that I was displaying to you.” 

Eleanor tilted her head as she nodded slowly. “I hadn’t thought of it that way but yes, you’re right. I think a lot of my friendships have come about because of trauma bonding but I won’t be complaining about it anytime soon, at least I’ve made friends. That’s what concerned my parents most when I’d announced that I would be moving somewhere we didn’t know anyone.” She shrugged. “All of us have our days, I’ll forgive you for being an asshole if you forgive me for being one first.

“I can tell.” Eleanor answered too quickly then backtracked. “I meant, I could tell by how you were pacing and your shoulders. Really… tense?” It came out as more of a question and she mentally kicked herself for having once again put her foot in her mouth. “Writing helps me a lot too, it gets me out of my head and into someone else’s - for a couple of hours every day I get to leave behind whatever’s bothering me and go into a world of magic and monsters that won’t actually hurt me, you know?” She tried to stop talking but found that she couldn’t, she enjoyed his company more now that the walls had been let down. “Is that corny to say? I feel like that’s very, very corny.”

Eleanor laughed at the titles he gave himself. “Well then, I think we’ll get along just fine, Charlie. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that I have a hard time shutting up once I get going. Also, I’m pretty sure we’ve spoken before online. Actually I’m sure of it, you’re the rockstar! Now would be the perfect time for that autograph.” She joked lightheartedly but then her smile fell. “Oh no, I’m so sorry to hear about that!” Her curiosity made her want to ask what kind of attack had taken his bandmates from him but decided that it was in poor taste to ask. Maybe one day she’d find out.

When they shook hands her stomach lurched and she had to do everything in her power to remain emotionless against it. Grief swallowed Charlie, that much Eleanor could tell from the brief physical interaction, and she knew instantly that it had everything to do with his friends. It made the question burn on her tongue even more but she swallowed it back because she refused to be rude.

“The world is full of curious people, why do you think interest in true crime has really taken off in the past few years? People are fascinated by tragedy and grief, it's a bit morbid to be completely honest. But again, I’m very sorry to hear of your tragedy - I know we’ve just met but if there’s anything I could ever do to help in any way all you have to do is reach out. It’s kind of my thing, helping people. I get told all the time that I should have become a therapist instead of a writer.” Eleanor had challenged every person who’d presented that idea to her as well, stating that perhaps if she didn’t need so many therapists herself then she might have looked into the profession more seriously. “No need to apologize, there’s no judgment from my side. Actually, I’ve had a bit of tragedy myself recently. My girlfriend…” She choked up but was determined to push through. “My girlfriend has been missing for some time now. Most days I’m just a sad sack of a woman, trust me.” She normally wouldn’t have brought it up, but she wanted Charlie to know that she understood where he came from and that she would not judge him.

After Eleanor apologized, Charlie let a small smile break out across his face. “All is forgiven,” he responded with a gentle nod of his head. “Sometimes the grief is easier to disguise than others. I guess it’s just so strong right now that it’s hard to write, which makes everything a million times harder.” He rubbed his face with his hand, making a noise of frustration when he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to get any writing done today. “What are you writing about? Sure you’re doing way better than me, seeing as how I wrote two words and called it quits.” He smirked, able to poke fun at his situation despite the very real frustration he felt.

Charlie’s smile softened as Eleanor talked about escaping to a world of creatures that didn’t mean any harm, not like the real world. “Well if you ever need someone to write around for a body-doubling situation, I’m always around. Though I will warn you that I mutter to myself and tap my pen on any surface I can find.” He crossed his arms over his chest with that same smile still spread on his features. “I don’t think it’s corny at all,” he decided with a shake of his head. “I think it’s beautiful, in a way. Escapism can be a real problem, but also it’s a beautiful experience to be transported somewhere else through your own imagination, you know?” 

Charlie found himself letting out a bark of a laugh as Eleanor called him the rockstar, then remembered the conversation he’d had online with someone about asking if she should get his autograph. “No, you don’t want my autograph! It’s just a scribble that I pretend is my name, but it’s definitely just a scribble.” Charlie was quick to explain, a laugh in his voice as he explained himself. Then, the conversation turned dark. The light in his eyes left and the smile faded as she explained about her girlfriend. 

“God, I’m sorry, Eleanor.” Charlie spoke in earnest. “My… boyfriend was the drummer. We’d been together for two years. He was killed in the attack. I’m the only one left.” Charlie shook his head, staring down at the ground as he remembered that moment when Gareth let go of his hand as he was dragged away. Charlie shuddered, and forced himself back to the present. “I’m sorry that I can relate to you in a way.” His voice was quiet and far away, struggling to pull himself to reality. “I’m… I’m always here if you need someone to talk to, or if you need someone to follow a crazy lead with.” He put a hand up, volunteering himself. “You have a friend in me.”

For a moment Eleanor wondered if Charlie was able to read her mind because of the way he so greatly described everything she felt. It had taken a while for her to get back to her keyboard and start writing again when Lily went missing because the grief had taken over everything else and left no room for the creativity that was needed to proceed with her job. In fact, at one point she had considered leaving the profession altogether because she did not believe that she would ever feel up to writing again, but one random day she woke up and was able to come up with a plot and a handful of characters and she’d made a beeline for her computer to get everything down before it disappeared again. She hadn’t stopped working since that day. “Grief is… hell, to put it very, very simply.”

Little did Charlie know, he had opened the floodgates with one simple question. Eleanor loved to talk about her upcoming novel without giving too much away, just enough to make the other person want to read it. “Oh, it’s a horror novel, the first that I’ve ever written actually. I’ve published two romance novellas in the past but this was an entirely different beast but I’ve enjoyed the entire process. I can’t even tell you the number of hours I’ve put into just research alone… it’s not that easy to jump from romance to horror but I think it’s almost healed something in me. Like, I was able to put the monsters on the page and because I’m the one writing them and nothing they do can catch me off guard… I don’t know, it's helped with a lot of real life monsters.” Literally and figuratively, but she didn’t want to get into that at the moment. “A lot of it is inspired by Wicked’s Rest itself, I don’t think I would have come up with the idea if I hadn’t moved here. There’s a handful of main characters and in the end only one survives. It’s very exciting.”

Eleanor truly appreciated his offer. “I will definitely keep that in mind. And I can assure you that your muttering and pen tapping will not bother me because my keyboard is so loud I probably won’t even be able to hear it. I like the loudest clickety ones I can find.” It had started to get scary how Charlie seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. He was right about escapism, for example, because wasn’t that the entire reason she’s started writing in the first place? She’d spent most of her childhood bouncing around to different foster homes and books were the only thing that allowed her a peace of mind and some time away from the troubles she faced. “I know exactly what you mean, trust me. When I was a kid I started to write as a way to forget - my first original story was written exclusively in green crayon.” She stated proudly.

“No need to apologize, you’re not at fault.” An intense feeling of despair squeezed at Eleanor’s heart as she listened to Charlie’s story. She thought she might be able to imagine the kind of pain he was in, she was very nearly in the same boat, wasn’t she? But Lily wasn’t… she couldn’t have been dead. She felt her presence, sometimes weaker than the day before, but still she was there. She wasn’t sure what she would do if she ever woke up and didn’t feel the love of her life. It would be the greatest loss. “Charlie, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to have that memory pulled up, I just… I’m so sorry.” She wasn’t sure what to say and she wanted to reach out and lightly touch his arm but contained herself - she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the grief that would wash over her if she did. She forced a smile and nodded. “And I hope you know that the same goes for me as well. I promise I’m a good listener once I stop talking. I’m capable! But you might regret the offer to follow up on leads with me, sometimes I don’t make the best decisions.” She laughed although it was a fairly true statement. How many times had she had to be saved because of her poor decisions? “You know you’re pretty cool, rockstar, I’m glad you irritated me with your pacing or else we wouldn’t have spoken to each other.”

“Damn straight,” Charlie responded with wide eyes, shaking his head. Grief was a funny thing. Some days, it didn’t hit so hard. On other days, it was like a tidal wave pulling him under. Charlie frowned, not wanting to get lost in the idea and feeling of his own grief. Then, she was talking about her books again, about her writing process. “My first song was written in a pink glitter gel pen that I borrowed from my friend Stacey,” Charlie replied with a grin. “It was about cheese, I’m pretty sure.” He spoke, narrowing his eyes as he remembered the details. “I dunno, I was eight, and cheese was pretty damn inspiring, I guess.” He pulled a face in a ‘what can you do’ manner and shrugged his shoulders. 

In truth, Charlie hated thinking about what happened those weeks ago. An event still so fresh in his mind he isn’t quite sure if he’s even begun to properly process it yet. He was able to talk about it, sure, but he wasn’t sure if he was able to fully comprehend that he’d never see his friends again, never feel Gareth’s comforting touch, or Lindz’s harsh laugh that always made him smile, no matter how much she claimed she hated it. Vik’s ability to capture any moment on camera and make it look good and not blurry like Charlie. 

Charlie felt his heart squeeze at the idea of someone losing their partner, but still being alive. “I don’t think I’ve fully processed it,” he finally said aloud, voicing the truth into words. “I don’t think I’m there yet.” He scratched at the side of his face idly, more of a nervous tick than actually itching. “Maybe I’ll get there soon. I just… can’t, yet.” Charlie raised his shoulders high, clearly out of his comfort zone on talking about these things with a complete stranger to this level of detail. 

Charlie cracked a smile as Eleanor talked about being glad to have met him, and Charlie nodded his head slowly, the smile growing. “Yeah, likewise, writer girl. I want to read your horror novel when it’s done. And we could also do the writing thing together, I know I could use someone to keep me focused sometimes, I’m kinda a mess with my process.” Charlie looked back to his blanket, which had his guitar and several notebooks full of words splayed out on its surface. “Yep, mess.” 

“Oh, pink glitter pen beats green crayon! And cheese is pretty damn good, young Charlie was definitely onto something when he wrote that song. If you still had it, that would be hilarious to release just to give your listeners something to humor themselves with.” Eleanor had sensed that something was unresolved within Charlie before he spoke the words but she was surprised to hear him actually confess it. “I kind of picked up on that. I mean…” She’d spoken before truly giving herself time to think over her words. She wasn’t sure how someone might take the news that she was able to feel their emotions, it wasn’t exactly something she would have believed herself. “I mean in the way that you’re speaking about it. I think the most important thing to remember is that the process isn’t linear and that you’re going to have to go at your own pace, don’t let anyone rush you. Also expect to have hard days even months and years from now. At least that’s what my therapist says.” She added with a giggle.

She knew that she would never be totally over Lily, whatever path she decided to take in order to go forward with her own life, and that hurt her immensely. Eleanor had spent most of her life looking for someone who would take her as she was without asking too much of her and Lily had been that person. Perhaps selfishly she wondered if she would ever find that again and it made her even more upset to think about - she had wanted to be with the first love of her life forever but that possibility had been snatched right out of her hands. Most of the time that made her unhappy but sometimes it made her uncharacteristically angry. Why had her life been turned upside down? What had she ever done to deserve such a punishment?

Eleanor made a mental note to write down his name on her list of people who would be receiving copies of her novel free of charge. “You’ll be one of the first people to receive a copy hot off the press so expect it sometime this autumn, just in time for Halloween.” She was delighted to hear that he would actually be interested in writing together and she stood on her tiptoes out of excitement. “We can totally be a mess together, you just let me know whenever you’re ready. Editing is taking up pretty much all of my time right now so I’m literally almost always working unless I'm out here just looking for some inspiration for my writing. I can introduce you to the pomodoro method that I use, it’s been such a helpful time management tool.” Lily had once been her reminder to get away from the computer and walk around, drink some water, have something to eat, but now she relied on the timer on her computer.

She looked over at his belongings and shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes I find a little bit of comfort in the chaos. What fun would being tidy all the time be? Those people with perfectly clean homes and clothes that have zero wrinkles or stains scare me anyway. How are they so put together?” Eleanor shuddered to emphasize her point. “I’m rambling, but what I’m trying to say is that your mess is welcome around me, I don’t judge.”

Charlie shook his head with a laugh, waving his hands. “Nah, definitely not releasing a cheese song from my younger years, I think that one will stay in the vault.” When she said she’d picked up on it, Charlie sighed, not reading too into it, despite maybe picking up on similarities between Eleanor and Finn. “I mean, yeah. You’re right.” Charlie shook his head, knowing that his facade had already begun to crack apart at the seams. It wouldn’t be long until the whole thing shattered and exposed the ugliness that lay underneath. He would fight to keep it buried for as long as it took. 

“I’m just not ready to deal with it.” He decided aloud, gaze going vacant as he got lost in the thoughts that reeled through his mind. Gareth’s comforting touch, Lindz’s loud laugh, Vik’s stick-it-to-’em attitude. Charlie shook his head, trying desperately to stop thinking about it. “But if it happens, I’m glad to know that you’re there.” He gave a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though he did try. 

She then started talking about her method, nodding his head slowly. “Yeah, I’d be down.” He replied with a true smile, one that did reach his eyes this time. “I currently work nearly all hours of the day because it’s hard to turn off,” he confessed. “Maybe having a schedule would make things better, though I’m sure my manager would be pissy that I don’t answer their emails immediately.” Charlie rolled his eyes at the thought. 

A soft smile crossed Charlie’s face as Eleanor continued to talk. For once, it was someone else who kept talking and not him. It was nice to find a kindred spirit in someone like Eleanor. “And yours is welcome around me. I’m glad to have met you.” He thought for a moment, then pointed a finger at her. “I think you should really meet my boyfriend,” Charlie decided with a knowing look. “His name’s Finn. He’s also really good at reading emotions.” If he’d been picking up on things, he was letting Eleanor know now. He shot her a wink. “Seriously, I feel like he could learn a thing or two.”

Eleanor bit her lip to keep herself from laughing as she tried her best to appear serious. “Well if you ever decide that you want to perform it for someone I’m just a message away.” Charlie put up a good front, she had to give him that, but she could tell that he was fighting for his life trying to keep all of his emotions in check. She wouldn’t comment on it any further, not unless he decided to open up about it himself. Already the empath had a bad habit of going around and accidentally sounding like a therapist whenever she spoke with people she could feel needed a little bit of emotional support but she didn’t want to do that to him. She needed to respect his wishes to not speak about it just as those around her had respected that same wish when she’d voiced it.

“I completely understand, my publisher has a short temper.” Eleanor joked in response. “She hates when I don’t get to her emails in a timely manner and even once threatened to have my unfinished book put onto shelves just to drive home how seriously she took deadlines. We get along great, she's just not one to cross.”

Eleanor felt proud of herself for having found another friend. “I’m glad to have met you, too. Even if you did annoy me before we even spoke. I’m still so sorry about that outburst by the way.” But her smile faded when Charlie pointed at her and mentioned his boyfriend and winked at her. Truly he must have been mistaken, she’d never met anyone with the same abilities as herself. “He’s good at it too, huh?” He seemed sure of himself though so she decided to take his word for it. She had no words, just a feeling of relief that flooded her system. There’s someone else like me, I’m not totally alone. “I would love to meet him, actually. The name sounds familiar, we may have spoken online a long while ago but I can’t be certain. What’s he like?”

Nodding his head knowingly, Charlie was more sure of himself by the second. “He has this special talent for knowing exactly how I’m feeling even when I’m hiding it.” He further explained. “Fucking annoying when you’re trying to pretend everything is fine, let me tell you what.” He grumbled to himself, shaking his head in annoyance, but quickly shook it away to further address Eleanor’s growing excitement and curiosity. 

When she said she’d love to meet him, Charlie beamed at her. “He’s a piece of work, that’s what he’s like. Super sarcastic and dry sense of humor.” He explained, waving a hand with a goofy grin on his face. “Despite that, he’d been my best friend for over ten years. He knows he’s got this ability, but he’s struggling with it.” He frowned, looking over to Eleanor, searching her expression for some kind of giveaway. “And if he had someone else that was like him, maybe you two could help each other out.” 

“Despite being a literal empath, he’s bad with emotions. I love him dearly, but he’s always struggled with it. What he needs is a friend who understands him, and I think you could benefit from that too.” Charlie pulled his phone out and showed Finn’s account. “This is him.” He spoke as he handed the phone out to her. “Please, reach out to him. I’d be grateful. I think the three of us could be good friends, but I think the two of you could be even greater friends.”

Eleanor had to laugh because she knew exactly what Charlie meant. “I’m usually told I’m either creepy or annoying, those are the only two. I try to be helpful but sometimes it’s hard when you’re feeling everything all at once and just want it to be quiet. I sometimes think that I should have become a therapist instead of a writer but I don’t think I’d be able to handle the back-to-back negative emotions.” She felt strange speaking about her abilities so candidly but it also felt nice. Only a select few knew of what went on inside her mind but she trusted Charlie and it seemed his boyfriend truly was an empath. She couldn’t contain how happy that made her.

“We’re in luck because I have extensive experience in dealing with both sarcasm and dry humor. You two were friends for that long before dating? That’s cute, I love that! Kind of like a ‘you were always there’ sort of thing, right?” Eleanor had a bad habit of assigning certain book tropes to people in real life but it was how her brain worked and she didn’t know how to stop. “I still struggle from time to time but I’m in a much better place than I was just a few months ago. It would be my pleasure to try and help him out, and who knows, maybe he’ll be able to teach me a thing or two. I’ve never knowingly met with someone else who can do what I do. I wonder…” Her mind raced as she thought of all of the things she’d love to ask Finn. “I have a lot of questions for the poor guy.”

Eleanor knew she’d made the right decision when she made up her mind to come back to Wicked’s Rest, no where else would she accidentally find someone like herself. “I could benefit from that a lot, it’s hard speaking with people who don’t fully understand. No offense!” She took Charlie’s phone and looked through Finn’s profile. “You know what? I think I have spoken with him before but it was very brief and quite a while ago so of course neither of us knew that the other was an empath. I will definitely reach out to him! Thank you! “ Her hand shook with excitement as she handed his phone back. “We’ll have to plan something fun for the three of us to do together. Probably something lowkey, I don’t know what it’s like having two empaths together but I’m sure being out in a crowded area won’t go over well.” She nervously laughed as she thought of all the ways that could go wrong.

Charlie couldn’t help but blush as Eleanor called out a trope that described him and Finn. “Yeah, we were friends for a long ass time. I got famous and started touring, we grew apart. I came here, we reunited and here we are now.” He shrugged, then got reminded of why he ended up in the park in the first place, angry with Finn because he was nowhere to be found when he needed him, the one time he needed him. Anger and regret started to build on top of the pile of grief that was already there, making Charlie suddenly feel a hell of a lot worse. 

“You could always come over to the house,” Charlie offered with a smile, forcing the wave of negative emotions deep down where he couldn’t feel them, where he could lock them away and keep them there, build a brick house around it, and leave it to rot. “Definitely not a crowd, he doesn’t do well with crowds.” Charlie filled in automatically, voice more robotic than human as he fought to control his feelings. 

“I’m glad that we met,” Charlie spoke with a bright smile. “Seriously, keep in touch. I’ll be sure to bother you immediately.” He took a step back toward where his notebook and guitar were, a soft smile crossing his features. “I’ll tell Finn to keep an eye out for a message or something, seriously.” And with that, Charlie turned around and began to pack up. He needed to stop avoiding Finn, and he needed to get his act together, now that there was more than one empath in his life now.

[cloud-somersault]

😈🧐🎨💞🤩

aww, thank you!! and thank you for your tags on ch. 3! 🥰🥰🥰

smiling imp has been answered, but i'll do the others!

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

I spend an embarrassing amount of time on research. I mostly research food and environments. For Constellations, I actually looked at maps of China to get an accurate-ish route for where they would go. Every direction Macaque gives is intentional, except that it's not actually China. But every place they visit is heavily based on a similar area that I researched.

also did research on JTTW, but i've been a fan of that book since forever, so. but mostly cultural and religious things. I love theology, too, so I've been having a good time LMFAO. like all the chapter titles have a deeper meaning. surprised no one has thought about that or at least pointed it out to me 🤔

and every meal and every piece of food. the clothing. the environments. everything is researched as much as I have time for. It eventually gets to a point where I get too tired and remember I'm not getting paid to do this LMFAO

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

I LOVE FANART!!! I feel so honored whenever I get some. I've gotten a few pieces on my other account, and I fuckign SCREAMED and I'm lucky enough to be friends with the people who drew fanart.

Fanart is how I met half of my friends PFFF so I love fanart alot. the fact that someone was so impacted by my work or so inspired they wanted to draw something is AMAZING TO ME. I have so much respect for artists. they're INCREDIBLE

💞 Who's your comfort character?

ohhhh, i don't know if i have one. I like all of them easily. and I don't think of characters that way. i have comfort relationships. shadowpeach is one, and I've got others in other fandoms ofc.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

HMMMMM.... probably Macaque? Or Wukong. I don't know if this means like...writing through their POV or writing ABOUT them through another POV.

If it's writing through their POV, probably Wukong. If it's writing about them from ANOTHER POV, then Macaque.

I also enjoy writing MK. I want to write something in his POV, because I think his introspection would be fun to capture.

[justahappycloud]

citrus smiles?

i actually wasn't prepared to talk about citrus smiles bc that's what i also affectionately call the trauma story

it's a story set in a small town where louis' family life is not the best (read: it's hell) but he hides it from all his friends until at some point he can't keep lying. the story spans over 6 years and it's about growth, getting better and how nothing is the way it seems. heavily inspired on the song "Grow As We Go" by Ben Platt.

here's a little snippet from the first scene (the only one I've been strong enough to write so far):

He looked up and Harry slapped something to his hand.

"There," he smiled, a dimple indenting his cheek. "It wouldn't be fair to take it with me."

"Oh, thanks, but I—"

"No 'but's!" Harry pushed Louis' closed fist to the other boy's chest. "It's a gift. You can't return those. Now, gotta run. See you!"

Louis stood agape as he saw the mat of brown curls pop up and down through the hallway. He looked at his hand. In it, the curve of a tangerine section drew an orange smile on his tan skin.

ask me about my WIPs from this list

[writersblog20]

There’s a storm ahead

Chris Evans x GNreader

Not my gif, creds to: @lovingpostit

Summary: When there’s a big storm coming and your anxiety is consuming you, making it unable to sleep, there is no other way than to walk into Chris’s room for some comfort.

Warnings: anxiety, quick mention of depression and panic attack (if you squeeze). Oh and a big storm.

Words: 2K

A/N: I know I’m not posting as much but I’m trying : ) anyway, we had a storm this weekend  (Eunice) and it really scared me tbh so I drew inspiration from that.

Please if you like the story, reblog. It really does help your homegirl out! I love the likes but unfortanetly they don't do much so pretty please REBLOG 💞

There’s a storm ahead.

You watched the news intently. There was a storm heading your way with a code red given from your country. Normally you didn’t mind storms that much but something about this one gave you just downright anxiety. Maybe it was because you were already anxious and depressed but this gave you one reason more to be anxious. Chris walked up to you “So it’s gonna go down isn’t it?” he asked with his thick Boston accent. You hummed a little and walked off to the kitchen to get your mind on something else.

Chris stayed with you for a while now and you became great friends. Your family worked on set with him a lot and brought you along and that’s how you met Chris. When he was searching for a place you offered a room to him and he took it. You became very close and your crush quickly grew into love.

Chris knew about your depression and anxiety and tried his best to help you. He quickly became your safe haven but you never told him that, scared that if you did, you could lose it.

You looked outside and it was already storming and the actual storm wasn’t even here yet. Chris made his way to the kitchen. He was dressed comfortably in his grey joggings and a black shirt. He looked at you and the frown between your eyebrows as you looked outside. “Hey, you okay?” he asked. You quickly looked his way. “Yeah” you tried to convince him but more yourself. He nodded, obviously not believing you but if you wanted to talk about it, he knew you would so he would let it go for now.

It started to rain but very heavily with some hail as it hit your windows loudly. Chris saw how on edge you were and looked outside as well and he started to catch on but didn’t say anything. “Want to watch a movie?” he asked you softly. “Yeah sure” Chris smiled “I’ll grab the beer. We can watch that movie you wanted to see for a while now, it’s on Netflix!” he told you while grabbing the beers from the refrigerator.

“Scream 5? It’s on Netflix?” you asked him genuinely interested. “Yeah, I just looked.” He got some corn to make popcorn out off the cabinets. “Can’t have a good slasher film without popcorn now can we?” he teased in hopes to make you feel a little better. You chuckled but it wasn’t genuine and you both knew it but that didn’t mean he was going to give up.

While Chris made the popcorn, you put on some warm comforting lights and candles so you had some light but not too much. You plopped on the couch and Chris plopped down as well, not much later. The bowl of popcorn between the two of you. You grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped yourself in it. Chris looked at you with adoration in his eyes and smiled softly at you. “my little burrito.” He murmured but loud enough for you to hear. You chuckled, this time more genuine which made him smile more at his victory.

Chris propped his legs up on the table and handed you your beer as you both mindlessly watched the movie. You had to turn up the volume of the tv as the pouring rain on your window made too  much noise.

But that meant that the ‘jump scares’ were louder as well. Normally you didn’t mind that much but as the tv was at high volume right now, the jump scares hit a little bit different. Chris noticed and chuckled softly as he placed the bowl besides him. You eyed him as he took away the popcorn, which he noticed and chuckled. “Come here burrito. You can cuddle up to me if you want. That’s why I placed the bowl aside.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice as you scooped closer to Chris. He wrapped his arm around you and you leaned comfortably into his side as you snuggled more into the blanket. His head leaned against yours while you tried to fish some popcorn but Chris still held onto the bowl and slowly moved it away further out of your reach.

You frowned and made a dip over him but he just kept moving it away from you. You got out of his side to see the smug smile on his face. “Chris.” You whined as you tried to reach it again but to no avail. You threw yourself over him to get to the bowl and finally got it. You could hear Chris’s deep chuckle rumbling as you laid completely over him. You groaned as you got the bowl and back to your place. Chris poked your side and you squealed. “I’m sorry pumpkin, I was teasin.” His Boston accent coming forward again.

You huffed but couldn’t fight the small smile that was creeping up on your face. You leaned back against Chris, snuggled in your blanket again and held on to the bowl.

All of a sudden the wind picked up extremely fast and both of your phones went off. It was an alert to stay inside because it was too dangerous to go out. Chris saw you making yourself smaller, as you could, into his arm and into the blanket. He knew he needed to be gentle with you and stop with the teasing since he noticed that you were scared.

You watched the movie again and rested your head against his chest, trying to find comfort and safety which worked. You both ate the popcorn and drank some beer. When there was a jump scare, you would hide in your blanket slightly and Chris’s arm would tighten around you. So now and then he would plant kisses on your head, trying to comfort you. It was nice, you felt very loved at that moment.  

After the movie ended you called it a night, wished Chris goodnight and went upstairs. The storm wasn’t even on it’s peak yet and the house was already creaking. With every gust of wind, you could feel the impact on the house. You quickly freshened up and crawled into bed. The covers slightly over your head in an attempt to hide away.

You read a book and listened to calming music but you couldn’t keep your mind off the anxiety. You felt the tears slip, feeling so incredibly miserable and anxious that it tired you out but the adrenaline and stress kept you awake.

Maybe you should go to Chris, you thought. But you also didn’t want to be a burden but then again, you were starting to get really scared as the wind kept picking up. You slowly made your way out of bed with heavy heart and feet. You dragged yourself to the hallway. Everything was dark but you could make your way through and stood in front of Chris’s room.

You were pacing on one foot to the other with anxiety. You stood there now but you had a hard time knocking on his door. He always said that if there was something, you could always come to him or wake him but you never did until this moment.

When you finally could bring yourself to knock on his door, you heard a groggy voice say “come in.” You opened the door softly and peeked in. Chris held himself up on his elbows, his hair messy and you knew you had woken him up.

Once he saw you, still leaning on one foot to the other he opened up his blanket for you and gave you a soft smile. You patted towards the empty side of the bed. You saw that Chris was only wearing boxers, his tattoos showing off and you felt yourself grow shy. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” you whispered softly as you tucked the covers slightly over your head again.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you did. Is it the storm that got you feeling this way?” he asked you softly and you nodded. “I don’t know why I’m scared.” He hummed, understanding. “Your anxiety building up?” he asked you as he laid face to face with you. You nodded in response. “Probably just searching for stuff to worry about.” He gave you a sympathetic smile.

“come here sweetheart.” He told you and pulled you closer to his warm radiating body. You arm was around his torso, while his arms held you tightly, your head resting on his chest as he pulled the covers more over you. “You’re safe here, I won’t let anything happen to you sweetheart.” You held him tighter in response. “Thank you Chris, I love you.” you quickly opened your eyes in realization to what you just had said.

He put his finger underneath your chin so you would look at him. Your heart almost beating out of your chest. His eyes were so kind and gentle when he looked at you. It was with all the love and adoration. He came a little closer to your face without breaking eye contact. “And I love you Y/N. Very much.” He told you with intense eye contact so the message would be clear.

Your heart still beating out of your chest when his nose softly touched yours and nuzzled it slightly. His palm softly caressing your cheek. He gave you time to pull away but you never did, hinting to him that he could kiss you.

He placed his lips gently on yours, waiting with moving but just enjoying each other. You breathed in the kiss, feeling some sort of release from all the worrying, like it just melted away. You moved your body closer to his and slowly started moving in the kiss. His big hands found your hips and he carefully and softly squeezed them before pulling your body even closer.

You felt his tongue slip in and you gracefully let him as your hands wondered through his hair which was so soft and fluffy. You let your hand rest on his chest. You could feel his heart beating just as fast as yours and the warmth radiating through your hand from his body. The butterflies were released in your stomach as you felt Chris’s tongue against yours.

After a while you both pulled back and he let his forehead rest against yours. It was silent at first and Chris was the first to break it carefully “I want you and only you. I want you to be mine.” He told you self-assured. You smiled softly, not comprehending what was actually happening. “I want to be yours and I want you to be mine.” He smiled and you mirrored his actions. He placed his lips on yours again, this time more heated as he scooped you up, almost on top of him.

He broke away from the kiss, only to place one on your nose and forehead. “I’ll always protect you.” you smiled softly and kissed the side of his cheek that was covered with his beard. “I know. I feel safe with you.” he smiled and his heart took a leap from happiness.

He placed his arms around you, his hand softly rubbing circles on your head to comfort you. “Get some rest baby, you deserve it. I’m here when you need me. I’ll always be here.” You looked up, finally feeling like you could give into some sleep. You gave him soft kisses and laid back down. “I love you.” he smiled and went with his hand over your head and kissed it. “I love you too sweetheart.”

You focused on his breathing, his fingers that made circles on your head, massaging it, his other hand that was on your back carefully and gently rubbing it up and down. You felt his calmness radiating which calmed you down. You slowly closed your eyes, finally feeling safe and comforted as the warmth of his body and the covers tightly around you, finally put you to a deep slumber of peaceful dreams.

Taglist: @rogersdrysdalebarber @patzammit

[godlessandwrecked]

it’s time to go | r. lupin

She’s a brilliant witch. The perfect pure blood daughter from the House of Black. His best friend’s twin sister. The girl he’s always loved. Everything he wants but cannot have. And he’s just Remus. Just....Remus. Her unwilling engagement and a party at Grimmauld Place is sure to be the least perfect situation for a heart to heart.

part 2 part 3

WORD COUNT: 3,2k

PAIRING: remus lupin x female reader (sirius’ sister, no physical descriptors)

CONTENTS: angst.... like,, a lot / talks of low self esteem and self worth over remus’ condition / arranged marriage / mentions of alcohol consumption and smoking

A/N: (this is a repost, the original is an oc version) I’ve had this idea in my head for months and I finally got around to writing it. this is heavily inspired by Ms. Swift’s it’s time to go, although it has nothing to do with the actual song and it’s way more heartbreaking than I intended it to be x

Remus couldn’t believe it when Sirius told him.

He thought it was a joke at first, but his friend’s grim look was enough proof to know what he was saying was true. And deep in his heart, he had known. He had known this moment would come sooner or later, given her family’s status. He had discussed it with her before, but he just couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

She was engaged. Y/N was engaged.

Engaged to some older, pure blood, rich guy from France, against her own will, by her family’s wishes. Her parents had arranged her marriage to some man she didn’t even know, all for some nonsense about keeping the blood purity she didn’t believe in at all. 

His heart ached for her. He had spent three days laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why she had to go through with something like that. Why her, out of all people—the sweet, carefree girl whose heart longed for adventure, and freedom. 

And then the letter arrived.

As the stark white owl tapped on his window, he recognized the stamp with her initials first, and then, without even needing to read her signature, the unmistakable neat calligraphy, with the big elegant loops of her handwriting.

She was inviting him to the engagement party her parents were hosting for her at Grimmauld Place. More like, she was begging him to please come. The letter was brief and it didn’t go into much detail, but he could only guess how overwhelmingly un-excited she felt about it all by the lack of exclamation points and little doodles she always drew in her letters addressed to him. And his heart ached even more.

He wasn’t up for a party full of blood purists to celebrate something he didn’t think should even be happening, but he couldn’t tell her no. How could he? He was a fool for her, and what a shitty friend would he be if he didn’t show up to support her?

So he put on his best suit—borrowed it from his father—and showed up to the damn party with James and Lily by his side, looking as gloom as ever, his heart heavy in his chest.

It’s been over an hour now and he doesn’t even know what Sirius is telling him anymore. He’s seeing his mouth move and the exaggerated gestures he’s making with his hands, but he has no idea what he’s saying. He can only guess he’s complaining about his parents’ choice and his sister’s free will—he hasn’t shut up about it since he received the news—but Remus is too focused on what’s happening on the other side of the room. 

He’s been sneakily stealing glances at her all night, quickly diverting his gaze down when he felt her about to stare his way, just so he wouldn’t meet her eyes and choke on his drink. She looks so beautiful, as she always does, but she looks terribly grim, her usual sunny smile long gone and replaced by a slight pout and a frown.

Remus hasn’t talked to her yet. Her fiancé has made sure that she has talked to every single person in the room before she even gets to talk to her actual friends, but Remus has been studying her carefully the whole time he’s been there. As she walks from group of people to group of people, putting on a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and as if on cue, dropping it as soon as she walks away, back to looking bored and uninterested, so uncharacteristic of the girl he knows. 

And what to say about him. Remus has no words to describe him. That asshole.

He hasn’t exchanged a single word with him, but he doesn’t need to. He knows just the type of person he is, and he knows his type very well: so entitled, so seemingly superior to everyone else. Textbook, standard rich asshole blood purist.

The things Sirius has said about him have only made his hatred for him bigger, if that’s possible, and he can’t believe she’s being forced to marry someone like that. Someone so opposite to her, with views she doesn’t agree with. 

Remus is sending daggers his way, keeping on ignoring whatever his friend is saying. And the dumb fuck is right across the room, sporting a disgusting proud smile, drinking from his champagne flute and fondly laughing with his friends. Meanwhile, she’s hanging by his arm, crestfallen and clearly uncomfortable. 

He can’t bear to keep looking at them for any longer. Or to be in the same room as him when she’s looking so sad and out of place beside him. Remus’ head is getting hotter and hotter with anger as the minutes go by, the room feeling heavy and suffocating, and he wants to scream out of impotence because she just doesn’t deserve any of this. 

He’s suddenly apologizing to his friends, making up a shitty excuse about smoking and practically running to the back door, stumbling through the sea of people and stepping out into the dark courtyard.

Fishing for a cigarette in his back pocket, he places it between his lips and reaches for his zippo, and he barely has time to flick it open when—

“Remus,”

A soft, lulling voice calling his name makes him turn around harshly. The sweet, unmistakable voice of the girl that’s been in his mind all summer, since the last time he saw her at King’s Cross at the beginning of the holidays.

His sweet girl. 

Except, she’s not yours, he corrects himself. 

She’s standing there, in a silky, strappy, long dress in a breathtaking shade of emerald green that hugs her body beautifully; high heels and her hair pinned up in an intricate updo, held together by little pearl pins that glisten in the faint moonlight. She looks out of this world, like a heaven sent apparition that’s sure to haunt him for the rest of his life; a phantasmagoric vision that he’s sure will be engraved in his mind until he takes his last breath. 

“Hey,” she smiles her usual warm grin, and she is back to looking like the girl he knows so well. 

“Hi,” he manages to choke out. It’s like he’s seeing her for the very first time all over again, and he doesn’t even know what to say. He’s out of words and too preoccupied with staring at her mouth, her blood red pout leaving him breathless. 

“How was your summer? I heard you were at James’,” she asks politely, always so well mannered. 

He hasn’t seen her in almost three months and he thinks he might faint. The ground is trembling and he’s holding onto his cigarette for dear life, afraid he’s gonna drop it and set himself on fire or burn a hole through his shoe.

Her striking eyes, dark and enchanting in the dim light of the courtyard, are staring at him intently and carefully, waiting for an answer. She looks almost overwhelmed and eager for his response, and she seems to be as taken aback by him as he is by her, like she’s been dying to see him too, and his heart swells with a shred of hope. 

He swallows the lump in his throat roughly, because he can’t afford to be hopeful when it comes to her. Not anymore. He has made peace with that already, or at least he thinks he has, because looking at her now, he’s not quite so sure.

“It was good. You look beautiful,” he points out, trying very hard to make it sound casual and hide the fact that he is melting into the mossy cobblestones under her scorching hot stare. 

As he stares at her, biting down on her lip nervously at his compliment, he starts to feel that familiar feeling once again. The one he feels only around her, when it’s just the two of them. Sort of like he can’t breathe and his stomach is settling in strangely.

Merlin, does he want her bad.

He just wants to know what it feels like, just this once. That’s all he needs, to kiss her just once. He wants to hold her pretty face in his hands and plant his lips on hers just to see if he can finally get rid of that feeling forever. Just feel her soft lips on his, his hands on her cheeks, assuring her everything will be okay in hushed whispers.

For a moment, he thinks he might actually go through with it, but he doesn’t. He holds back, he has to. Instead, he swallows hard, the need and desire to feel her touch bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

There’s no way she can have this kind of effect on him, for fuck’s sake.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, fiddling with the diamond ring sitting on her left hand, dainty fingers playing with the gleaming stone.

He glances at it and suddenly everything feels even more real than when he was watching the newly engaged couple inside, fire burning on his throat as he stared at that guy’s dirty hand around her waist as they greeted all their guests. 

“I was gonna say congratulations, but I don’t think that’s what you wanna hear,” he confesses.

“You do know me better than anyone, Rem,” she nods her head.

He forces a painful laugh at that, because he does and it fucking hurts. “How are you? Is he treating you right? Do I have to get into a verbal fight with him that I will for sure win?” 

She laughs because she knows he would, and his heart swells at the sound. “He-“ she stutters. “He’s fine. Nice enough, I guess.” 

She finally cracks under his sympathetic gaze, her smile dropping, her delicately built up walls and the facade she’s been holding up the whole night crumbling to pieces under his warm presence. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she keeps stuttering over her words, and for a moment he thinks it might be the cold, but he knows it’s because she’s devastated and terrified, and he just wants to run to her and hold her in his arms. “I thought I was free. I thought I had a grip on my own life, but I don’t. I have no freedom. And everything’s going downhill, and I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he says sincerely, for once not having an answer for her. “I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve any of this.”

He doesn’t know how to comfort her because he can only guess how deeply she’s hurting, and there are no encouraging words he can tell her, because he doesn’t want this for her either. 

“I’m being sold to him like some dog, just like my poor cousins,” she says, sitting down on the edge of the large stone fountain decorating the center of the courtyard. “I’m destined to be the perfect wife to a husband that I don’t love and live an unfulfilling and unhappy life raising his children. That’s what I was raised for. For a while I thought I could escape my fate, you know? But here we are. Who cares about what I want, right?” she scoffs, a bitter look on her face.

“Don’t say that,” Remus speaks, sitting down next to her. “You’ll be happy,” he doesn’t believe a single word he’s telling her. “You’ll get married, yes, and I’m sure you’ll learn to love-”

“How can you say that?” she cuts in a fiery tone, staring at him with a frown. “How can you say that, when you know better than anyone that that’s not true? You know exactly what would make me happy, Remus.” 

He shakes his head, staring at the floor.

He does know exactly what she’s referring to, and he can’t bring himself to meet her gaze, afraid that if he looks into her eyes he’ll give in and tell her things he’ll later regret. “We’ve talked about this-”

“Have we? How can you just pretend you’re okay with this?” She stands up, “How can you act like it doesn’t hurt you too? Remus-”

“What do you want me to do?” he rises his voice now, the feelings he’s trying to hold back for her sake bubbling up to the surface. “I know it’s not fair that they’re doing this to you. Believe me, I do, and I’m fucking enraged. But what do you want me to do about it? I’m completely powerless here.”

“You just have to say it,” she speaks in a small, fragile voice. “Just say it and it’s done. I’ll do anything you want me to, you just need to say it.”

Just say it.

That he loves her. That he wants her. It’s all she needs to hear from him to give everything up. 

He wishes he was the one marrying her. Fuck, how he wishes he could spend the rest of his life by her side and give her everything. Anyone would be lucky to be with her, and he feels like such a fool for believing for even a moment he could be that someone to her, for allowing himself to even dream about it.

He has spent five years of his life pining over her, desperately clinging to pathetic hope and painfully wishing she wasn’t so out of his league and he was someone else and they could be together. But he’s 18 now, he’s not a kid anymore, and he knows some things aren’t destined to be. He knows that even if you wish for something very hard, some wishes are never to be fulfilled. 

He’s shaking his head again, because he just can’t. As much as he’s dying to, he can’t do that to her. “You have to understand-”

“I don’t have to understand anything,” she cuts him. “Remus, I lov-”

“Don’t,” he stops her, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “Please, don’t say it.”

He knows he won’t be able to do what he’s about to do if she tells him she loves him, so he continues talking in a stale, determined voice, “I want what’s best for you, and this is it. I don’t want your family to disown you. I don’t want you to give everything up for something that might not even work. I would never forgive myself if that happened. You deserve a good life, one I could never give you.”

He’s thought about this. He’s had an argument with himself about it for years, and he was hoping he would never have to voice it, hoping it would never get to this point, because Godric knows he would rather die than lose her, but he’s here now, and it’s what he has to do. 

He has come to terms with it now. They can never be together, because she’s, well... her.

She comes from a wealthy, pure blood family that would never allow her to be with someone like him. In choosing him she would have to give up her family, and he can’t make her choose.

And not only that, but he’s also a werewolf. He’s a damn werewolf, and he can’t put her through the torment of tending to him for the rest of her life after every full moon and possibly hurting her or something worse. Not to mention he won’t be able to give her children, because what if. And he can’t even provide for her. He has nothing to his name and he’s unemployed because no one will take him in or trust him enough. 

There’s a million other reasons as to why it’s best if he stays away from her, and they all go back to his condition. His stupid, damned lycanthropy that has been ruining everything good in his life since he was five. He can’t believe he’s allowing it to ruin yet another good thing, but he has to keep reminding himself this is for her and her sake. And he would do anything for her. 

“But I want you,” she says stubbornly, breathing raggedly in anguish as tears roll down her face. 

He can’t bear to see her cry. It breaks his heart. So he just stares at his shoes. “No, you don’t.” He doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince her or himself, but he doesn’t think it’s working either way. 

“Yes, I do,” she says desperately, kneeling between his legs as he shakes his head, his eyes still locked to the floor. “Yes, I do. You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. You make me happy, Remus. And I know I make you happy too. I know you believe you don’t deserve good things, but you do. You do.” She takes his face into her shaking hands, forcing him to look at her. “Why can’t you just let me love you? Please, let me make you happy, Remus.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t. This could never work,” he bites his lip, holding back the tears because he’s lying through his teeth, and it’s clear as day. He painfully forces himself to step away from her, untangling himself from her grip and getting up from where he was sitting. “I can’t give you what you want, I’m sorry.”

He looks down at her, and he swears he can hear his soul rip in two at the sight of her.

She looks broken. Defeated. Her stare is blank and she’s looking right past him with glossy eyes, her gaze not really settled anywhere. He’s rejecting her, and it feels like a bucket of ice cold water being poured over you; like a punch to the gut that leaves you gasping for air for a few seconds.

He’s sure this is what taking a knife to the stomach must feel like. 

“I wish you nothing but happiness, I really do. You deserve everything. Everything.”

And he’s walking away, not even daring to look back, too afraid if he does he’ll turn back around and run to her, stumbling at her feet, confessing his undying love for her and begging her for them to elope together.

He walks away, slowly but surely, leaving a breaking heart and an empty girl in the courtyard, the moonlight breaking through her disheveled pinned up hair, all cold hands and trembling shoulders. 

“I love you,” she says in a broken whisper, and he barely hears her, but he stops in his tracks. 

He stays glued to the place for a few seconds, but he doesn’t turn around. He can’t believe he’s doing it, and he doesn’t know where his strong will has come from, but he resumes his step and keeps walking away. Because he has to.

He knows this is not a matter of choice—Merlin knows if he could choose, he would choose her over the sun, the moon and the stars, at any given day. He can’t believe he’s letting her slip past his fingers, and he may be the biggest fool in the whole world for letting her go, but it’s the right thing to do.

He knows she might not feel like it is at the moment, and she might hate him for the rest of her days, but if that is the price to pay for her well-being, then so be it. He would do it a thousand times over. Because that is what love is. And he loves her.

[ikaroux]

Xiao: Always (part 2) (EN)

f!reader

The Japanese dubbing of Kirito (Sword art online), helped me a lot to imagine how Xiao's emotions would be expressed.

The ost that inspired me a lot for most of the scenes:

Ori and the will of the wisps: Fading of the Light and The story of Niwen (The ost in general fits Xiao perfectly <3)

Masterlist

Part 1

You had been in Liyue for several months now for your research. You had met several people there, some of whom had turned into real friendships. Hu Tao, Ganyu and the lovely Qiqi were the only girls with whom you had formed a real friendship and then there was Mr. Zhongli with whom you liked to talk a lot.

But above all you met Xiao, a taciturn young man with a cold look in his eyes. After some research, you learned who he really was, a follower protecting Liyue at the risk of his life. He was also known as the last surviving Yaksha, fighting day and night against the emanations of the ancient evil gods killed by the Geo Archon.

Zhongli, who had revealed to you who he really was, often spoke to you about Xiao. Sometimes he would ask you to bring him some medicine specially designed for him to relieve the pain that was eating him up inside.

This was not a big problem for you, as you were staying at the Wangshu Inn. It was perfectly located in the centre of Liyue, making it easier for you to get to different research sites. Zhongli had explained to you that this inn was a front, built mainly to relieve Xiao a little from his eternal burden.

Since your meeting with the adept, you had never dared to call him, for fear of disturbing him. You simply left Zhongli's small gifts in his flats, placed prominently on the table in the centre of the room.

A gift... you had wanted to give him one for some time, but not knowing his tastes, it was difficult to decide. What if he doesn't like it? What if he got mad at you? What if... You then thought of the innkeeper in Wangshu who had known Xiao for a while, she must have known a thing or two about the follower's tastes!

After consulting Verr Goldet on what Xiao liked, she taught you how to prepare the young man's favourite dish. So you prepared tofu with almonds once or twice a week as a gift to him. But even so, he never deigned to show himself to you again.

Yet Xiao was never far from you, always hidden in the shadows watching you, protecting you from the dangers that lurked.

The bond he felt between you and him had never disappeared. Near you, all the pain, all the suffering he felt disappeared. He knew that you were human, so fragile, so fleeting compared to him who had lived for millennia, yet in his eyes you were a true goddess. The night he saw you surrounded by this halo of light, his world was turned upside down. Of course he had discussed this with his master, Morax, or rather Zhongli as he liked to be called from now on.

Xiao asked him during one of their conversations:

"I don't understand, I can never take my eyes off her and my heart - he placed his hand on his chest, clutching the white tunic he was wearing - hurts when I lose sight of her for even a few seconds. I don't understand... Sir Zhongli, I don't understand..."

His voice often broke at such moments. Zhongli then placed his hand on the follower's shoulder, a gentle smile on his face.

"Talk to him and you will finally understand. "he would say to her each time.

"I can't... If I stay around her too long... the darkness around me will eventually engulf her too. "

The sadness in Zhongli's eyes matched the sadness in Xiao's. The adept would often leave without the answer he so eagerly awaited, going to the balcony of the inn to sit on the railing and gaze at the stars. When his gaze turned to his room, more precisely to the small round wooden table in the centre, he was looking for proof of your presence. Almost every day you would leave him an offering, medicine, the almond tofu he loved so much, a flower, a mineral or an artefact you had found on your expeditions. Every little gift you gave him made him forget his torments for a short while, savouring the joy he felt at the time. He treasured every item you gave him, carefully stored in a small gold box encrusted with jade.

When the moon was high in the sky, Xiao would sometimes go to your room, passing by your balcony to see if you were sleeping. Sometimes he would go inside the moonlit room to see your sleeping face. He thought you were terribly beautiful, he had never been so fascinated by anyone, let alone a mortal. He would sometimes tuck a strand of your hair back behind your ear, slightly disturbing your sleep, and you would wrinkle your nose with a groan, causing him to back away hastily.

When Xiao was sure you were still asleep, he would take the opportunity to give you a gift of his own, placed on your bedside table.

As he did every night, he would end up sitting on the roof of your balcony watching for any threat to you.

By the time the sun came up, Xiao was already gone. When you woke up, you would find objects that were not there the day before. It could be a crystal nucleus or sometimes a Qingxin flower, which made you smile every time. You kept all the gifts he gave you as a treasure.

Today you had to go to Mondstadt to visit your friend Lisa, whom you had met in Sumeru. She had come one year to visit her former teachers, introducing herself to the students in the class. The two of you had talked a lot, creating a bond of friendship that you had maintained through correspondence.

In your last exchanges, she expressed a wish to see you, which you gladly accepted. You had planned to stay there for a week, so it was not surprising that you were preparing some things to take with you.

Even though your protector never showed up in front of you, at least not since that night when he gave you his name, you wanted to leave him a letter to explain that you would be back in Liyue in a week.

Before leaving, you left him a plate of tofu with almonds, your letter carefully placed next to the plate.

You didn't think that the wind would blow your letter away from him before he had even read it.

Xiao was accompanying Aether and two other companions for the day. They were to help him confront creatures once sealed in an ancient temple near the nine pillars of Cuijue Slope. The battle was long and difficult, but in the end they managed to exterminate the monsters, allowing Aether to retrieve the treasure that lay deep in the ruins. Xiao hurried back to the Wangshu Inn, feeling a bottomless pit forming inside him. He had been feeling uneasy for a while, a part of him wanted to make sure you were okay. When he arrived at his flat, he saw that you had left him a plate of tofu with almonds, and he took a bite, although he was too nervous to really enjoy them properly.

Xiao put his hand over his face in great pain.

His chest hurt terribly, the voices in his head tortured him again and his body seemed to be chained by the darkness inside him. Why was this? His karma hadn't weighed so heavily on him since he... since he... had met you.

He exhaled loudly, a sudden fear filling his body, making his hands tremble. Without further questioning, he quickly disappeared through his anemo vision and landed in your room. It was pitch black and looked horribly empty. The books usually scattered around your room were gone, your things were gone, your wardrobe was empty.

"No... no... don't go... (Y/n) don't go..."

His voice trembled in shock as his eyes still searched for traces of your presence.

"(Y/n)..."

Nothing. There was nothing. Nothing left. You were gone.

He couldn't even feel your presence on Liyue's land.

Had something happened to you? What if you had been attacked by monsters? The thought terrified him. He thought of your sleeping face, so peaceful. He thought of the promise he had made to himself to protect you.

Your absence was as painful to him as the day Aether told him Rex Lapis was dead. He couldn't bear it.

Xiao vowed to find you again and if you accepted him, he would stay by your side, he would not run away again.

He would listen to you sing again.

He searched for you for seven long days, which was a real physical and psychological torture for him. Aether, worried about his friend, helped him in his search, informing Zhongli, Ganyu and Hu Tao of your disappearance and the state in which the follower was.

Xiao always carried one of the gifts you had given him, holding on to it in the hope of finding you safe and sound.

With his mask over his face and his spear in hand, he slaughtered every hilichurl camp, hoping to find some trace of you, something that would prove to him that you were still alive. Disappointment after disappointment, the anger and hatred grew inside him every day, struggling to control it. He was leaving behind a pool of blood, soon he would sink into madness, feeling the sting of the karmic chains that made him sink a little deeper. How could he have formed such a strong bond with someone that he lost control?

"Xiao, we're going to find her. "

Zhongli's reassuring hand rested on the follower's shoulder.

Xiao had not removed his mask, but the former Geo Archon could still see tears of pain flowing from his eyes. His hand moved from his shoulder to the top of the young man's head. He knew what Xiao was going through, after all he too had lost loved ones in the past.

A varnished lily flower suddenly appeared under Xiao's nose. Ganyu held it out to him with a thin smile on his face. The Yaksha, who had watched you for a long time, knew that this flower was your favourite, many times he had seen you studying it, drawing it, smelling it, admiring it...

He could clearly see your face beaming as you drew it, singing a Sumeru tune.

He slowly grasped the flower that the young woman was holding out to him with renewed hope.

You had been leaving Lisa for a few hours now, promising her and your new friends that you would return to see them soon. You were anxious to get to the Wangshu Inn to rest. You missed your friends in Liyue and the absence of the Yaksha warrior around you left your heart empty.

You knew that he was never far from you. You knew that at night he sometimes stroked your hair, thinking you were asleep. You knew how soft his eyes were when he watched you draw.

You knew that he loved to listen to you sing.

Your lips curled upwards, happy at the idea of finding his presence. For this occasion you had grabbed an anemo crystal core which you intended to offer his.

When you reached the border between Mondstadt and Liyue, the atmosphere suddenly seemed heavy. You could not hear the birds singing, nor the wind cradling the trees.

Time seemed to stand still.

Alerted, you quickened your pace, crossing the wooden bridge that separated you from the shore.

The sudden sound of a branch breaking made you jump. You looked towards the source of the noise, finding yourself face to face with a Brutorocheux chief surrounded by some Brutoshamans and common Brutocollinus.

Your voice and body trembled.

"Why are they here? There have never been so many monsters on the border..."

The Brutocollinus came forward, threatening, it screamed, the breath knocking you to the ground. The smaller ones stepped forward, weapons in hand, while the Brutoshamans chanted their incantations.

Fear froze you in place, you were not a warrior, far from it. Your pupils dilated with fear and shook as the Brutoshaman ran towards you, fist in the air, ready to crush you. By reflex you had grown brambles around you to protect yourself.

But the creature in front of you was of a geo nature, impervious to the little thorns in your plants. Your trembling hand rose before you, summoning a flower capable of projecting poison, but again the monster crushed your hopes as did the flower beneath its feet.

"As long as you are in Liyue, I will protect you. Call me and I'll be there in a second."

Fear choked you, tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you remembered the words of the man you loved.

Xiao.

The sight of his gentle smile as he looked at you, thinking you hadn't noticed his presence.

Xiao.

The tender look in his eyes as he listened to you singing hidden behind a tree.

Xiao...

His hands savouring the feel of your hair between his fingers as you slept.

"XIAO! "

The moment you shouted his name, a gust of wind swept through the area. Blows rained down before you, and the brutocollinus and brutoshamans were the first to perish.

There he was, leaping to an inhuman height, a mask hiding his face and a menacing black aura covering him completely. The spear he always carried with him was pointed at the enemy as the Yaksha fell violently to the ground, sending out anemo illusions from his weapon that skewered the creature. He repeated his move once more, shattering its shell, before finishing it off by charging it with extreme speed. The Brutorocheux fell heavily to the ground, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

Xiao moved his hand in front of his face, making his mask disappear, and then planted his spear on the ground. He ran towards you over the brambles you had created, not caring about the thorns that tore his legs. He knelt beside you, his eyes filled with terror and concern.

You looked into his eyes, shocked and trembling.

Finally you exploded, screaming and crying now that it was all over. You fell into his arms, your head resting in the crook of his neck, partially muffling your screams and tears.

He had found you. At last...

His heart broke free from its chains, relieved to see you safe and sound.

He felt as if his heart was going to burst out of his chest, so strong was it beating.

When he had reached you after your call and had seen you surrounded by monsters, monsters that were there because of him, because of the slaughter he had made in the camps of his creatures, the rage had risen in him. If you had been hurt because of him, he would never forgive himself.

He would never have forgiven himself.

He was surprised by your sudden embrace, not really knowing how he should react. What did humans do in such moments?

He raised his arms hesitantly, placing his hands gently on your back. Seeing that you didn't reject him, he hugged you a little tighter, soothing his soul and body with your warmth.

"Don't disappear again..."

His voice was husky, vibrant, emotion knotting his throat. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling the scent of the flowers that covered you.

"Xiao..."

Your tears continued to fall as your hands clutched at his clothes.

He surprised you by planting a kiss on your neck. He left his face hidden there, not wanting to be seen so vulnerable. His trembling hands around you were more than enough to describe the emotions that were currently running through him.

When your tears stopped, his hands gently grasped your shoulders, pulling you back to get a better look at your face. He wiped away the tears that remained on your cheeks before placing the palm of his hand on them, caressing you with his thumb. Your hand joined his, closing your eyes to savour the sensation.

His forehead came to rest against yours, exhaling a shaky breath.

The happiness of finally having her so close to you involuntarily activated your dendro vision. Varnished lily flowers bloomed around you, and firefly-like particles of light swirled near your faces.

"Stay close to me. Always. "

"Always. "

Xiao didn't know exactly what he was doing as he tilted his head to your lips. The only thing he knew was that he wanted this connection badly.

The bond between you was stronger than any contract, he loved you, by the archons, he loved you more than anyone else.

An emotion so human but so beautiful...

Your lips... tasted like a sweet dream.

Bonus n°1:

"Ah, there they are! "

Paimon yelled to his companions, pointing at you and Xiao. Zhongli was the first to arrive and observed the scene unfolding before his eyes.

"XIAO! "

Paimon shouted, his voice carrying to you. Xiao parted violently from your lips, falling on his butt in the process, his face completely red with embarrassment.

Aether, who had arrived just after Zhongli, grabbed the little fairy in his arms, planting his hand over her mouth to silence her. Hu Tao and Ganyu were waving at you, reassured that you were okay. Xiao had completely forgotten that they had come with them.

He knew that with that chatty fairy and Hu Tao not far away, the rest of the day was going to be hell for him. He wanted to grab you in his arms and run away from his troubles, but when his gaze turned to Zhongli's, his heart was suddenly lighter with a burden. The gentle smile of his master and the kindly gaze he projected upon him broke the last remaining chains of doubt within him.

Bonus #2:

Xiao had offered you on the way back the varnished Lily flower that Ganyu had given him earlier, hanging it in your hair. You walked behind your companions towards the Wangshu Inn, laughter and loud discussions (too loud for his taste) were going on.

Xiao stood very close to you without physically touching you. You never took your eyes off his face, which he noticed. He abruptly turned his head in the opposite direction, the tips of his ears glowing crimson, forcing an affectionate smile on your face.

After a few minutes of silent walking between the two of you, he finally asked you a question.

"Why did you leave? -He looked at you again, his eyes full of emotion-"I thought you were gone forever...or worse, dead. "

His voice trembled at the thought, making your eyes widen. In a comforting gesture, you grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. The gesture surprised him, he was not used to physical (or emotional!) contact.

"Didn't you read my letter? "

Xiao blinked, once, twice, three times.

"What letter? "

"The one I left on the table next to the tofu dish. "

Xiao's face became totally impassive. He tried to piece together a visual image of his room in his mind, seeing your dish on his table very clearly, but no matter how hard he concentrated, no letter came to him.

"There was no letter. "

"Oh... Maybe it was blown away then?"

Xiao remained silent as you explained that you had gone to see a friend in Mondstadt. He listened to you without really listening, an array of emotions passing through his eyes. He needed someone to blame, anyone he could vent his anger and frustration on.

The wind... The wind...

A malevolent smile spread across his face and his amber eyes glowed with a menacing gleam.

He brought his hand up to his face, a gesture he made to reveal his Yaksha mask.

His hoarse voice whispered dangerously:

"Barbatos..."

Further on, in Mondstadt, Venti felt a shiver run through his body, freezing him in place.

[countrymusiclover]

2 - Am I Crazy?

Part 3

A God Worthy Soulmate

@queenieala

"It was weird, Lizzie. One second he was there and then he was gone in a flash." I explained sitting outside an ice cream shop with hee near the old clock tower of Mystic Falls.

She raised a brow at my words taking a bite of her chocolate cone. "Hey, I mean we've been through weirder stuff than that."

Resting my chin in the palm of my hand I sighed heavily taking a bite of my pink ice cream seeing some people from Mystic Falls high coming over. I recognized one of them as the jock Connor that used to date Lizzie's enemy. "Well look at this. Little boarding school girls out for ice cream how cute."

"So was the mystery guy cute in your dreams?" Lizzie asked hoping to avoid the jerks.

"Nice jewelry. You sure someone like you should have it?" Whipping my head up to Comor he reaches forward holding the charm in between his fingers smirking.

Blinking my eyes I swore I heard the guys voice from my last night in my head. "I could easily smite these guys for you if you wished."

Conor reaches up pulling my hair so I would look him in the eye. "Hey, are you listening to me. You know what someone like you shouldn't get this." He reaches down about to take before I saw Ken's figure zoom behind him with a smirk.

"Give me the word when I come find you and he'll be gone." He declared where I gasped throwing my hands up blasting a fireball out.

Conor and his friends jumped backwards rolling on the ground trying to put out the burns that had reached their clothes. Lizzie got to her feet vamping in front Conor grabbing him by his shirt compelling him. "You'll forget what you saw. You tried to flirt with my friend but she turned you down. Now go on about your day." The boys got to their feet walking away saying nothing.

"Okay compulsion is cool." I ran up pating her on the back where she grinned my direction. She interviewed her hand with mine and we started walking home.

Looking over my shoulder I couldn't help but think my mind must be playing games on me. Holding the charm in my freehand I sucked in a breath somehow seeing Ken walking right behind us for a few seconds smiling at me. "Fear not, Clarisse Montana. You will not have people talk so low to you once we meet."

Being back at the school I entered my room reaching under my bed grabbing my sketchbook since Hope and I both enjoyed art. Resting it on my knees I just started drawing for a few hours until someone knocked on my door seeing it was Lizzie. She closed it behind her tilting her head. "What are you drawing, Clari?"

"Don't know just got inspired I suppose." Shrugging my shoulders I kept moving the pencil across the page until I stopped.

Lizzie scooted over laying her head on my shoulder eyeing the picture in confusion. "Woah...is this the guy you saw last night?"

"Yeah why?" I asked glancing over to her as she took it from my hands.

She turned the picture back to me so I could see that I drew his face in great detail. Normally when I just let the pencil go where it wanted anything I drew wasn't very good. "Because I know who this guy is. I leaned about him with Aurora. His name is Ken and he's supposed to be a God."

Raising my brows at her I couldn't really believe that God's apparently existed in our world. But I can't say that it can't happen considering we literally live where werewolves, vampires and witches are real. Staring at the picture I felt my eyes get heavy where Lizzie called my name before I passed out in her lap. "Clarisse!"

Opening my eyes I slowly sat up brushing my fingertips over blades of grass. The wind blowing through my hair where I flickered my gaxe around not seeing anything else around me but trees and an opened field. "Hello, Clarisse. Do you like this setting. I could create something like this for you in the future?" Whipping my head around I felt my face turn red seeing the Ken guy standing in front of me.

"Why is this happening to me. I must be losing my mind because you aren't real." I frantically got to my feet holding my hands up in front of me as a defense.

He slowly walks forward closing the gap between us. He reaches up tucking hair behind my ear resting his hand to my cheek. "You're not crazy, love. Can you feel my touch?"

"Then where are you?" I nodded my head yes locking eyes with him.

He leans forward kissing my forehead whispering my name then disappeared. "I'll come to you soon enough. And when we meet you shall rule by my side." Closing my eyes mu body fell into the grass and I woke back in my bed with Lizzie watching me sleep.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[scribblesforthemad]

There and Back Again - Part 6

Many, many thanks to @skyfall8600 whose excellent Sucked In series not only inspired this one, but brought me out of a years-long writing slump! The first few parts of this series are heavily inspired by her work, while diverging more significantly later on. Regardless, I wholeheartedly recommend her work, and thank her for allowing me to use a few of her excellent ideas!

series warnings: swearing, misogyny, canon-typical violence, fluff, insecurity; sfw but gets a little ~steamy~ in a couple places

part six warnings: swearing, anxiety

Your legs strained as you rode Steve’s bike behind Dustin, for once grateful for the cold February air. The Forrest Hills trailer park was only about a mile from Steve’s house, but on Steve’s too-big bike, it felt like more. When you finally reached the entrance, you wiped your brow on your sleeve and sighed, swinging your leg over the bike to walk it the rest of the way. Dustin copied your motions, leading the way to Eddie’s trailer.

It looked just as it had in the show—run-down, with peeling paint and a rusty handrail, but with an undeniable charm. The place looked lived-in, with muddy boots scattered around the door and a gentle swirl of steam rising from the furnace. You smiled to yourself, reminded of your childhood home—another place that was far from perfect, but which housed many treasured memories.

Leaving your bikes propped against the handrail, you followed Dustin as he scampered up the steps, knocking repeatedly on the door.

“Dustin!” you chastised him, pulling his hand back from the door. “He’ll think something’s up if you keep banging like that.”

Before Dustin had a chance to respond, the door swung open, revealing Eddie Munson in ratty sweatpants and his Hellfire tee, rubbing his eyes tiredly. You bit your lip, unable to take your eyes from his messy hair and sleepy expression.

“Henderson,” he said in a rumbling voice several notes lower than his usual tone. Your stomach flipped involuntarily. I am so screwed.

“Why in the fuck are you waking me up on a Saturday? This had better—” He stopped mid-sentence, noticing you behind his friend. “Y/N,” he said, straightening up and clearing his throat. “What can I do for you, m’lady?”

Dustin snorted in indignation.

“So for her its ‘what can I do for you,’ while I get ‘what the fuck?’ Figures,” he scoffed, shaking his head. Eddie shot him a deadly glare, warning him to shut his mouth before he really regretted it. You smiled to yourself, knowing the bond of true affection that lay beneath the banter.

“Dustin brought me over,” you interjected quickly. “I was wondering if you could show me some more of your campaign?”

Eddie’s eyes lit up, losing all trace of tiredness at your words.

“Seriously? I’d love to!” he said, a broad smile transforming his face. Your stomach clenched—god, how you loved that smile.

The three of you stood on the porch for an awkward moment until Dustin cleared his throat, and Eddie moved aside to let the two of you in.

“Uh, sorry about the mess,” Eddie said, hastily picking up discarded chip bags, beer cans, and cigarette butts. “Wasn’t expecting company.” He grinned lopsidedly at you, and you looked down at your feet, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Anyway, I’ll go get my notes,” he said, gesturing for the two of you to sit on the couch before dashing to his bedroom. You heard a faint strum of guitar strings from the other room and smiled. Eddie and his sweetheart.

The sound of snapping fingers drew your thoughts back to the living room. Dustin was waving his hand impatiently in front of your face, clearly trying to get your attention.

“Y/N,” he said, clearly annoyed. “End-of-the-world, remember? You and Eddie can make eyes at each other after we save Hawkins,” he said, rolling his eyes. You blushed.

“We were not making eyes,” you said defensively, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Besides, I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Dustin, clearly unimpressed. You bit the inside of your cheek, conflicted. Was he really looking at me? You wondered, then shook yourself. Dustin was right; you had more important things to worry about than your fanfiction fantasies. Focus on Vecna.

Eddie re-entered the living room, three overstuffed notebooks in hand. He flopped down cross-legged on the floor, spreading out the pages in front of you. You slid off the couch to join him, examining the documents with interest.

You caught your breath. Before you lay another world, straight from Eddie Munson’s imagination. There were hand-drawn maps, meticulously labeled with every city and mountain range; character sketches on the back of gas station receipts, notes and ideas scribbled in messy capitals, as if Eddie had tried to get them out onto the page as quickly as possible before they faded from his mind. You ran your thumb over one of the sketches, labeled “Eddie the Banished” in the same scrawled hand, smiling at the fighter’s detailed armor, sword, and shield.

Eddie held a lock of hair over his mouth, fiddling with it as he watched you examine his work.

“What do you think?” he asked after a few moments, voice muffled by his hair.

“I think it’s amazing,” you breathed, tracing a coastline on one of the maps with your finger. “Eddie, this is incredible.”

The smile he gave you could’ve shamed the sun with its brilliance.

Dustin leaned over from his seat on the couch, trying to catch a glimpse of the drawings and notes. Without looking up, Eddie lifted a hand and pushed Dustin back down in his seat.

“No cheating, Henderson,” he said, smirking. “These documents are eyes-only.” You chewed your lip. As much as you were enjoying being the exclusive focus of Eddie’s attentions, you really needed Dustin’s help to understand his notes on Vecna.

“Oh come on, Eddie,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. You couldn’t help but notice the goosebumps forming on his skin as you continued. “He brought me all the way out here so I could learn about being a DM. And he promises that he won’t use anything he learns to help him in the campaign. Don’t you, Dustin?” you asked, too loudly.

“Yes, yes,” he replied, wedging himself between you and Eddie to examine the documents. Your eyes met Eddie’s over Dustin’s shoulder, and you chuckled. “Really what we’re interested in is the lore surrounding Vecna,” the younger boy said, shuffling papers.

“Hold on, Henderson, you’re getting them all out of order,” Eddie protested, giving his friend a friendly smack on the back of his head.

“There’s an order?” you asked innocently, causing Eddie to shoot you a dirty look.

“Yes, there happens to be a method to my madness,” he said, rummaging to find what he was looking for. “Here,” he said, handing Dustin a thick stack of pages. “The full history, powers, and weaknesses of the entity known as Vecna, as well as his cultists.”

You nearly punched the air in triumph—this was exactly what you had been hoping for. Now, time to go through it.

*             *             *

Eight hours later, you sat on the floor with your back to Eddie’s couch, exhausted from so much reading and thinking. Dustin was sprawled out in an armchair, asleep, a half-empty bag of Cheetos at his side. Eddie was laid out on the couch behind you, mindlessly throwing a crumpled ball of paper and catching it over and over. You could feel a few of his errant curls fall against your shoulder, but you couldn’t say you minded.

You let out a long sigh, causing Eddie to pause his game of catch and sit up.

“I think I’ve learned all I can from this, at this point,” you said, gesturing to the piles of documents on the floor.

Eddie’s notes hadn’t held much in the way of ideas for defeating Vecna. In-game, the solution was simple: an enchanted sword acquired on a previous leg of the campaign that was impregnated with the essence of his own power. Somehow, you doubted there was a magic sword hidden in Hawkins, despite the crazy things that happened here.

“You sure?” Eddie asked. “You can take some of it with you, if you want,” he offered. A mischievous grin flitted across his face. “That is, as long as you promise to bring it back.”

You smiled, but your heart wasn’t in it; every minute you spent with Eddie you fell more in love with him, and more determined to keep him safe—and safe, for the moment, meant out of your life.

“I copied out the parts I need,” you said, holding up your own, much-neater notes. “Thanks, though.”

Eddie’s smile faltered, and he went to shake Dustin awake—gently, of course.

“Is Harrington coming to pick you guys up?” he asked quietly, after giving Dustin a moment to  wake up.

“Don’t know,” he said sleepily. “Need to call. Walkie.” Eddie chuckled.

“Alright, sleepyhead,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Y/N can call Harrington.” Smiling at the tender action, you picked up Dustin’s walkie-talkie and switched it to the proper channel.

“Steve, you there?” you asked, waiting for his response. “Dustin and I are here with Eddie,” you said quickly, before he revealed anything about the Upside Down. A loud crackle came over the walkie-talkie, and then the garbled voice of Steve Harrington.

“We’re here,” Steve said, though you could barely understand him. “Had to go to the university library for some of the medical journals. Won’t be back until late.” You cursed under your breath. Nancy and Robin had been walking door-to-door, so they couldn’t come get you, and with Steve so far away, it would be hours before Dustin could get home—and his curfew was fast approaching. You refused to let him bike home in the dark, even if you were with him—after what had happened to Will in season one, you wouldn’t risk it.

Eddie looked at you with sympathy, his warm brown eyes finding yours.

“You guys need a ride?” he asked softly. You bit your lip, trying to keep back the tears. Why is he so kind?

“If it’s not trouble,” you said, hating to impose on him further. “But please don’t worry if you can’t, we already took up your whole Saturday.”

Eddie gave you another easy smile, and you could feel your heart melting in your chest.

“Nah, today was great. One of the best I’ve had in a while, actually.” You shared a long look before he bounced to his feet, nudging Dustin a little more forcefully.

“Come on, Henderson,” he said. “Gotta get you guys home.”

“What about Y/N?” Dustin asked, still half-asleep. “She found someplace yet?”

Eddie frowned.

“Is…is she not staying with you?”

“Are you kidding, Mom would freak,” Dustin said, rubbing his eyes. Suddenly, he realized what he’d said. “Shit, I mean—”

“Come on, Dusty,” you interrupted, face red. “He’s just kidding,” you told Eddie quickly, slinging Dustin’s backpack over your shoulder.

You avoided Eddie’s gaze as you packed your bikes into the van, finally clambering into the passenger seat. The first few minutes passed in awkward silence.

“Why’d you lie?” Eddie asked quietly, not wanting Dustin to overhear. He didn’t look angry, just genuinely puzzled by your deception. You took a deep breath.

“We aren’t cousins, but I’m friends with the whole group,” you said, knowing it was time to come clean—at least, as much as you could. “Nancy, Robin, Steve, Lucas, Max—I don’t have anywhere to go right now, so they’ve been passing me around.” You could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Where on earth were you going to sleep?

“You run away?” Eddie asked, his voice unreadable.

“No,” you said, a pained chuckle escaping your lips. “Just kind of…ended up here.”

He nodded, his face clear from judgment.

“This town tends to do that.”

“Do what?” you asked, confused.

“Trap you. Suck you in and not let you go,” he said, grimacing. Your heart ached for him, knowing how much he craved escape—and knowing he would never find it. But he will, you reminded yourself, if I have anything to say about it.

A few quiet minutes later, he pulled up in front of the Henderson home, the porch light shining brightly in the darkened street. Dustin hastily collected his things and came to give you a hug goodbye. As you embraced, he whispered in your ear, “Are you gonna be alright?” You smiled at his concern—you really didn’t deserve such a good fake cousin.

“I’ll be alright,” you promised, though you had no idea if it was the truth. You squeezed him tightly, then watched with a fond expression as he climbed the stairs up to his porch. Eddie watched until he was safely inside before turning to you, nudging your shoulder with his own.

“My uncle is working overnight, so he won’t be home until tomorrow—there’s nobody else you’d need to lie to, so you’re welcome to stay with me if you want.” 

Oh, fucking hell.

Your glassy eyes met his in the pale moonlight, then nodded almost imperceptibly, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Okay then,” Eddie said, squeezing your hand gently. Your skin tingled at his touch. “Let’s go home.”

[mochegato]

I Can’t Fight This Feeling

Chapter 3

Chapter 1     Chapter 2

He just came here for a fucking break.  Somewhere none of the people he normally works with would be caught dead.  Which is the only reason he was in an art museum right now.  Because Black Mask aside, none of Gotham’s rogues or henchmen had the slightest interest in art and Black Mask would never deign to be in the presence of Gotham’s unwashed masses.

So here, this place, it was a safe haven.  A relaxing place.  A place where he could let his mind wander and his guard down, as much as you could anywhere in Gotham.  It had absolutely nothing to do with the painting of a dark haired, blue eyed woman glancing hopefully into the distance that he had been staring at for the last hour, the same painting he ended up in front of every time he visited.

But his peaceful reprieve was being intruded upon.  He couldn’t see the person, but he could feel their eyes boring into him.  They’ve been on him for at least the last ten minutes.  That meant it was more than just someone who wanted to hit on him. They would have made their move already. He would give them five more minutes to move on before he acted, but he could feel his rage rising with each passing second.  

After another five minutes, he rounded on them, ready to threaten them until they regretted even breathing in the same building as him.  “What are you fucking…” he hissed out, but his anger dissipated when he was met with the same blue eyes that had consumed his mind for the last hour. Or rather, if he were being honest, for the last three years.  “…looking… at.”

“Oh, sorry,” her eyes widened in surprise before she looked away awkwardly. “That must have seemed so creepy. It’s just… you look so familiar?  I could swear I know you from somewhere.” Her eyes returned to his, searching them for familiarity.

He stared at her wide eyed.  She couldn’t be here.  Why would she be here… in Gotham.  She didn’t belong in Gotham.  She was supposed to stay in Paris where it was safe, now that Hawkmoth was gone and the League couldn’t track her, where she could stay innocent.  “Marinette,” he breathed out.  

She gave him a brilliant smile and let out a relieved breath.  “Oh good.  You do know me.”  She laughed nervously.  “I’ve never remembered anyone from that time before.  And it has to be from that time, right?  Otherwise I’d remember how I know you.”

“What are you doing here?”  He continued to stare at her still in a haze.  She had somehow gotten even more beautiful in the last few years, her eyes brighter.  God, they had always been mesmerizing, but now they were positively hypnotic.  Maybe that had more to do with getting away from the Hawkmoth situation, being free again, not bogged down by the responsibility of protecting millions of people as a child, being in a whole new time in her life.  He was so lost in thought, it took a second for her words to register.  “What do you mean ‘that time’?”

“I was looking for a little design inspiration.”  Her voice was unsteady, slightly shaking.  She tapped her fingers together nervously.  “I have, um… a commission I need to figure out and homework and I have no idea what to do for the homework.  The direction was so vague or maybe it wasn’t and it’s just me.  It’s just not something that registers with me, you know.”  Her voice became stronger as she babbled.  “Like, I can design a thousand dresses based on a flower, or the rain, or a building, but design based on a heart?  I can’t do it.  Ask for something based on a star?  I got it. A circle?  Hundreds of designs.  A square?  Got that too. Even a triangle would be fun.  But a heart?  So cliché.”

“I meant,” he interrupted harsher than he intended to.  He let his voice soften.  “What are you doing in Gotham?”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment.  “I go to school here.  My best friend and I moved here last year for school.  I go for design.  He wants to be a teacher.”

“In Gotham?” he asked incredulously.  “Of all the places you could have gone, why Gotham?”

She tilted her head to the side in consideration, weighing her words carefully. It was the first time since they started talking that her body seemed to relax.  He studied her body language a bit more.  No, not relax, slump.  Her shoulders slumped as she thought of the reason that brought her here.  “Because Gotham doesn’t judge,” she answered quietly. “Because you can just disappear in Gotham.  No matter your past, as long as you aren’t actively trying to hurt them, nobody cares. There’s no hostile looks, no glares, no thinly veiled insults or completely unveiled insults.  You can just be.”

Jason’s heart clenched and his anger started to build.  He took a step closer to her.  “Why was that important to you?  Who was looking at you like that?”  He kept his voice even and calm, but he was sure his eyes were starting to show hues of green edging in.

She shook her head and looked down.  “Not me.  My best friend.  He tried moving to London and New York, but it just… seemed to follow him everywhere he went.  I mean he still had all his friends but… they started getting into trouble too because they were getting into fights defending him and… yeah.  So we applied to transfer here and both got accepted to our different schools.”

He nodded in understanding.  That seemed like something she would do; uproot her entire life for a friend.  “Gotham is good like that.  They let you rebuild yourself.  We’ve seen too much pain to judge too much.”  He looked away for a few seconds before he realized something.  “You never answered the second question.  What did you mean ‘that time’?”

“Oh… um…” she looked away awkwardly again and shuffled her feet a few times. “I have amnesia?  I lost a few years of my life a few years ago.”

“Amnesia?”

“Yeah, it was super weird.  I wasn’t even in an accident.  No physical injuries.  Just memory loss.”  She was rubbing the back of her neck and looking up at him sideways as she spoke.

He stared at her for a few more seconds.  That made no sense.  Why would she lose her memories like that?  The League could have done something, he supposed.  But if the League had been involved, she’d be dead. So it must be something else, something related to the miraculous was most likely.  A few years ago would put it right around when Hawkmoth was caught and Ladybug and the other miraculous heroes disappeared.

His eyes flicked to her ears.  She wasn’t wearing earrings.  She wasn’t wearing her miraculous.  He reached up toward her ears where they should be, but realized a few centimeters from her what he was doing and pulled back his hand like he’d been stung.  She lost being a hero.  Could the miraculous really do that?  Remove any parts of a memory that related to the miraculous?

“Um, speaking of losing things.  I don’t remember your name,” she prodded shyly.

“Jason.  Jason Todd,” he answered, still somewhat in a daze, still focused on her ears.  

She smiled at the answer, but her lips quickly turned down into a slight frown. The shift caused his hear to stutter. Why was she frowning?  Did his name bring back who he was?  No, that couldn’t be it.  She never knew his name.  So why the frown?  Did she… had she heard of him?  Was she disappointed in him?  Was she scared of him?  Was she aghast at the approach he took to cleaning up Gotham?

The thought pressed against his chest like a vice.  Every decision he’d made since he left her in that park had been touched by her.  Would she approve?  Would she understand?  It didn’t change how he acted… usually.  He still did what he needed to do, what needed to be done.  But the thought was still there.  Would she think he was the evil villain he tried so hard to be?  He knew she would be disappointed, but seeing it reflected on her face was something else.  He steeled himself and rolled his shoulders in false nonchalance. He gave her a forcefully charming smile. “What’s the matter, don’t like the name?”

She quirked her head to the side as she watched him.  Jason braced himself for whatever her next words were going to be. They had to be how disappointed she was in him, right?  Disappointed in what he became.  “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just disappointed.”  

Jason drew in a breath.  There it was. The reaction he was expecting. Even though he knew it was coming it still hurt more than he thought it would.  Why was he letting this person he didn’t even know affect him, damn it! She didn’t even know him.  She had no right!  He tried to meet her eyes so he could deliver a devastating glare, but she was staring ahead blankly.  His eyes softened involuntarily.  That’s why it hurt.  Because she was the best person he’d met, the most forgiving, and if even she thought he was disappointing, he must really be.

“I don’t remember your name,” she continued, oblivious to his reaction.  She looked back up at him with an adorable pout on her soft, pink lips.  “I was so excited that seeing you sparked something.  I guess I was hoping your name might help recover more memories. But my head, you know?”  She tapped her head with her knuckles gently.

Jason gaped at her.  She was disappointed in herself?  Not him? “No!” he cried louder than he meant to, he just couldn’t let her think this was her fault when it had to be some kind of magic.  “You never… you didn’t know my name.  And, I’ve known lots of people with amnesia.  Living in Gotham, people get their heads rattled or hit frequently. Memories are hard.  They don’t come back the way you would think they do. Sometimes they don’t ever come back at all.”

She scrunched her face in confusion.  Her lips turned down sadly.  “But… you knew my name.  And I remember you.”

Jason opened his mouth to try some kind of explanation.  He snapped his mouth shut.  What could he say?  How was he supposed to explain how he knew her?  This is where his years of training in bullshit and condescension would come in handy.  Except he didn’t want to be condescending with her, so just bullshit then.  He sighed heavily.  But he didn’t want to lie to her either, not to her.  She was the one good thing he’d done since the Pits. Helping her was his one saving grace.  “We… we weren’t friends.  We weren’t close.  I honestly have no idea why you would remember me.  I wasn’t a good person.  You knew that.”

She stared at him in surprise.  Her brows furrowed in thought, but she stayed quiet as if waiting for him to elaborate. He opened his mouth again, but snapped it shut again quickly when the sound of gunfire echoed through the museum. Jason’s head immediately snapped to the sound and he moved before he realized it to put himself between Marinette and the doorway.

Marinette sighed at the shots.  Jason whipped around to look at her.  A sigh is definitely not the response he was expecting.  It was not the normal response.  That was much closer to an emotionally damaged response, a tired of life response, a response he had tried to save her from having.  Granted his reaction wasn’t normal either, but he knew why he reacted the way he did.

She shrugged.  “The Walker Emerald,” she explained.  “It’s in the Ancient Art exhibit.”  When he still looked confused, she continued.  “It’s an Incan artifact.  They used emeralds in some of their works.  The Walker Emerald is the largest emerald they’ve found in excavations.  It’s held in place by a solid gold setting.  It’s huge.  They named it for the archaeologist that discovered it.  What bullshit is that?” she grumbled, seeming more upset by that than the gunfire.  “I stayed away from here for weeks after they opened the exhibit because I figured this would happen.  But I thought it would have happened earlier. Guess they were waiting for people to put their guard down and it worked.  I did.”

Jason moved to the doorway and peeked around the corner.  “But why now?  Why during the day when there would be people here?”

“Because security at night is a lot worse for it,” Marinette said as she peeked out next to him.  He grabbed her and pulled her back into the room behind him.  “Just my luck they would do it when I finally visited again.”  She tried to move to the doorway again but Jason pulled her back again with a scowl, moving them further from the door.  She really had no self-preservation instincts.  She rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight him, instead slumping into his side to wait for everything to blow over.  “If you remember me, then you probably already know how bad my luck is.”

He barked out a laugh at the irony.  He stopped immediately when they heard more gunfire and someone behind them call out. Marinette peeked past him again.  She cursed quietly and took off running.  Jason cursed loudly and ran to the doorway just in time to see Marinette slide into the feet of one of the goons, knocking him off his feet and into the goon next to him, knocking him down as well. Before the second guy landed, she’d jumped back up and swept a little boy who had been in their path off his feet. Fuck!  She was still acting like a hero, but without the suit or magic to help her.  

He groaned to himself.  Bad luck his ass.  That was either extreme skill or luck… or both.  But considering she hadn’t thought to follow it up by making sure they couldn’t follow her, if it was skill, it was subconscious remnants of her time as a hero, not something she could pull on at will.  And she probably hadn’t intentionally trained to be able to defend herself, because she didn’t remember being a hero, so why would she.  Which meant she had no self-preservation skills.  She was acting purely on her emotions.  She was going to get herself killed with her good heart. Where was her friend who came here with her?  Why weren’t they protecting her?  Somebody had to, since she clearly wasn’t going to do it herself.

He moved before he thought too hard about it.  The goons were already standing up, guns out and cocked, and had their eyes trained on the statue’s pedestal she was hiding behind.  He punched one in the temple, knocking him out immediately, and grabbed the gun from his hand as he fell.  He pointed the gun at the goon and was about to pull the trigger when he heard the gasp behind him.  He heard Marinette quickly fussing over the kid and telling him not to look. He groaned silently and tightened his grip on the gun.  He couldn’t kill him in front of the kid… or Marinette.  

He motioned to the gun in the goon’s hand and held his hand out.  “You know who I am, yeah?”  The goon nodded slowly.  “Give me your gun and get the fuck out of here and I won’t come after you.”  The goon dropped his gun and backed away, never turning his back on Jason until he was out of the room and rapid footfalls could be heard.

Jason took a breath and slowly let it out to calm himself before moving to Marinette’s truly terrible hiding spot.  He silently reached out for her hand to help her stand and escorted her and the kid back into the room they had been in.  The kid immediately perked up and reached out for a woman in the corner with two other kids.  She thanked Marinette and him with tears running down her face, clutching to the boy like a lifeline before bringing him back to the other two kids and holding them all the same way.

Jason yanked Marinette into his chest and wrapped his arms around her.  He watched the door for any indication they were going to send more goons after them.  After a few seconds he pulled away just enough to look at her.  “Stop doing that!” he whisper yelled.  He pulled them into the corner where they were at least partially hidden by marble statues.  “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“You ran after me,” she pointed out with a roll of her eyes.  “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I… you…” he scowled at her.  He opened his mouth to lecture her more articulately, but snapped it shut again. “Let’s get you somewhere safer,” he gritted out.

She shook her head.  “I’m not leaving them and I already feel safe.  I feel safe with you.  I trust you.”  Jason scoffed at her.  How was she still alive?  Why was her friend not watching her at all times if she was this trusting and bad at judging people?  “I remember you.  You’re the only thing I’ve remembered.  That must mean you were important to me.  You wouldn’t have been important unless you did something I thought was significant. So that means I thought I could trust you.  And I trust myself that I can trust you.”  She smiled confidently at him.

Jason groaned and motioned to himself.  “Do I look like someone you can trust?” he exclaimed as loudly as he felt he could safely.  He may not be in his Red Hood suit right then, but he was definitely dressed in mob boss chic, designed to emanate a powerful asshole vibe and cultivate fear and respect.  

She kept her eyes focused entirely on his, not bothering to take in his carefully crafted vibe. Just staring at his eyes, staring into his soul, and seeking out that part of him that he thought had died years ago. That part the League had trained out of him.  The part the Joker had beaten out of him.  “Yes,” she said immediately and confidently.

He stared at her blankly.  Why would she trust him?  He was untrustworthy.  He was a killer.  He was brutal.  He had cultivated that reputation.  It was well deserved.  Hell, he’d attacked her.  And yet here she was, looking up at him with those big, bright, trusting, blue eyes.  “Okay.” He swallowed hard.  Those blue eyes were more deadly than half the rogues in Gotham.  Those blue eyes could get him to do things nobody else had ever been able to.  

It only took half an hour for the police to clear the museum and let them back out on the street, likely because some of them had been in on the heist in the first place.  It felt strange and unsettling to wait for the police instead of acting.  His skin itched to act in a way other than decking the officer that had been staring at him with distain since he came to tell them they could leave.

He escorted Marinette and the small family to the sidewalk outside and stuck next to them to make sure the police didn’t harass them.  He was determinedly not looking at Marinette, but he could feel her staring at him again.  When he finally looked over at her, he lost his breath for a second.  She was staring at him with such adoration and respect, his lungs couldn’t function correctly.  Jason frowned.  “You've got to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I'm a hero,” he groused.  “I don’t deserve it.  I haven’t earned it.  I’m not a hero.”

Marinette blinked at him a few times and cocked her head to the side curiously.  She smiled sweetly at him.  It seemed vastly out of place considering the situation they were in and yet perfectly in place on her lips.  “You’re that kid’s hero.  And that mom’s… and mine.”

Jason stared back at her breathlessly.  “Look… you don’t remember me.  If you did…  I’m… It’s dangerous to be around me.  I’m dangerous to be around.  You shouldn't be seen with me. It's dangerous for you to even talk to me.”  She smiled softly at him.  “And why are you smiling?  I just told you to go away.”

Her smile got brighter his indignation.  “Because if you were as evil as you seem so intent on convincing me you are, you wouldn't care.  But you do, so you're not.  So I was right.”

“Pixie, you have no idea how hard I worked on my reputation, what I’ve done to deserve it.”

Marinette nodded in faux seriousness.  “Right.  Terrible person that almost died protecting a kid he never met and would do it again in a heartbeat and stayed with us to make sure we were safe.”

“Who intimidated the henchmen out of harming us, because they knew what I could do, because they knew I’m not a good guy.”

Marinette laughed.  She had the audacity to laugh at him.  He was one of the leading crime bosses in the city.  “Oh yeah, okay, Wreck it Ralph.  Whatever you say.  I bet you jaywalk and everything.”

“I do!” he exclaimed throwing his arms out in exasperation.  “I’m going to do it again when I leave here.”  She laughed harder at him.  He stopped and thought about what he just said.  “No.  I mean…”

“Truly terrifying,” she agreed, cutting off his objections, still mocking his seriousness.

Jason hung his head in defeat.  His head snapped up when he heard the batmobile arrive. “And you are safe now.  But, I have to go.”  His eyes stayed on the batmobile, analyzing the threat to him.

“Now?”

He looked back at her with a wry smile.  “Batman and I don’t get along so well.  That should tell you something.”

“It tells me even heroes make mistakes,” she said defiantly.

Jason let out a long suffering sigh, but nodded. “Stay safe, Marinette.”

“Will I see you again?”  Her eyes were brimming with hope, but her voice was fragile.  She tucked a piece of her hair that had come undone while they were escaping behind her ear. Jason’s eyes traced her hand as it moved.  

He hated to kill that in her, but he couldn’t allow her to be in his life.  He couldn’t bring her down like that.  He couldn’t see her again and he couldn’t lie to her.  He opened his mouth to answer her, but got a reprieve. “Marinette!”  She hadn’t bothered to look at the source of the call, keeping her eyes on Jason.  But, the eye contact was broken when she was tackled by a blonde man.  “I came as soon as I saw!  Are you okay?”

Jason disappeared into the crowd before she recovered from the onslaught.  No matter what she believed, he wasn’t good and he wouldn’t be good for her.  He vowed to himself that he wouldn’t look for her. He wouldn’t follow her.  He wouldn’t give any rogues or henchmen in Gotham any indication that she was special to him.  He would protect her in any way that didn’t make her a target.  He gave one last look over his shoulder just catching a last glimpse of her searching the crowd.  He turned away and continued forward.

Chapter 4

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @jayjayspixiepop @aespades @how-to-function-properly @pawsitivelymiraculous @maribatserver

[starsinmylatte]

Tease (1/2)

Reader is fed up with the lack of attention from a certain Grand Admiral. To force his hand, she decides to send some pictures to tempt him while he's away, but things don't quite go as they were planned.

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags/warnings (for part 1): lingerie, m@sturbation, slight dom/sub undertones

AO3 link here

Author’s note: Here’s the smut I promised! I’ll either post the second chapter tonight, or a different smut prompt partially inspired by @pala-din-djarin ;)

Let me know if you enjoyed it <3

Ch’eo ch’itiseb- my sweet

In the beginning, the plan was to tease your lover ever-so-slightly. Grand Admiral Thrawn had been away from the Chimaera for a week, and you were in no mood to be the last person in line for attention upon his return. Sady, Thrawn had been so busy the week before his departure that he had very little time to spend with you.

As a Commander, you, of course, had your own duties to attend to in his absence, but there was no denying you missed his touch a little more than usual during the unrelentingly long week. It was more than understandable for Thrawn to be busy; he was a Grand Admiral, after all, but it couldn’t hurt for you to remind him exactly what he was missing……

You would never do anything to jeopardize his ongoing mission. Still, he was just on Coruscant visiting the Imperial Palace, and you weren’t exactly above sending some choice pictures to him through an encrypted communication line. Did you know exactly what you were doing by putting on the fine, lacy lingerie he had gifted you but never got the chance to see? Absolutely, but then again… that was the whole point. You wanted him to feel exactly as desperate for you as you did for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you slipped the final stocking into place, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection in the mirror.

Ah, this should do nicely.

Red, lacy lingerie, which perfectly matched the shade of your lover’s eyes, trailed across your skin like flames. The bralette was mostly sheer, but it offered the perfect amount of support and framed your décolletage in a way you knew Thrawn would find delectable. The matching panties hugged your hips and were partially hidden below a thin belt made from the same lace, which circled your waist and connected to the stockings in the front and back.

You laughed mischievously as you turned to see how the outfit looked from the side reflection in the large mirror, “Oh, this should definitely work well.”

The stockings themselves rested perfectly on the soft swell of your upper thighs, a place you knew Thrawn loved to kiss and mark as his, and they framed your ass beautifully. You were beyond resplendent, a piece of art that he couldn’t have, and you were going to use it to tease him as much as possible. However, if you were actually going to do some real damage, the pictures needed to be convincing.

“What better way to make this authentic than to do it in his bed,” you mused out loud. Fortunately, the datapad could both take and encrypt the pictures, so all you had to do was prop it up on the bedside table and set the photo timer.

The setup was fairly easy for the first few pictures, but all your ideas for poses were running out before long. Then, another exciting thought crossed your mind.

I’ll just set it to video! I can freeze and save sections of it as the pictures; that’ll be absolutely perfect.

You reached up and set the datapad to the necessary specifications before returning to the edge of Thrawn’s bed. Taking the pictures had been building sensual anticipation under your skin, and it went straight to your core as you imagined your lover’s reaction to them. Just the thought of Thrawn, breathless with want and worlds away from having his hands on you…. Well, it was more than enough encouragement for you to hit the record button on the datapad.

The silken black sheets on his bed caressed your soft skin and added another layer of sensation to your already stimulated mind as you lay back down among them. You took a deep, tentative breath in; Thrawn’s intensely masculine scent seemed to be everywhere. It completely surrounded you, drawing you further into the seductive depths of your mind and triggered vivid memories of all the ways he’d taken you on top of them.

One such memory was his powerful form pressing your back deep into the sheets, fucking you at a relentless pace, and worrying the tender skin of your neck with his teeth. Another was of Thrawn bending you over the edge of the bed, pinning you in place with his strong arms as he ravished you from behind, all while whispering filthy sentiments in Cheunh into your ear. Finally, your memory turned to his head dipping between your thighs to drink you in as he drew his true name from your lips like a prayer to some forgotten god….

You glanced to the side, and the mirror on the opposite wall showed a glimpse of just how beautiful you looked, displayed like a prized possession in the middle of his bed. No extra persuasion was needed for you to begin trailing your hands slowly and sensually over your curves. You lightly traced down the bothersome seams of the lingerie, following the path Thrawn’s own hands would’ve taken, before resting one hand at the apex of your thighs and placing the other on the ample swell of your breast.

By this point, the self-sufficient, capable Commander of the Chimaera was all but gone. Your breathing was ragged with desire and coming in short bursts; you would’ve willingly torn the world apart if it meant Thrawn could be in the room. It was all too much. Thought of him, his scent, his imaginary voice in your ear commanding your every move … Your cunt absolutely throbbed with desire. Arousal pooled between your legs, soaking through the lacy fabric and drawing a needy groan from your lips. With a gaze half-lidded and hazy from lust, your head lolled to stare directly into the camera, and you pleaded like it would bring him to bed, “ Thrawn….. please….”

You were so far gone that you hadn’t even noticed your hands were moving of their own volition. At the utterance of his name, two fingers pushed aside the interfering fabric and slipped deep inside your cunt; the other hand pinched down hard on a peaked nipple. Your back bowed off the bed, and stars danced behind your eyes as a broken moan fell from your mouth.

At this point, heady lust had completely taken over. Gasps and cries of pleasure rang out in the silent room as your fingers moved to circle your clit, driving you closer and closer to a shattering climax. You screamed Thrawn’s name when you came, digging your fingers deep into the sheets and searching desperately for stability as the intense orgasm rocked your body.

You stopped the recording on the datapad and laid still for what felt like an eternity as you tried to regain your senses. Finally, you were recovered enough to actually retrieve the datapad from the bedside table. The screen had gone dark, but when you brought the device back to life, something wasn’t quite right; the video was nowhere to be found.

As you checked through all of the possible places it could be, your stomach did a flip as you finally realized what had happened. The video was set to send automatically after it was filmed, so when you hit stop……

One quick glance at the message history confirmed your theory. However, you were so much more preoccupied with the flashing notification button. With a trembling finger, you clicked on it, and an audio file popped up. Thrawn’s voice, usually so soft and collected, was now heavily accented and barely concealing a feral tone, “Ch’eo ch’itiseb, you know you really shouldn’t tease me like this.” He sounded ready to eat you alive.

Sith hells, you were in trouble.

Tagging some friends: @handbaskethell @mittheresabosen @pala-din-djarin @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @bluecynadi

[pascalpanic]

Stubborn (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

Summary: Din Djarin is a difficult man, and well, you’re just as difficult. To your surprise, the stone wall of a man might have some weaknesses too: one of them might happen to be you.

WC: 1.7k

Warnings: some cussing

A/N: This was written as part of an art swap for a friend of mine! Reader is heavily inspired by her, but gender neutral- Miki, if you’re reading this, I love youuuu <3 Follow her on instagram @miknickles, she’s a FANTASTIC artist!

You were starting to fall in love with him, you had to admit to yourself, and you hated it. You might be too hardened for love, you thought, even if you knew hardened was one word that more aptly fit the Mandalorian you worked with. His steely exterior was perpetuated by few words and his imposing physicality. He was scary, you acknowledged, when he wanted to be. Your hardness was far different; you were a warrior too, growing up on a harsh planet with harsh citizens and a harsh family. Your hardness was made of your resilience, not your fear-striking abilities. The two of you were similar: hard-headed, intelligent, committed, and damn if you both weren’t stubborn. Stubborn is one word commonly tossed around on the Razor Crest, used to describe you and Mando- Din, you catch yourself, he had told you his name- and the little green baby who lived with the two of you. Stubbornness was what drew Din to you when you first met, repairing droids in the hangar of a local port. Your obstinance was what convinced him that you could hold your own on the Crest when he’s off hunting a bounty, that you could tame the equally stubborn child he had taken into his care.

Pushing aside the revolting emotions curling inside you, you bite your lip and spit out a cuss as a spark flies between two wires you attempt to connect. “Careful, cyare. Little ears are listening,” teases Din from above you, holding the little green child that put you in this very situation.

“Shut it, tin can,” you grumble from your crouched position in the wiring console. “The brain between those little ears is exactly what caused this.” You shoot the baby a teasing glare, and the green being giggles in response, causing a smile to light up your face. “Yeah you, you little womp rat,” you tell him with a teasing snarl, scrunching your nose in pretend anger. That earns another giggle from the kid and the snarl falls, leaving you smiling. “I can’t stay mad at you,” you coo at the baby before turning back to the wiring. “Well, Mr. Djarin,” you drawl, appreciating the intimacy of finally using his name, “did you have something to say or did you come to stare at me?” You ask drily, focusing on the pieces in your hands. 

Din shakes his beskar-covered head. “I came to ask if you needed help, and clearly you do. One more spark like that and you’ll make this whole ship burst into flames.” “I don’t need help. Maybe the ship’s so flammable because this thing is a piece of junk,” you retort back, looking up at him again and holding back a smile by biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s the only pre-imperial ship that hasn’t become a fireball by now.” “It can’t be such a piece of junk if it’s still running,” he fires back, setting down the baby and scooting into the wiring console before squatting down next to you. “Let me help you, mesh’la,” the Mandalorian man offers, grabbing one of the various tools scattered around the floor.

“No. I have this under control. I’m almost done anyway,” you tell him, picking up the tape and ripping off a piece with your teeth.

 “Need I remind you that the Crest has been mine for longer? Maybe you’re better suited to droids,” he says, playful yet stoic as he takes the wires from your hands and applies the tape to fix them together.

You scowl at him and then start fiddling with a filament implanted in the wall, letting him deal with those wires. “If that was true, I could’ve and would’ve hit your reset button a long time ago. Leave me alone, I can do this on my own, Mando,” you turn to him with a playful fire in your eyes.

He shakes his head again under the helmet, bending and picking something else up. “We both know that isn’t true. I’m helping you and you’re going to like it.”

“Aw, you almost made me think there’s a human under that beskar,” you taunt, raising your eyebrows at him and challenging, rapping on the beskar of his chest with a closed fist’s knuckles. “Nope, it’s empty,” you say with a mocking frown.

Smacking your hand away, Din almost laughs through the helmet, the quiet sound he makes too low to pass through the voice filter. “I could say the same about you, cyar’ika.”

“I’m fully human, Mando, all flesh and blood,” you say in a jokingly seductive voice, pouting in a flirtatious way at him. Just like always, you remind yourself, this is just normal flirtation between two friends. As you think about what he just said, you look at his helmet, studying the curves and sharp lines chiseled into the indestructible metal. “When are you going to tell me what all these goddamn Mando’a words mean?” You ask suddenly, curiosity getting the better of you, turning to him and looking him right in the eyes through the visor of his mask. You’ve asked many times, and he always deflects it, giving either a bullshit answer or making something up to chide you.

It always amazes him how you can always find his eyes under the helmet. No one else has ever been able to always see right into his soul, through the beskar and everything, when they look at him. He turns his face away from yours, the direct eye contact too intense even though he knows you can’t see his eyes. “When you stop being so damn stubborn and let me help you.”

“Maker, Din,” you groan and continue to look at him. “You’re really trying to call me the stubborn one? You won’t even take off the helmet when I promise not to look. You won’t tell me about your life, you hide everything about yourself from me even though I tell you all of it. The only damn thing I know about you is your name. You never let me come on a hunt, even after I prove my aptitude to you.” You unintentionally start venting your frustrations with him, angrily ratcheting a bolt into the control panel to hold something else in place. “And yet you still like to call me the stubborn one,” you grunt with a particularly hard push on the wrench. 

The honesty of the words takes Din back for a moment. He didn’t expect you to actually criticize him, only be playfully harsh as the banter between the two of you normally is. The words sink in and he gives a soft nod. “Maybe I am stubborn,” he sighs and stands, leaving you to it.

It surprises you that he left that easily, and that he almost seemed like he had shown his emotion. It was rare that he gave anything away. “Wait, Din,” you call and sigh as you stand, shimmying out of the wiring space hidden in the wall. He’s already walking away, dramatic as always, and climbing up to the cockpit. You follow after him, climbing up and standing behind his chair, daring to rest a hand on each of the beskar pauldrons covering his shoulders. “Din,” you say, somewhat sharp, needing his attention back on you. He spins in his chair and you remove your hands, bringing them to rest on your hips. “That’s new, you listened,” you mutter to him. 

“Do you really want to know about me, cyar’ika?” He asks you, a hand reaching out and taking one that hangs at your side. After a beat of silence, you nod and he pulls you to him, setting you on his lap and continuing to hold your hand. “Well, then I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me what those words in Mando’a mean first,” you ask him, tilting your head and looking down at the black line carved into his mask, where his eyes are hidden.

He sighs and you can feel it in his chest, which your shoulder leans against. “Cyare means beloved. Cyar’ika means... something like sweetheart.” Your heart flutters in your chest. It’s hard to believe he’s been calling you these things the whole time and you had no clue, his brazen flirting in his native tongue being indecipherable to you. He takes a deep breath. “Mesh’la means beautiful,” he admits, voice lowering softly.

The butterflies in your chest have moved to your stomach, settling there and fluttering aggressively enough to cause a hurricane. Your natural coping mechanism comes out again, as always. “Aw, you mean it?” you ask teasingly, moving a hand to the side of his beskar helmet. 

He’s baring his emotions now, so he might as well continue, he figures. “I do,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper as it comes out of the modulator.

You’re taken aback, truly. Your mouth opens softly to say something else, but you stop, biting your lip and looking away from him. You turn back, a smile falling across your face. “I have to admit. I’ve never seen your face, but I think you’re beautiful too, Din Djarin,” you say, voice soft, and press a kiss to the beskar, exactly where his forehead rests beneath it. His breath hitches for a moment and the smile widens a little. “I like you, Din. A lot,” you admit, hand moving to his arm and gently rubbing the space between the beskar armor.

“I like you too, mesh’la,” he breathes out, a hand coming to your waist. “In fact, I absolutely adore you.” He brings you into a keldabe kiss, his forehead meeting yours with the layer of armor between them. It’s the most intimate gesture he can give while in armor, you’re fully aware, and it makes the butterflies scatter all over your body, making you absolutely tingle with the appreciation the Mandalorian’s voice held for you. 

“Din,” you ask softly, breaking your face away from his and smiling gently down at him. He cocks his head in response, waiting for the question that’s sure to follow. “What do you look like under this?” you ask, caressing the cheek of his helmet with your fingertips. 

He chuckles, a low rumble through the modulator. “You can find out when you stop being so damn stubborn, cyare.”