#nightmare believes in his own bullshit enough for this to work

[stellocchia]

AU where, after escaping Nightmare and settling down with Color, Delta, and Epic, Killer starts feeling watched. Every moment of every day he can swear there is somebody looking at him.

He looks out into the crowd and keeps spotting a familiar cyan eye, but when he goes to show his friends there is nothing but the normal crowd of monsters around them. He swears to them that he's not making it up but, well, his mind isn't the most reliable. His memory isn't either. And the stress that comes from starting over and escaping an abusive situation certainly isn't making his paranoia better.

Sometimes he notices a monster leaving, and then, a few minutes later, that same monster comes from the opposite direction. He points that out to them, but they never seem to spot the discrepancies. They insist that it's nothing. Plenty of monsters look similar. Hell, with the whole Multiverse madness, a ton of folks look the exact same!

Sometimes he feels a cold brush against his bones as he's walking in crowded spaces. It could be mistaken for something accidental, but he knows better. Sometimes, it even inches close to his soul. Never touching it, but always close enough to feel uncomfortably familiar. His friends agree that that's inappropriate and they try to stick closer around him. To create a barrier to protect him. But they also insist that random creeps unfortunately exist everywhere. It means nothing, really. There is no one suspicious around when they look, just a crowd of regular-looking monsters. The kind you'd find anywhere.

Sometimes, he comes home, back to his and Color's shared room, and things have been moved. Not by much. It's always subtle, but Killer is nothing if not observant. Color says that maybe he just misremembers where he put them. After all, it's only ever Killer's stuff that's out of place. And Killer's memory is not too good to begin with. But Killer could have sworn that he left his charger plugged in, and now it's not. He could have sworn that he left the bug plushie Color gifted him on his pillow, and it's tucked under the covers. He could have sworn as much, but he can't prove it. And he's not a stranger to gaslighting himself.

Not so far away, Nightmare is watching. Studying him.

It's an art form to blend into the crowd, but it's so much easier for a shapeshifter. And, really, is he truly harming Killer when all he's doing is proving to him that his new friends don't trust him? Is he truly so evil when he's only trying to help?

Besides, Killer's memory is not so good. He struggles with a lot of mental health issues. Clearly, he needs an owner who can give him a proper structure, and those three are failing miserably at that. He should have never left, but Nightmare will be oh-so magnanimous and take him back. And then he won't have to worry about trying to figure out what's real and what isn't, because Nightmare will tell him!

[fullsunrise]

Playing With Fire (M)

Word count: 1.8k

Pairing: Johnny x Original female character

Genre: Office AU, some angst, light smut

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, Johnny is a bully, heavy sexual themes, non-explicit smut (don't hookup with your coworkers!), uh semi-public sex

A/N: Uhhh I don't know what this is, but it's pretty much self-indulgent lmao

There was nothing quite like early winter in the city, with the twinkling lights tangled in the bare trees and a to-go coffee that was almost too hot. This early in the morning, there was no one around. It was calming, and Nari wanted to appreciate the silence before all hell broke loose. She sat on the unoccupied bench outside of her building, savoring the last five minutes she had until she had to face her worst nightmare. That nightmare happened to have a name: Johnny.

Johnny Suh from Sales. Even thinking about him made Nari’s eye twitch. Ever since she was forced to work with him on her latest project, he made it his sole mission to make her life a living hell. Never once in Nari’s career has she had to work with someone so egotistical, cunning, and above all else: annoyingly attractive.

Although she had been working at her company for the last two years, she had never heard of him. Not until she saw an unfamiliar name CC’d on an email from her boss. Confused, she made her way to her boss’s office.

“He's been here almost as long as you have, I believe,” her boss told her. “Great guy, it should be a breeze working with him.”

It was hilarious how wrong he was. Nari’s reality was most definitely not a breeze, but more like a hurricane. Whatever higher being set this up was surely laughing at her now as she struggled against the powerful storm.

To stand any chance, Nari knew she needed any advice she could get. And who else was more equipped than Jaehyun? After years of working at law firms across the city, Nari was sure he was the only person who could understand how to deal with egotistical monsters.

“I'm just saying, maybe try to avoid any interactions with the guy. I mean he's clearly a prick,” Jaehyun said, then took a sip of his beer.

“Trust me, I've been trying to avoid him but it's impossible when we have to work directly together,” Nari replied.

It was hopeless. Johnny was too smart. Careful not to push it too far, he was only condescending to her face. He made sure his actions spoke for him, though. Like last week when he went out to lunch with their project team, he accidentally forgot to invite her. And just a day ago, she swore he was whispering about her to another coworker in the kitchen. Then he laughed loud enough for Nari to hear, only confirming her suspicions. It was subtle, but enough to make her go insane.

“Don't let him get to you,” Jaehyun offered. “You know he's only doing this because he feels threatened by you.”

Threatened? Why would Johnny be threatened by her? Nothing about her was particularly threatening. Sure, Nari was good at her job but she never did anything that would cause someone to dislike her. And certainly she would never step on anyone just to get a promotion. In her corporate life, Nari made sure to remain honest, social, and professional. Unlike Johnny, who couldn't have a more opposite approach.

“I’ll try,” she replied. “But enough about me. How's it going in your world?”

“Same ol’ bullshit as always,” he chuckled.

They spoke about their jobs for a while longer, laughing at random anecdotes from the week. Nari didn't speak about Johnny again, and shortly the thought of him was washed down along with her Gin and tonic. Somewhere between her first and third drinks, Jaehyun asked her how her dating life had been. It caught her off guard only for a moment as she reached for an answer in her muddled brain. With her thoughts slowed, the best she managed to pull was a horrific yet comical dating story. Jaehyun laughed along with her and shared his own. It was always weird talking about her love life with Jaehyun but it was still nice nonetheless. But she would never get used to it, even though there were no lingering feelings left between them.

Nari came back to her apartment feeling a bit lighter after seeing Jaehyun. While he helped her forget about Johnny momentarily, Nari dreaded tomorrow. It was the day of the company holiday party. Normally Nari looked forward to it every year, but the idea of running into Johnny made her stomach churn. Sure, there were going to be a lot of employees and plus ones but the chance of seeing him wasn't zero.

The next day quickly flew by, with little to no urgent work that needed to get done. Nari always appreciated slow work days, but today she wished the day lasted a bit longer. Because as the moon rose in the sky, she knew could no longer hide.

The rooftop lounge was packed with her coworkers spread out across fancy bar top tables. Nari and a few of her team members claimed a spot close to the bar. While she was promised it would limit any unwanted interactions, the idea of walking up with all eyes on her made her mouth dry.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” Nari shouted on top of the loud music.

Much to her relief, Nari didn't recognize the people she passed on her way to the bar. No Johnny in sight, her shoulders relaxed instantly.

“One Old Fashioned, thanks,” the guy with slicked back hair in front of her ordered. Ugh, what kind of person would order that?

The guy with the slicked back hair turned around, and the moment Nari locked eyes with him she was frozen in place. The worst scenario Nair conjured in her mind was happening right now, in real life.

Johnny looked at her for a second before turning away to talk to his friend. That didn't bother Nari, but the fact that he decided to brush past her like she was invisible set her off.

Chasing after Johnny wasn't how Nari expected to spend her night, but there she was pushing through the crowd. Johnny moved fast, but she was able to catch up in the bathroom hallway.

“Why?” The liquor coursed through her veins, giving her the courage to speak up.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Johnny deadpanned, as he turned around to look straight through her. It was clear he was avoiding her question, which in turn only made her angrier.

“Don't play dumb, you know what you're doing,” she accused, her voice raising.

“You're going to be a bit more specific than that, sweetheart,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“So you're just going to pretend like you haven't made my life a living hell the last few months?”

“I think that's too harsh,” he answered, his expression softening. That look could've worked on other women, but Nari wasn't going to give in.

“It's the truth, you've hated me ever since that day.”

“When did I say I hated you?”

Jaehyun’s words echoed in her mind. “Admit it, you’re threatened by me.”

Bingo. Her words seemed to strike a nerve with Johnny, because the next thing she knew he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bathroom. Warning signs went off in her head immediately, but it happened so quickly that she couldn't break away.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he seethed, taking a step closer to her.

Was he always standing this close? The temperature was rising, and Nari could feel the blood rush into her cheeks.

“I think I do,” Nari breathed, trying to sound confident. But her quivering voice didn't fool him.

His kisses were feverish against her skin he left bites along the curve of her neck. As he made his way down to her collarbone, Nari’s eyebrows scrunched together. With her lips slightly parted in pleasure, Johnny took the opportunity to steal the air from her lungs in one swift motion. His lips were rough and chapped from the cold, but the way they molded to her own left her utterly breathless. When he abruptly bit her lower lip and gazed at her, she knew she was done for. Deep desire pooled in his eyes and her body craved more of the pleasure he brought. Nari knew right then and there that she had no plans of stopping him.

“No, you don't,” he asserted, breaking the kiss for only a second before diving back in.

Her back was flush against the wall now, the cool tile contrasting against the heat of her skin. Johnny held the side of her jaw forcefully, with his other hand tracing the contour of her waistband. Out the window was her moral compass along with her dignity, her judgment clouded with pure desire.

The sensation of his hand dipping lower only added to her bubbling lust. Without warning, he snaked his hand out of her waistband. Nari whined at the loss and Johnny chuckled in amusement.

“Oh?” he mused, his grin never leaving his face. “You don't like that?”

Nari could only shake her head in response, her brain too muddled to think clearly. Satisfied with her frazzled state, Johnny resumed his motions. Her gasps bounced off the bathroom walls as she chased the high, no longer caring who could hear. With each moan that escaped her lips, she began to fall apart. Strands of hair came loose and tears of pleasure pooled. Her release was imminent, but before she could reach the climax Johnny suddenly stopped.

“I'm sorry, did you want more?” he asked, forehead pressed to her own.

Falling from her high, the reality of the situation came back into focus. What the hell was she doing? Not too long ago Nari couldn't even fathom being in the same room as Johnny, let alone letting herself unravel in front of him. It almost sickened her how quickly she folded under his spell. He knew exactly what he was doing and Nari was willingly falling right into his trap.

“Please,” she replied as she tried to catch her breath.

That was all Johnny needed to continue. With her pleasure still heightened, it took Nari only a few minutes to fully come undone. If Johnny wanted, she would let him take her right then and there. All the sirens in her head told her it was wrong, but why did it feel so right?

“See you tomorrow,” he snickered as he pulled away from her. Giving her a quick once over, he left the bathroom without another word.

Left alone with nothing but her reeling thoughts, Nari glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Disheveled hair and smudged mascara. Nari could barely recognize herself. As she attempted to fix her unruly state, Johnny’s words mocked her. Their little affair was going to cost her. She wasn't going to get fired over it, no, but her impulses were going to cost her the little bit of sanity she had left. Johnny was going to take it all and ruin her beyond recognition.

[verytallfox]

The Sounds of Nightmares Episode 5: A Deluge of the Inevitable Thoughts

Right off the bat, we learn the Ferryman is likely the archetypal “guardian at the threshold.” Additionally, Noone has an OCULAR TUMOR in her brain?! She has a fucking eye-thing in there and it is what’s pulling her into the Nowhere.

Next, Noone gives Otto the chewing out of his life. He doesn’t want to listen to her about her parents, and she calls him out on his bullshit. She agrees to tell him about her latest dream so long as there are no machines this time. He agrees.

There’s a role reversal now: Otto will be lying down with a blindfold on while Noone tells him her latest trip to the Nowhere. Otto hopes that Noone can somehow transmit her dream into his head.

Noone is in a sewer setting. There’s lots of children and there’s waste and there’s messed up pipes. Also, unfortunately for Otto his plan is working.

Also, THERE IS A NOME!!! The same noise, the same description, and the same mannerisms! Noone calls it a “little mushroom fairy.” Noone also hits a nasty child with a brick who presumably seeks to hurt the Nome. The Nome guides her to a room full of scavenged junk and treasures, all compiled into piles, dropped down from the world above for years.

There’s also an abandoned child’s “propeller cap” that Noone suspects the Nome’s trying to show her.

There’s also a man, who empties his pockets with his goodies. He was seen before with a beeping device. He’s horribly distorted, his head a mess like most others in the Nowhere. Said head is swollen with the back sagging behind his head, mistaken for a sack for Noone. And she knows he used to be human. He became one with the sewers.

(Cutting out excessive summarization of the episode, there’s a chase, a tidal wave, and cruel singing)

Finally, the Ferryman appears and speaks in riddles that Noone has determined the meaning of: if she gives in to his world the suffering she feels in her own will stop. She suggests that CiCi (?) abandoned Otto because she had enough of his shit. He stumbles out of the room in shock.

Otto’s demeanor changes from this and he’s colder to her from here on out. She also discovers the tumor’s existence. He’s unprofessional and no matter what she said she’s a child and he’s an adult so fuck him, grrr!

Later that night, Otto decided to use a device on Noone to locate the tumor, believing it to be the gateway to the Nowhere. Noone is coming in and out of sleep and Otto is unhinged. He has some sort of brain imaging device and he finds her tumor. Upon viewing it, it LOOKS AT HIM, and its stare is seemingly painful. As it watches him, the machine breaks.

Something has happened to Noone…

And we’ve been cliffhangered. In the words of the great Rouxls Kaard:

GOD. DAMN IT.

Some analysis:

I fucking loved this episode. Of the few legitimate theories I have (this episode mainly backs up the ones I already there), Eyes in your brain lead to the Nowhere, the Ferryman is its guardian, and it can bleed into our world too are all that’s new. Pretty simple!

Also, I believe the “bag-headed man” was once a normal child or normal man, and he’s meant to embody some sort of desire or hunger along with the nasty children. Noone’s explanation of him and the children each wanting what the other has also is meant to parallel to some degree her and Otto.

Additionally, the propeller cap is either the man’s or the Nome’s. As for the children, I don’t think those children were always children (assuming they even are children now) or perhaps they originated in the Nowhere. There’s something wrong with those guys.

I think the man might be in Little Nightmares 3. There was a suspiciously sewer-themed area in the trailer so fingers crossed!

Also, I believe CiCi is Otto’s sister. There’s mention briefly of Otto being just a boy and also looking “nothing like” his sister.

Lastly, something bad has happened to Noone y’all. I don’t know what, but I think the answers fall under two categories: physical harm or vanishing. We’ve got one more episode left and I can’t wait for it.

EDIT

Holy shit I can’t believe I didn’t consider that they both might be in the Nowhere now. I honestly love that idea, along with the possibility that the final recording will be taken while in the Nowhere. LOVE THAT!

Apologies if this summary heavy, but I hope this gave folks some delicious morsels to nibble on until next week! Thanks for reading and god I love this fucking podcast so much, it has filled the Magnus-shaped hole in me hearto. Anywho, toodles!

[formerheroeswhoquittoolate]

why I'm unhappy with secret invasion: an accidental essay that turned out WAY more aggressive than I wanted it to (sorry about that)

I'm furious about how Secret Invasion is going. It feels like Marvel just went ahead with a Samuel L. Jackson vanity project, but and it's barely interesting and it's fucking with canon characterization. And it's fucking Secret Invasion! This could be meaningful! But instead it feels like it's trying to redo what TFATWS already did and did better. We already HAD a show about a global terrorist movement and the evils of white privilege, and it was actually really good, so what is this show supposed to be again? Oh. I see. It's different because Nick Fury is in it. Gotcha.

Oh, and [spoilers for ep 1 and 2]

They killed Maria Hill in the first episode. Not only did they kill her (which is bad enough from this studio, considering they've also killed Gamora, Natasha, and Wanda), but they fridged her. And not even kind-of-fridged, like with the aforementioned characters, where the death was required and mostly reasonable by in-universe circumstances, even if it was an easy out. No. Maria was literally, actually, to-the-letter fridged. They even confirm that in the dialogue of the second episode. Fury actually says that Gravik killed her to hurt him. She didn't have to die -- hell, if she wasn't going to be relevant to the rest of the show, she didn't even need to be in it in the first place! (More on that in a minute.)

And the thing is. The thing is. I would be so much happier with the show if the roles were reversed. Canon Fury is all "I still believe in heroes! There's good in people! Befriend the aliens!" He's a badass spymaster, yeah, sure, but he's also pretty optimistic about people. And then there's Maria Hill.

[Image description: Maria Hill, saying "Best advice you'll ever get from me, a dedicated law enforcement officer, to you, an amateur looking to go pro: 'Assume everyone is a broken, nightmare, garbage person and then be pleasantly surprised if it ends up not the case.' It'll save you a lifetime of disappointments."] [Image credits: Bendis and Pichelli's Spider-Man #12 (2017)]

That seems to have carried over into the MCU fairly well. And to see her? Struggling to fulfill Fury's goal after his death, operating without her mentor for the first time, trying to figure out how to reconcile his faith in the Skrulls with her natural instinct that everyone is lying all the time? To see her actually doing the work, speaking to the security committee and telling them to piss off, because Fury was in Moscow to do a hero's work and he died a hero, no further questions? To see her, the character who has long been reduced to the sidekick of male characters with a much shorter stint in Marvel's canon, fully come into her own as the protagonist of this series? It would have been perfect. We could have actually gotten a show full of espionage and intrigue instead of a hamfisted... racism metaphor? I'm not even sure at this point. This could have actually been something besides a Samuel L. Jackson vanity project. I know I said that already, but I am going to say it again. This show is here so Jackson can look cool and badass and also be a funny old man. And I wouldn't care if they weren't reducing every other meaningful character in the series to a Skrull, a corpse, or a realpolitik adversary. Like, fuck this false advertising. Maria Hill, Everett Ross, and Rhodey were all in the trailer like they were going to be relevant. As if this was going to be an interesting web of an ensemble cast. Instead, it's the Nick Fury show with a few redeeming scenes from the terrifyingly cheery British spymaster lady.

It's almost like Marvel knew no one would want to watch the show if they just straight-up said it was going to be all Nick Fury. And I haven't even started on the bullshit that was the train conversation (a whole monologue about sitting in the colored section on trains and then straight-up telling Talos there's not enough room for his people on the train? Was I the only one thrown off by that?) or the dialogue between him and Rhodey in the bar ("even when I'm out, I'm in.") or the Skrull wife reveal (which felt like it wanted to be some big important twist but it also had exactly zero setup) or... whatever is happening with Talos and Gaea. The next episode comes out in two days, and I'm still crossing my fingers that a miracle of plot will happen and it will get better. But it's going to take a miracle.

[astxrwar]

blunt force trauma [2/x]

SYNOPSIS: traumatized!Bucky x Brainwashed!supersoldier!reader.

Rating: M

Word Count: 5k

Content Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Check out the tag "fic; blunt force trauma" for Content + ao3 chapter notes for extras if you're interested. <3

Read on AO3

[1] [ 2 ] [3]

It’s the first thing he realizes when he wakes up the next morning; he’s going to have to fix that giant fuck-off hole in the wall.

Bucky only remembers after he’d gone through the convoluted and absolutely unnecessary process of the Home Depot self-checkout— gloves don’t work on the stupid fucking touchscreens they have now, and neither do half of his fingers, which is just such bullshit, god, everything was easier when you could just hand some guy actual money and be done with it— that the government tracks his purchases. The military, technically. Parole condition, again, since they’re paying his rent and also all of his bills, and because, he suspects, him having an actual job would limit the amount of time he’s available as a state-sponsored superweapon of last resort. 

“What’d you get at the hardware store?”

Doc’s tone is light, nonchalant, and painfully fucking contrived. A nail gun, he thinks about saying, and some rope, and duct tape, and, oh— a band saw. Whatever he can think of that sounds the most like he might be planning to commit murder; just to be an asshole. But she already knows exactly what he bought, courtesy of the modern-day surveillance state dystopia that already pretty much existed even with that HYDRA mission falling flat. 

What he bought was a seven-foot oak two-by-four, a C-clamp, wood glue, and twelve 3” galvanized screws.

Nothing villainous, nothing remotely illegal , or whatever the hell these people think. That support in the wall is fucked, but he’d done some amount of woodworking, just as an odd summer job way back when he was fifteen or so, and he knows enough, he thinks, to be able to fix it on his own. Even if he doesn’t, tough shit, he can figure it out— he’s not going to explain to his fucking super why there’s a massive hole in the drywall and the beam’s been split nearly in half. No bullshit excuse he could come up with for any of that even came close to sounding like it’d be believable, and, besides, he kind of likes having something to do. Progress that’s visible. A goal that’s concrete. 

“The TV stand,” he lies. “It— broke.” He’d worked out the details while he was on the subway headed here, decided on exactly when to pause and hesitate like he’s admitting to something, the points where he’d inject some moments of performative vulnerability into it, not too much, just enough, he hopes, to get everyone off his fucking back. 

Doc’s eyebrows raise briefly. She taps her pen against the pad. “Broke how, James,” she prods, on fucking cue.

He hesitates, on purpose, and looks away from her, also on purpose, and then says, pointedly monotone, “I had a nightmare.” 

She leans forwards, just a little bit— she’s probably not even aware of the fact that she had, the way most people tend to be oblivious to their tells— and he knows she’s interested. Thinks this is something. “Walk me through how those are connected.”

The implication is pretty fucking clear, because she already knows he sleeps on the floor in the living room more often than in his own bed, and she knows that he has a temper, a violent one, one that he controls with precision except in circumstances where he doesn’t have to. Like when he’s alone. But she wants to hear him say it; so many appointments end up like this, the both of them already knowing whatever unspoken thing that’s been brought up, and her just— obsessed with the actual speaking. It’s annoying, but at least it’s fucking predictable. “I had a nightmare,” he repeats, not even having to fake the irritation, “And I was in the living room, and I woke up, and I was— in a bad mood. So I broke it.”

She writes something down on the notepad and he has to restrain the urge to roll his eyes. This is not the first time he’s talked about breaking shit when he’s angry. There is fucking– nothing new here. 

“So you’re planning on fixing it, then?” She says when she’s done, studying him. 

He grits his teeth. Again with the fucking obsession with stating the obvious. “It’s new. I don’t want to just— throw it out.”

She stares at him for a moment longer, her expression too relaxed to be vetting the merit of what he’s said; more like she’s contemplating it. Eventually she blinks and shifts in her chair, crossing one leg over another and sets the pad and the pen on the edge of her desk, seemingly satisfied. “That sounds like quite the project,” she remarks, in that tone he can never quite place, whether it’s approving or patronizing or something else altogether. “I think this has the real potential to be a valuable lesson for you, James. Fixing something you've broken instead of discarding it– it can be a therapeutic experience. It might help you work through some of the guilt you’re feeling.”

He doesn’t bother to stop himself from gritting his teeth at that; it would have annoyed him even if he hadn’t been lying.

~

Bucky fixes the beam, hammers the splintered wood back into a vaguely-straight line and seals the cracks with wood glue and attaches the new two-by-four to it with the galvanized screws; it’s called sistering, what he does, and the last time he’d done this shit was something like 1934. It’s what you do when the alternative would be jacking up the wall and tearing down the entire thing, which would be a massive fucking pain and require more tools and more expertise than he has.

He doesn’t see her again between then and his next appointment.

Doc grills him about his ‘project’ the next time he sees her and he says some stupid shit like yeah, it’s going fine, I feel better, I guess, about not throwing it out. And I was thinking I kinda don’t want to break it again, ‘cause I put a lot of work into fixing it. 

Doc looks satisfied with that. It’s not entirely a lie; he knows, now, what this kid is capable of. Next time he really will be more careful.

He makes sure, when he gets around to buying the spackle and the mesh and the paint to patch the drywall, that he pays in cash.

~

The second time she’s a whole lot more sneaky about the breaking-and-entering. 

Bucky wonders, briefly, if this is how it felt for his targets to come home and see him there, straight-backed and still like a statue, just– waiting. Not blinking, hardly even breathing, motionless and so utterly detached that it was hard to tell if he’d been there for hours, or if it had only been minutes. 

This time, he knows better than to try to get close. 

He’d been at the package store, picked up a case of beer, but she’s in the kitchen again and between him and the fridge, so he decides to just set it down by the door. He makes his way into the living room empty-handed, arms raised like last time. He doesn’t go further than the single armchair about halfway, just kind of rotates it around so it’s facing the kitchen, and sits in it. Focuses real hard on looking– safe. Nonthreatening. Whatever the fuck that even means.

“Sorry,” she says, after a while, the word kind of– slurred, like her tongue isn’t moving right in her mouth, thick and clumsy and unused to the dexterity speaking requires. “About your– wall. I didn’t– I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says, after a while. “I fixed it.”

She stares at him, for a long time, not even blinking. He stares back, unfazed.

All of this feels like the weirdest kind of deja vu– like how sometimes in his nightmares he watches himself, in the third person, like he’s an observer in his own memories, or sometimes even from the eyes of victims or bystanders, even though that’s impossible and doesn’t really make sense. That’s what it feels like, now, kind of, except where the nightmares feel visceral and frightening and have him jolting awake drenched in sweat and violently sick, right now he’s– fine.

It’s one of those nightmares, except all of the pieces are cut up and rearranged and the details are all disorganized, like somebody’s telling a story all out of order. Like the cinema, back when he was a kid; he had had this friend before he’d dropped out of high school who worked in the back room at the theater, and he’d gotten to watch, one time, and see how the movies that look like they play out as one cohesive and unbroken event when you’re sitting in the audience are really just a whole bunch of smaller reels, switched out between two different projectors to give the illusion of continuity. Right now, if this were a movie, all of those reels would be all jumbled up, and whoever’s running the show keeps forgetting how to time the switch between the projectors right; things keep overlapping, getting lost. Remixed.

“You want to maybe tell me what’s going on?” he says eventually.

“I–” She finally blinks, then, and tears her eyes away, looks somewhere over his shoulder, glassy and sightless. “I don’t– I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Bucky shifts on the chair as he watches her, leaning back, resting his elbows on the arms, trying to appear casual, relaxed, which is– not how he feels. He’s not stressed out, really, but that same thing is going on with his awareness, like the last time; everything is sharp and bright and detailed, and he’s here, he’s present, he’s not caught up in his own thoughts or in his memories or in the past, separated from everything else in his head like he’s cordoned off from it all by this thick pane of glass. “Okay, well, what do you know?”

Here is what he knows: when he’d gone back through the memory, some of the patterns she’d used when they’d fought were HYDRA, but a lot of them weren’t. He thinks she’s probably been brainwashed, but it’s hard to tell to what extent, and even harder to tell why. She knows him, and he’d bet that’s why she keeps coming back here.

She doesn’t answer the question. She still hasn’t moved, not even to shift her weight, like she can’t feel the way her body must be getting sore from standing in the same place for a while. Normal people, they fidget a fucking lot. Bucky’s not as bad as he used to be, so he moves, now, occasionally, aware of his muscles complaining if he’s stayed still for too long, but it’s infrequent enough to make people uncomfortable. 

He figures it probably doesn’t make her uncomfortable. He figures even if it did, deep down– she probably wouldn’t even know.

“You know me,” he presses, after the silence has drawn out for a long time. “You knew my name.”

She looks back at him again. Even the way her eyes move is strange, unnatural, too sharp and too sudden and too intent. People don’t realize this, either, but when they look at stuff, they never really look at it; the eyes move, back and forth, just a little bit. Compensating for the fact that the human field of vision is actually pretty narrow, filling in the bits in the periphery. When she looks at things, there’s no movement. Just this unwavering precision. That happens to him sometimes, still. 

“Do you know your name?” he asks her, and she flinches. 

That thing that he’d seen the last time, like a spark, or a glint, or something, when she’d been about to do some serious damage to herself in order to escape and he’d let her go, when she’d recognized that– it’s back. 

Absently, Bucky thinks about Romania. This apartment is way fucking nicer than the one he’d had then; a one-bedroom, new, light fixtures that all work and really great water pressure and a kitchen that’d been remodeled just last year. In Bucharest, he’d lived in a studio, with windows that didn’t latch and leaked when it rained and hot water only sometimes. 

“How about you just tell me your name,” he says, more firmly than the first time. “You know it, it’s always the first thing to come back.”

That’s not really true. The first things are feelings, but they’re fleeting and sometimes wrong. A name is a concrete thing. It’s a fact. You can write it down and you can say it aloud and you can hold onto it.

She jerks back like he’d slapped her. “How do you know that,” she replies, still flat, but wavering a little; so little that if he didn’t know , he probably wouldn’t notice.

James Buchanan Barnes. He’d carved it with a pocket-knife into the floorboards of that studio apartment, above where he’d hidden his go-bag underneath, in the spots where water damage had rotted it, made the wood soft, like carving into skin. It was insurance. To make sure he couldn’t forget. He’d stare at it, when his nightmares would keep him awake, and the letters would float out of focus and distort and stop making sense, like when you say the same word over and over, until it means nothing.

Eventually, there were other things, too. 

Your mother’s name was Sarah. You used to wear newspapers in your shoes. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Bucky says. “Tell me your name.”

That spark in her eyes is bigger, flickering, like watching a candle in a windowsill. “I– I don’t–”

“You can tell me,” he repeats, louder, “You know it. You’ve said it, haven’t you? Out loud, to yourself, and I bet you’ve written it down somewhere, you know it, I know you do–”

His voice rises in volume and lowers in pitch without him meaning for it to, and something inside of her flips like a switch, that candle stops being a candle and it flashes bright and wild like a molotov cocktail or a fucking car bomb, like flames licking up the side of a building, the veneer of neutrality cracked open and something vicious and violent and vulnerable underneath and whatever of that is still left inside of him rears up to press at the surface of his skin and he thinks yes, come on, just fucking say it–

Her eyes flash and harden and her mouth presses into this trembling line and she turns and disappears down the hallway.

“Oh– god damn it,” Bucky says, the tension he hadn’t even registered collecting in his body giving out, his back slumping into the chair cushions. 

He sits there for a long time before he finally gets up and goes down the hall to his bedroom, where he stares at the open window, and then pulls it shut.

~

Bucky sleeps in his bed, that night, and not in the living room. He doesn’t have nightmares, and he doesn’t even really wake up on the hour like he’d expected to. Instead, he dreams. In his dream, he comes home to a darkened apartment, case of beer in hand, and he walks the length of the living room and he opens the fridge and sets it inside. When he closes the door, she’s standing behind it, and dream-him jerks like he’s been startled, though he doesn’t feel any actual fear.

She has a gun to his head. She’d been in civilian clothes both times he’d seen her, but in his dream she’s wearing black. Body armor.

“Sorry,” she tells him. Like she’s talking about the hole in the wall.

Her finger tightens around the trigger.

He closes his eyes.

Bucky wakes up before it goes off. His bedroom is flooded with morning light and his heart is beating slow and steady and he feels, strangely, fine. 

~

Doc stops halfway through a back-and-forth about whether or not he’d consider actually picking up woodworking as a hobby– you need hobbies, James, it’s part of being a well-adjusted human being, to which he’d flashed a not-smile and said back, I thought the reason I come here twice a month is because I’m not one, Doc.

She’d looked at him like a parent looks at a child who’s being snarky on purpose, which– fuck that, honestly. He’d been alive probably before her parents were even born.

And then she’d just leaned towards him and tapped her pen against her notebook and stared, the way normal people stare, her eyes fidgeting back and forth, not staying anywhere for long, flicking over his expression and his posture and the way that he’s holding himself in the too-small annoyingly-uncomfortable chair–

“You’re in a good mood,” she says, and then, as an afterthought. “Relatively speaking.”

Bucky scowls at her. “I'm not in a– good mood,” he says. 

She raises an eyebrow at him like she thinks he’s full of shit. “I’d like to discuss it. Your mood. Good or otherwise.”

The scowl deepens. It’s real fucking aggravating, the way that she always prefaces shit with I’d like to and let’s try and if you would as if he has any choice in the matter. As if this isn’t a session he’s forced into attending because the alternative is– many years in prison. Many. So many.

He closes his eyes for a second. He has a headache starting; he always gets fucking headaches, here. “It’s nothing, I don’t know,” he says. She stares some more, the way she does when she’s not going to say shit, the threat of talk or I’m court-ordering you back to sessions more frequently than either of us want to be seeing each other lingering unspoken in the deeply annoying silence.

Bucky makes some vague frustrated noise and then does what he usually does when she gets like this; racks his brain and makes something up. 

“I met someone,” he says finally, which is true. “They’re a veteran,” which is also true. Kind of. “I’ve seen them a lot,” not really, three times isn’t that much, but the context kind of makes it feel like it is. “And I guess I’ve just been thinking about them. We’ve started– talking. Kind of. Not really friends, but– acquaintances. We have–” he shifts on his chair, crosses an ankle over his knee, thinks, again, about how the government could buy furniture that doesn’t suck. “We have a lot in common.”

Doc blinks at him; she’d sat forwards, the way she does when she’s pressing him, and she leans back, now, which he’s sure makes him palpably relax. “A veteran,” she repeats, pensive, “World War 2?”

He scoffs. “No.” 

“Korea?”

“No.” 

She gives him this look, which he figures is something along the lines of would it kill you to just answer the obvious question here?

Bucky sighs, long-suffering. “Recent. I don’t– it hasn’t come up, but they’re pretty young, so.”

Doc makes some approving sound and nods and writes something in her notebook. He hates that fucking notebook. Sometimes he thinks about breaking into the office and setting it on fire, but the risk-to-reward ratio, he figures, just isn’t worth it. He’d probably go to prison. Or worse, he’d be sent all the way back to visits twice a week. 

“If they’re around your age–” he opens his mouth to say something technically probably obnoxious, but she shoots him a sharp look and says, “Your physical age, James,” before he can– “--it’s likely to have been Iraq or Afghanistan.”

She glances up and to the left of him– the clock. Great; they have to be almost done. “Both of those wars were– complex. Most of my clients served in one or the other,” she says. “Quite a large number of soldiers who were simply following orders found themselves responsible for the deaths of innocents; I’m not surprised you have things in common. I think it would be beneficial for you to make friends you can relate to.”

What he thinks: 

I don’t have anything in common with people who chose to follow orders. People who chose to do-- anything.

What he says, instead; “What, you want me to make friends with them?”

She sets the pad and the pen down on the table beside her chair. “This is one of those things that’s more about what you want, James,” she says eventually.

“I don’t know what I want,” he replies.

~

It’s been a week, since he saw her; she’s not there, when Bucky steps into his apartment after taking the subway back from therapy. He wonders for a second if he’d fucked up the last time, scared her off, but he knows, objectively, it’s too early to consider the possibility. Not like he could do anything about it, anyway; he doesn’t have the connections to be able to figure out who she is without a name.

That night he has the dream again. The apartment, darkened and silent. The bright, washed-out white of the open fridge, setting the case of beer on the second shelf, the inside otherwise empty. Spotless. Like a prop. Dreams are weird.

He knows what’s going to happen when he closes the door, this time. For a second it looks like there’s something red on her arm, at the shoulder, but when he looks harder for it there’s nothing, just unbroken black.

“Sorry,” she tells him, again, only this time she keeps going. “I have to. I don’t have a choice.”

“It’s okay,” he says; this is new, too. “I know. It’s going to be okay.”

Her finger tightens around the trigger in slow-motion, and he doesn't close his eyes, this time.

Bucky still wakes up before the gun actually goes off, and he still wakes up feeling weirdly calm. He prefers this, he decides, over the dreams about killing people. Dreaming of being killed– that’s fine. Better, actually.

He sits up and he swings his legs over the side of the bed– he’d been taking advantage of the lack of nightmares and the suspicious ease with which he’s been sleeping, lately, because he’s kind of getting old and his body has started to hate him whenever he doesn’t sleep on an actual mattress– and when he stretches his back doesn’t ache or twinge or crack the way it does when he sleeps on the floor.

He yawns. He rubs at his eyes until splotches of color burst behind his eyelids, and then he opens them, and he waits for his vision to unblur, and–

He zeroes in on something moving on the windowsill with an instinctive and familiar efficiency.

It’s a slip of paper, folded up and trapped between the glass and the mesh screen, fluttering gently with the breeze. It’s from a notebook, ripped out, the kind that comes from one of those slender, flimsy little pocket-sized spiral ones you can get at the dollar store, the pages inside so thin they might as well be tissue paper.

On it, scrawled in shaky, uneven handwriting, is a name.

~

He has the dream a bunch more times after that, and it's mostly the same, and then it isn't.

Stepping through the door to his apartment, stepping into an open mouth; the lights are on, this time, but somehow the room is still dark, just these glittering shards of white on the ceiling that look like sharp, gleaming teeth. He can’t see her as he rounds the counter to the fridge, and though he tries to turn his head and look, the dream body won’t obey. Just opens the door, puts the beer inside– there’s stuff in the fridge, just splotches of color that could be anything– and then closes it again.

Gun to his head. The muzzle is touching his skin, this time, which is weird, and also stupid. You don’t touch people with the gun you’re pointing at them; that’s a really good way to get it taken from you. But it’s a dream, and even though he tries to turn and disarm her, his body stays still.

“Sorry,” she says, “I have to. I don’t have a choice.”

It’s okay. I know. It’s going to be okay. He’s had this dream a lot of times, now, and so he expects–

He says the name from the notebook paper. Her name. She’d given it to him, she’d wanted him to have it. 

Her finger tightens around the trigger all at once, and he doesn't wake up, this time, but the gun doesn’t go off, either. 

It clicks. Jammed. She opens her hand, and it drops, and then it disappears instead of hitting the floor, because– dreams.

“What do I do now,” she says. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

"It's okay,” he hears himself reply. "Just-- let me help you."

[loopielupie]

Whumptober Day 28 - Sacrifice

Aizawa knows what the media paints heroes to be: he sees it in the wide shining eyes of kids that ask Mic for his autograph and in the desperate faces of those he saves. A devotion and trust so utter it's almost frightening. It does frighten him sometimes, sending him slinking away from scenes once everything is secure and he can disappear unnoticed.

He knows what All Might conditioned the world to believe: heroes are pillars. Heroes are always ready, always there to save the day, willing to sacrifice everything if it will save civilians from the evil of the world.

He also knows that's bullshit. No hero can stand on their own. He's seen what that life has done to Toshinori, the shell it turned him into. He's seen what the media and the public do to heroes who fail to live up to that impossible standard; he's seen what happens to vigilantes who get caught doing everything heroes do but without the social or official credentials.

Heroes are human too.

So he teaches that. He teaches heroics his way. To avoid another All Might. He emphasises teamwork, fails entire classes who refuse to see the need for it or those who insist that heroes should stand alone.

And then he gets a new 1-A.

In the beginning, he thinks this might be another scorched earth class: full of personalities that clash and kids that, on the outside, seem to be set against his philosophy and eager to prove only themselves.

But then, they prove him wrong. Over and again, they work together: in training, in the licensing exams, in situations they should never have been put in that still give him nightmares. He starts to think that maybe his lessons are sticking, that this will be the one class he can push through UA, confident in knowing they won't try to be the next All Might.

And then Izuku disappears. Leaves carbon copy notes for everyone (he's pretty sure) that spill his secrets. And Aizawa is angry: at All Might for putting such ridiculous pressure on a child to keep a secrete and hold up a legacy Aizawa has never agreed with in the first place. He's angry at the world who told Izuku he needed to be that way and at the kid for believing it. But he's also angry at himself: for not doing enough to stop Izuku's reckless, self-sacrificing tendencies, not being enough to shout down the collective voices of the media and public opinion and Izuku's own hero.

He doesn't sleep much, after that. Mic sits with him in the wee hours despite his insistence that he's fine. Mic's known him long enough, suffered him long enough, that he knows better. He listens as Aizawa questions himself and his philosophy and picks holes in everything he's believed since Obouro. Mic listens and then Mic talks: offers reminders about the rest of the kids. How they're teaming up to fight for their place in the search, planning, strategising so that no one is alone and they'll get "stupid fuckin' Deku" (to paraphrase Bakugou) back together and "beat some fuckin' sense into him". Aizawa might have to have words with him about that one.

It helps, to know that his lessons have been enough; that this 1-A has learned and grown more than he'd expected and, at Mic's insistence, that he's helped make them that way. It's not enough to fill the hollow in his chest. But it helps.

[confused-wanderer]

“No one cares about us.”

“No one cares about us!”

Ghost always believed no one cared. If he died, the world would forget him and move on. No one cared. No one would care if he got hurt. No one would care if he was scared. No one would come to help him. He was on his own.

Soap always thanked god no one cared. If he made a fool of himself, the world would forget about him and move on. No one cared. No one would care if he looked ridiculous doing childish things. No one would care if he frolicked in the gardens on a rainy night. No one would come to chide him for being himself. He was on his own.

While Soap reveled in it, he didn’t ask for much else. It didn’t matter if the world never got to knew him, he knew himself and that was good enough. He would be himself, he would do nice things because it made him feel good, he would be kind and happy because he wanted to. Because no one cared, and he was more than fine with that. He’d long since given up on hoping someone would anyways.

And Ghost had accepted it as his fate. That he was destined to be the one not many would care about. Why would they waste their empathy on him? No one truly does, they never will. They will try, but that’s all they can do. Everytime he’d tried to be vulnerable he’d been burned. Everytime there was a ray of hope the sky would turn bleak with hatred and hurt. Everything was used against him, and he was more than fine with that.

But then they crossed paths.

And when Soap is there for him, watching his six Ghost feels his heart flutter in his chest. He sees no doubt in Soap’s eyes when the man promises to be by his side, watching his back. When Ghost is injured in battle, Soap is the first one running towards him. When he has nightmares and sits alone on the couch, Soap always finds him.

And when Ghost is behind him, Soap chokes. When he realises that there is someone there, who refuses to let any smile that is fake shine. When Ghost comes to him after three nights of anger and asks Johnny what’s wrong Soap starts. No one’s done that before. And when he calls bullshit on Soap’s lies, his excuses to avoid expressing himself he’s never been so grateful.

Soap was Ghost’s sea, allowing him to flow through life and dream. To hope.

Simon was John’s anchor, allowing him a safe place that provides shelter from the constant storm. To breathe.

It seemed that life did love proving them wrong, and for once, it had worked in their favour.

[dreamerlucifer]

A sleep deprived Dove was curled up onto the couch of the hotel; the nightmares wouldn't stop plaguing her, and it was taking a toll on her. Tear stains covered her cheeks, tucked into a ball as she struggled to stay awake..

"Another long day..." Gasped Lucifer as he finally got the chance to leave that ungodly boring, and most one sided argument heaven had given him so far to date on extermination and why it should still remain even after a soul from Hell was able to Ascend... "I mean, what was the point of dragging it out for 3 hours when they weren't even going to give me a word in edgewise??"

His disdain grew well past his normal breaking points this time, but somehow, this situation was starting to feel a tad more dire than situations of the past.. What with everyone now aware that Angels could be killed, there were bound to be those getting ready to uprise against heaven, while at the same time, Residents of Hell were being able to Ascend to the pearly gates... Surely the inner workings of the world were slowly being turned onto their own head!-

--OOOP-- came the odd noise from Lucifer, as he had been completely taken by surprise when he literally bowled over the younger Cannibaltown couple he normally spied hanging out near the quarry... Normally, he would have stopped to offer some apologetic form of assistance.. But, NO, not today, as he was already WAY MORE concerned about the possibility of missing Charlie's game of cards over at the new hotel...

Now, hmmmm, which form of cards was it they were planning on tonight..

"Ughhh.... Damnnn.." No matter how many times he placed reminders about the mansion for the month, or took the time to remind himself of the game by name, there was just no way Lucifer could get it right DX...

FLASHBACK 1- A devastating loss at poker when He thoroughly believed the game to be played had to do with Bullshit!

FLASHBACK 2- Yet another devastating loss when he had mistook Egyptian Ratscrew for Slap-Jack

"Welp, Luci, third time's a charm, right??" He said to himself as he ran down the many streets towards the new hotel, his hope being to trick himself back into having some form of confidence when it came to card games at all.... Card games were never really quite his strong suit..

Soon enough though, he found himself close to the entryway to Charlie's Hazbin Hotel. Rounding his way past a cute memorial to Sir Pencious, he slowed his pace just before slamming into the large double door entryway...

"Well well well, fancy meeting you on this.. FINE night, My shortest of Kings!!" --

"Can it, Alastor!!" He said smoothly, barely a tinge of his usual rage for the Radio Demon.. "Where's Charlie at, anyway?.." his tone immediately lifting into a melody as her name left his lips..

"Ohhh, your little 'Char Char' won't be here tonight, I'm afraid.." The smile growing ever more sinister, as if beckoning Lucifer to ask--

"Woaa, wait wait, waiiiitt, what?" His face was NOT amused in the least as he attempted to question why...

Not even giving Lucifer the satisfaction of a glance, Alastor continued, "Ohh, wellll, it just so happens that we've gotten some new recruits pretty late in the day today." His head cocked slightly as he watched Lucifer with great amusement, Luci's brisk walk slowing to a halt...

"Aww, REALLY??," he sneered at the radio demon...

In walked Angel, his slow movement only acting to accentuate the overall lefthand sided limp, "Guys, Charlie told me to pass the message that she'll be really late," Obviously worn well out, all onlookers automatically assume it to have been a studio day with Val...

Passing Lucifer slowly, Angel reached a hand out unbeknownst to the Small King.. At full arm's length, Angel dropped his hand onto Lucifer, the Fallen Angel's casually dressed left shoulder...

-ACK!!!- He exclaimed, completely unexpectant of the grab on his left shoulder, "Angel DUST!!!" He yelled, barely able to coax himself back down to a normal tone.., "What on earth was that for??"

"Woaa, now, Easy Mr. Short King!!" played Angel, though still very visibly in great pain from the days events, "Charlie had a special message for you!!"

But before Lucifer could shoot back, Angel continued, only, seriously this time, "Yea, she wanted you to check on one of the new arrivals. It seemed like the two had come together at first, but after talking to the one guy, Charlie's pretty certain that the girl still here in the hotel was by herself." He said as he motioned down towards to Guests' signature book in the great hall. "Her room number is written in the Guest book, so uhh, don't go screwin' it up, kay?" Angel took a minute to motion to Husk, I mean, it WAS his time to relax, right?? Short King can wait a hot second, sure he could.. "Look, its easy, just check in on the kid, see if they're hungry or something, and we'll take care of the rest, "he said, "SIMPLE!" And with that, Angel's focus was back on Husk as they seemed to have just struck up an argument on the strength each drink should be, naturally..

Woa.... He thought to himself, with renewed vigor!! Charlie trusts me... ME???? with one of their precious hotel screw ups?? "NO, don't just screw this up, Luci," He scolded himself as he wondered over to the guest book. This has to run smoothly, no.... PERFECTLY!!!!!... I'll just have to show Charlie what she's been missing while depending on that drowned rat, Alastor, as hotelier...

Looking from line to line, Lucifer decided that the one he was looking for HAD to be in room 1408... So before anyone else could stop and pester him, he took straight off for the 14th floor, 8th room ♥

He knew it wasn't necessary, but hey, why walk when you have the full on outright usage of a form of teleportation! Right? That's exactly what he thought...

He went to hop right in front of 1408 and knock loudly, but something down the hall had caught his eye first..-

To his sad surprise, was what looked to be a beautiful young woman laying on one of the great hall couches... His expression softened greatly as he approached her further, though... as he watched intently... small tremors seemed to be overtaking the poor girl..., "Uhmm, excuse me," He began, his voice light yet smooth.. He waited for a response, but none came, so he tried yet again.. "Miss? Are you alright?.. Because it seems you have been--" She still didn't stir...

Thinking to himself, Lucifer then decided to touch her lightly, perhaps helping her to awaken from what appeared to be.. this deep, dark Nightterror... So ever so gently, he shifted her with the use of his staff's magical properties, so as not to distress her. But once his spell had been set in motion, he realized much too late, that this was most certainly the wrong approach, as she was indeed already AWAKE!

Taken aback by that, Lucifer opened his mouth to apologize.. but then stopped-- His expression much warmer, concerned, and ready...

The ever darkening stains on both of the beautiful girl's cheeks spoke so much just to begin with..

Lucifer waved his staff in a circular manor, not a huge spell by any means, but this very small one would suffice ♥ The spell conjured a medium sized blanket, made of the finest microfibers. It was a pretty little blanket, adorned with small white and yellow ducklings, and its texture was that of the softest of furs... Warm enough to make one feel safe, yet light enough to allow them to drift amidst the endless astral planes..

Once close by, he easily spread the blanket out over the poor lost soul, careful to tuck the edges as he slowly leaned back to sit on the couch beside her.. "You know," Lucifer started, "I was terrified when I came to this place for the first time too..." His warm smile aided him as he caressed the hair on her head, "But just as I thought it was the end of the world..," He took a deep breath, a tear in his eye, "I found out not a day later, that I had been entirely wrong!!" He sniffled lightly, his eye immediately finding a portrait of Charlie on the great wall.., "Now, tell me, small teary one, What brings you here, to our very own, Hazbin Hotel?" ♥ ....

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Five)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N:

It’s so odd for me to write something other than a slow burn. Slow burns are what I’m known for and I’m demisexual so that's how I live my life lmaooo But with this story, it just worked out this way and Act Two is kinda a slow burn as they reconnect and shit? My other Ghost stories I’m working on are slow burns though. 

Placebo - I Feel You (Depeche Mode cover)

I feel you

Your sun, it shines

I feel you

Within my mind

You take me there

You take me where

The kingdom comes

You take me to

Lead me through

Babylon

This is the morning of our love

It's just the dawning of our love

I feel you

Your heart, it sings

I feel you

The joy it brings

Where heaven waits

These golden gates

And back again

You take me to

Lead me through

Oblivion

This is the morning of our love

It's just the dawning of our love

I feel you

Your precious soul

And I am whole

I feel you

Your rising sun

My kingdom comes

I feel you

Each move you make

I feel you

Each breath you take

Where angels sing

And spread their wings

My love's on high

You take me home

To glory's throne

By and by

This is the morning of our love

It's just the dawning of our love

This is the morning of our love

It's just the dawning of our love

I feel you

Your precious soul

And I am whole

I feel you

Your rising sun

My kingdom comes

It had been a Friday night when Simon had met Charlotte, Saturday when he’d gone to her place, threatened her ex and fucked her over the sink. They wound up spending the rest of Saturday in her bed, not being able to get enough of each other. The sensation was new to him, never one to even go back for seconds but he couldn’t get enough of her. He’d ended up staying Saturday night, waking on Sunday morning with her bundled in his arms. He found he liked it. 

He hadn't had nightmares once in her presence, something that confused him but he decided not to question. It was a relief and he’d never been so well rested, but now it was Sunday night and he knew he’d have to go soon. She'd casually mentioned earlier in the day that she had work the next day and he didn't think she’d want him loitering at her place when she wasn't even there. Wasn't like he was expecting to move in with her after knowing her for one weekend, but the idea of going back to his cold and lonely apartment made the beating lump of flesh in his chest turn to ice. 

The idea of sleeping without her warmth next to him, of waking alone. He felt like he'd been given a rare gift, something precious and now it was being torn from him. He knew he was being ridiculous but he couldn't help it. There was this weird level of uncertainty about what would happen when he left. Would he ever even see her again? He’d give her his number but would she use it? What if that was it? He’d given her what he promised to, what if she was bored? So many utterly depressing questions ran through his head as they sat side by side on the couch, the tv on. 

He wasn't paying attention though, too deep in his own mind to care about what bullshit they’d been watching to occupy time. It hadn’t felt awkward here with her at all, it all felt so normal, like they were meant to spend each waking moment with each other. It all felt so absurd and he wasn't really sure what to do with himself. He didn't want to leave, but he had to and if he was honest, he’d rather get it over and done with. The longer he dragged it out, the more likely it would be that he wouldn't leave and wind up making a right tit of himself. 

“I should get goin’,” he muttered, trying to sound unbothered as he glanced at her. He didn't miss how her brows furrowed when she looked at him, not even hiding her disappointment. It made the simmering pain in his chest dull a little. Maybe he wasn't the only one feeling this way. God he fucking hoped he wasn’t. She opened her mouth to say something but chose against it as she nodded, forcing a smile he didn't believe for one second as she stood up. Did she dread being away from him too?

“Will I… Will I see you again?” she asked quietly, her voice meeker than he’d ever heard it and it sent a shot of relief through him to know she wanted to see him again too. Poor thing looked at him like she was bracing herself for the worst. As if he’d tell her to go fuck herself or something. 

“Do you wanna see me again?” he asked, feeling like he knew the answer now but wanting confirmation. Her cheeks turned that pretty pink he was fond of as she glanced away, nibbling her lower lip. She looked so shy, timid, but then her bright eyes turned to him with resolve in them as she nodded. He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips. 

“Then you’ll see me again, love,” he murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch and it made his heart beat all funny again. It did every time she responded to the smallest of touches he gave her. 

“I know it… it probably sounds really stupid ‘cause we met a few days ago but… I really like having you around,” she admitted, and his brows rose a little. He envied the balls she had on her to come out with that despite clearly feeling insecure, something he noticed seemed to run bone deep in her. He’d change that soon enough. But her words brought about a seering warmth that burned him from the inside out.

“I like havin’ you around too,” he confessed, eyeing her fondly as she smiled her pretty shy smile. Fuckin’ christ, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his fucking eyes on. He felt blessed just to look upon her, let alone touch her. 

She turned on her heel without a word and he watched curiously as she wandered over to the bedside table. She grabbed a phone he’d never seen her use, tapping on it for a moment before walking back over to him. She handed it to him with a sheepish smile and when he grabbed it, he noticed she had opened her contacts for him. He felt a pang of sadness in his chest when he saw the only contacts she had in her phone were Jessica, Ethan and her Boss Sylvie, who he only knew was her boss because it was in the contact name. She really had no one? She didn't have any of her family in her phone? 

His heart squeezed tightly as he tapped in his number and name. Deciding to take matters into his own hands and be a bit of a cheeky fucker, he went into her messages and opened a new message, sending himself a text of gibberish just so he had her number. That way he wouldn't have to wait for her to contact him first. It was bold but she just snorted, looking up at him with her bright blue eyes twinkling. 

“Don't trust that I’ll contact you?” she asked amused and he shrugged with a scoff.

“Not leavin’ anythin’ to chance,” he smirked and she laughed lightly. The sound filled up every empty crevice of his entire being and he soaked it in, wanting to memorise the sound before he left. He pocketed his phone, watching her chuck hers on the coffee table before he glanced toward the front door. It was already getting late and he knew he should leave her be so she could do whatever it was she needed to do for work the next day.

“Alright then, love,” he sighed, giving her a small smile. She nodded, walking to the front door and he followed. He lingered in the open doorway for a moment before he grabbed her hand and tugged her towards him. She yelped in surprise but it turned into a smile as she blinked up at him with those doe eyes. He leaned down, nuzzling her nose in that way he knew she liked before placing a soft kiss to her lips. 

He’d meant it to be tame, not wanting to start shit he couldn't finish before he had to leave, but then the minx slid her hands up his shirt, splaying them on his bare chest underneath as she deepened the kiss. He grabbed her face, plundering her mouth with his tongue as he tried to get every bit of her that he could like a greedy bastard. When he pulled away, she looked drunk almost and he loved that dazed look he could put on her face. 

“See you soon, yeah?” he rasped, voice hoarse as his eyes darted all over her face. 

“See you soon, Simon,” she smiled warmly at him, moving away from him and finally allowing him to tear himself away from her. He really, really didn't want to leave. He blew out a breath as he forced his legs to move, not able to look back at her as he descended the steps outside and into the alley way. 

As he made his way to the bus stop, he thought about the weekend he’d had. Hardly expected that, had he? A simple night at the pub with Tommy turned into something he wasn't quite prepared for. Charlotte had been a whirlwind that had torn through everything he thought he knew but he couldn't find himself bothered about it. It was a little scary, being so uncertain about things, feeling things he wasn't used to, but he wouldn't change anything. 

Was this what it was like to meet someone you cared about? Had Tommy felt this way when he’d met Beth? It all felt so surreal. God only knew how Tommy would react when he found out, Simon wasn't sure if he was ready to tell his brother yet. He was excited, wanting to gush about the crazy little brunette he’d met that had upended his entire world, but it still felt too soon. Still felt so fragile, like a small breeze would make it dissipate. He didn't want to get too invested, didn't want to tell his brother just yet because that meant it meant something. And if this didn't work out, if she got sick of him after a week which he wouldn't bloody blame her for, then he wasn't sure he could cope with other people knowing about it. She’d be his little secret for now and he’d see where the hell this thing went. 

When he got back to his place, the quiet grated on him and he clenched his jaw, huffing as he slammed his door shut. He could still smell her perfume lingering in the apartment and as he stomped to the bedroom, the bed was still unmade, rumpled from where they both got out of bed on Saturday morning. It was unfair to miss someone he hadn’t known that long and yet he felt the ache down to his fucking bone marrow. 

He set his phone on the nightstand, willing himself to not text so soon, lest he look like a desperate fool and probably scare her off. He settled on having a scalding hot shower to try and melt his tension away. It took him about half an hour before he got bored and felt no better. Padding out of the bathroom, he went back to his bedroom, grabbing some clean sweats and putting them on, not bothering with a top before he turned the tv on in his room. He never liked sleeping in the quiet and on bad nights, he’d put on the tv at a low volume just to have some noise in the background. He lay on the bed before he caved and grabbed his phone and he was surprised to see a message already waiting for him off Charlotte.

'Missing you already <3'

Before he knew what was happening, he realised he was smiling like a fucking idiot. It was such an odd sensation for him to smile so wide. He was never much of a smiler, nor a laugher. As he got older, beat the shit out of his dad and kicked him out, he found himself smiling more. Found himself a little more relaxed than he had been when he was younger and scared. Found himself laughing with Tommy, with Beth, even his mum. But nothing was quite the same as the level of warmth plaguing his chest right now looking at such a simple text. 

He felt… happy. Genuinely happy and not the fleeting kind that would happen when someone told a stupid joke or he watched something that amused him. It was a kind of happiness he’d never experienced before and he was helpless to stop it. How fucking terrifying was it, then? Getting so attached to someone you only knew for a few days. Was proper mental is what it was and he knew it. Happiness was a weakness. It allowed yourself to be open to get hurt, gave you a big gaping weak point that could be pressed and abused. Yet when he thought of the pretty girl with the dark hair and bright eyes, the fear was outshone by another feeling. A blooming excitement that made him tingle all the way down to his toes. Not the horny kind either, although he couldn't wait to get his hands on her again, but he was just excited to see her again. Was excited to hear her laugh, to see her beautiful smile, to hear her cheeky comments when she had a surge of confidence. There was just something about her that made him gravitate towards her, like she was a magnificent planet and he was her moon. He was pulled into her orbit and he couldn't get away even if he wanted to. 

He pursed his lips for a moment, eyes reading and rereading the message over and over as if he’d find the secrets of the universe in the letters. He realised then that she’d sent it over twenty minutes ago and he felt a jolt of guilt at making her wait. Hell, if he’d had the balls to text her first and had to wait that long he was pretty sure he’d be climbing the fucking walls. Part of him felt so unsure of himself in this new territory, he wasn't used to this. Fucking texting a girl, hoping to see her again. On one hand he was scared of putting her off, scaring her away if he was too much. But then what if he wasn't enough? She’d made her interest clear, been open and honest with him like the angel she was. She wasn't leaving him second guessing that she wanted to see him again and he decided to pull deep inside himself for some confidence. If she was brave enough to admit it, then he could fucking text her and be honest.

'Miss you too. Going to sleep without you isn't quite the same'

Before he could overthink it, he hit send, locking his phone and resting it face down on his bare chest. He blinked tiredly at the ceiling, the shadows cast from the TV dancing across the cream expanse. He always felt out of sorts when he was on leave, never really knew what to do with himself. He spent a lot of time working out, refusing to let his body go, needed to be in tip top condition for when he went back. But he didn't have a job when he was on leave, didn't really have anyone to spend it with. He’d see Tommy when he could, even popped around to see Beth sometimes when Tommy was working, or his mum. Other than that, his days were spent doing little else but wasting away alone in his apartment. 

He wondered how Charlotte would react if he turned up at her work one day for lunch. Wondered if she had a little uniform or not. Wondered if she’d treat him the same as all the other customers or give him a little extra treatment. He wondered when her days off were, if it was just the weekend or if it was some kind of rota. Wondered when he’d get to spend a whole day and night with her again. He was broken from his thoughts when his phone buzzed on his chest. He tried to temper down the excitement buzzing under his skin as he unlocked it. 

'I should have locked you in, then you'd have no choice to stay. I’d employ you as my own personal teddy bear but I could only pay you in bacon butties '

Something fluttered in his stomach as he read it, that smirk still pulling at his lips as if they'd been threaded with string and a puppet master was toying with him. She'd wanted him to stay. Should he have left? He could have just stayed again, maybe get up with her in the morning and gone home. He cursed himself for jumping the gun like he had, worried he'd be in her way and annoy her. 

If anyone else had called him a teddy bear, he might have wanted to deck them, but this was Charlotte and he found a pleasant warmth enveloping him. If she wanted him to be her teddy bear, he'd gladly do it. He'd be anything she fucking wanted him to be as long as she smiled at him like she did. As long as she made him feel like he mattered. That he meant something. 

'Wouldn't have protested too much if you wanted to keep me prisoner, love. Although payment in bacon butties doesn't sound bad, don't think it could count as payment if I've got to make them myself'

When he sent the message, he turned over on his side feeling his eyes getting heavy. He forced them to stay awake though, not wanting to miss a reply. His sleep schedule was usually pretty solid, wanting to keep it strict so it wasn't so jarring when he went back to work. He didn't really do late nights often since he was always up at 6am at the latest to start his morning workout. The routine has been disrupted this past weekend and he found tiredness settling deep in his bones. His phone buzzed in his hand and he blinked rapidly to clear the sleepiness out of his eyes.

'You can't offer to make bacon butties just to throw it in my face, sir. That's an incredibly unkind thing to do to a lady'

'You're a lady?'

' :o fine, maybe I'll just be really busy when you want to meet up. Maybe I should be someone's else's good girl instead…'

He knew she was pressing his buttons on purpose, bantering with him, but he still felt something run right through him that burned red hot in his veins. Before he could process what his tired brain was doing, he hit call. It only rang once before she picked up. 

“Hello, Simon,” he could hear the smile on her voice and she sounded adorably sleepy. He could just picture her wrapped up like a little burrito in bed, her cherubic face poking out the quilt. He longed to be there to witness it. 

“Tryin’ to wind me up, sweetheart?” He rasped, his tired voice sounding even lower than usual. She hummed softly down the phone and the noise soothed something in him. 

“Is it working?” She asked cheekily and he chuckled, moving to lay on his back. His eyes traced the ceiling, looking at the spot where the paint was peeling slightly. He hadn't cared enough to fix it. 

“What do you think?” He asked sarcastically and she snorted down the line. 

“Glad to know it's so easy to push your buttons. You shouldn't worry though, I'm you're good girl,” he could hear her fucking smirk through the phone and he groaned, throwing his spare arm over his eyes.

“You're evil, you know that? I'm too fuckin' tired to deal with a stiffy right now,” he huffed, willing his dick to calm itself before it got too excited. 

“Well… if I was there I could have dealt with it for you,” she replied easily and he almost whined. Almost. 

“You sound knackered, love. Don't think you'd be in any state to deal with anythin’,” he remarked dryly and her pretty little laugh floated through the phone and it didn't help his current situation. 

“Guess you're right. But I could just lay there and let you do all the work. Let you use my body, take what you want from me,” she seemed bolder when she was tired, or maybe this was just how she was. Shy one minute, a brazen minx the next. Either way, her words affected him more than he'd like to admit. Wasn't sure if that made him a bit sick in the head to get off on the idea. Of holding her down and using her pretty little body for his own pleasure. He did enjoy the thought though, very much so. But then again, she must have too or she wouldn't have said it with that silky soft tone. 

“You like that idea, sweetheart?” He drawled, his breathing heavy as he tried to ignore the heat stirring in his lower belly. Tired to ignore the ache of his cock that had been spoiled this weekend and now felt neglected. He really was too tired to deal with it. He heard her little sharp intake of breath, could picture her cheeks all pink and pretty for him. Her wide eyes, bright blue hidden by the black of her pupils as they overtook them. 

“Maybe…” she replied, now sounding shy again. Had she realised the dirty little secret she shared with him in her sleepy state? He stored that information away for another time. 

“You should get some rest, Lottie. You'll be dead on your feet in the mornin’,” he murmured softly. He didn't want her to be tired at work. She let out a little noise, a mix between a hum and a whine, telling him she didn't want to end the call as much as he didn't. It soothed something in him to know she was in the same boat as him. Made the whole experience a little less scary. 

“I guess,” was she pouting? Sounded like she was. 

“Get some good rest, yeah?” He sighed, not liking the painful tugging in his chest at the idea of hanging up. 

“I'll try, you too. Goodnight, Simon,” she said softly.

“Goodnight, love,” he replied before forcing himself to hang up. He didn't want to become one of those couples that did the whole ‘no you hang up’ bullshit, but he was starting to understand it. Starting to understand all the stupid shit he'd been forced to witness when Beth or his mum had a fucking romcom on. Not that he and Charlotte were a couple anyway, not yet at least. He'd never had a girlfriend before and the idea of having someone to call his own was a foreign concept. He'd never really desired it until now, but he wanted her, wanted her completely, wanted her to be his. 

She was driving him fucking mad. Like some kind of siren, luring him to a rocky death with her enticing call that he was powerless against. In a few short days she'd managed to worm her way through a crack in his walls, taking up residence in his hollow chest and warming it up in ways he didn't think possible. He was well and truly fucked. A realisation that was only solidified when he woke up the next morning to a mess in his bed after he'd rut against the mattress in his sleep. 

It was Wednesday. It had been three days since he’d seen Charlotte but the pair had established a routine. They text each other throughout the day, although Charlotte’s responses were a bit sparse and unpredictable. She wasn't allowed her phone at work so she snuck a text to him when she got the chance and he was grateful. When she’d get in bed, knackered from a hard day's work, she’d give him a call. He enjoyed their little chats as they got to know each other better. All surface level stuff really, but it kept it safe. 

He’d got to know quite a bit about her. Favourite colour was sage green and she loved earthy tones. She loved to read, her favourite being Grimm’s fairy tales. She’d briefly mentioned how she’d used it as an escape after stealing the book from the library when she was young. When he’d try to pry for more info, she’d clammed up and he realised her past was a sore spot. He knew that all too well. 

Found out she loved Italian food, bolognese being her favourite. She loved to make art in her spare time and had designed all her own tattoos herself. She told him she’d recently got a tablet and was doing digital art and she liked it better, was able to correct mistakes a lot easier and had every colour at her fingertips, she’d said. Her favourite bands were Placebo and Nine Inch Nails, the former being the ones to own the quote inked on the inside of her left arm. 

She loved plants but struggled to keep them alive, she’d called herself a well meaning plant killer and it had made him laugh. She said that's why she stuck to succulents, she was less likely to murder them. She had a thing for the weird and macabre, collecting oddities and curiosities like taxidermy shit. He felt like he was collecting little fragments of her, tiny puzzle pieces to make up the bigger picture of who she was. He adored hearing her ramble about the things she was passionate about. 

He’d been itching to see her again, but everytime he worked up the courage to ask about seeing her at work or after work one day, he wound up not saying anything when he heard how tired the poor girl was from work. He didn't want to bother her, yet waiting for weekend was dragging painfully slow. He only had until Sunday before his two week leave was over, then he’d be back on base. Usually he stayed there at the barracks since he didn't really have a reason not to. He only really used his apartment when he was on leave if he was honest, but now, feeling like he had something worth coming back for, he wondered if that would change. 

Fulwood Base was in Preston, 45 minutes away on the train from his place. It had never been worth the effort to come home when he was done at 5pm everyday or on weekends when he was off so he’d usually stay in his assigned room, just hang out on base. He couldn't imagine that now and he was just glad his base wasn't even further away. It wouldn't be hard to get the train back to Manchester when he wanted to see Charlotte and he knew he’d be staying home on the weekends now. Unless he was at hers.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t get her out of his fucking brain like a worm that had eaten its way through his grey matter to take residence in his skull. Three days was far too long for his liking so he decided to make an executive decision. He was going to visit her at work. Wasn't like he had anything else better to do anyway other than sit around and be bored and lonely. He figured mooching around town wouldn’t hurt him, look around the shops a bit since his mum's birthday was coming up and then grab a bite to eat at the Cafe where she worked. He was a little nervous about how she'd react to seeing him but he was a brave man, he was in the army for fuck sake, he could do this. 

He had a small bag in his hand from Warren James, got his mother a nice silver bracelet. He’d also ordered a cooking set, a bunch of pans and shit that she’d had her eye on from Argos. He wanted to get her more but the woman didn't really want for much. He eyed the door to the Cafe, watching some people eat and drink at the tables outside before he looked back at the door. He’d never been inside, wasn’t sure what to expect as he pushed open the door. It turned out a lot nicer than what he thought, nicer than the typical cafe he’d been to now and again. There was a small area on the level you walked in on with tables all full, then there were about six steps to take you up to the main area. Looked more like a restaurant than a cafe in his opinion. 

He trudged his way up the stairs, eyes darting around as he looked for Lottie, but he couldn’t see her as he moved to sit at a small table in the corner. He watched as other servers all bustled about, all dressed in black pants and a black button up shirt. he presumed it was the uniform. He fidgeted with the menu in his hands, not really paying attention as he desperately tried to find her. She came out the back then, a smile on her face as she expertly manoeuvred around the tables with two large plates balanced in her hands. She had the uniform on and her hair was in two plaits either side of her head with a few stray bits framing her face. She was fucking beautiful. 

She stopped at a table with an elderly couple on it, too far to hear what she said but close enough to see her pretty smile as she spoke to them. She looked up then, as if some gravitational pull was tugging at her, and when her eyes met his, she froze for a moment. Dread seized him, wondering if he’d made a mistake, wondering if he’d crossed a line, but then a blinding smile took over her face and she practically bounced her way over like a kid excited on christmas. 

“Hello there, sir. What can I get you today?” she asked brightly, a cheeky smile on her face that made him feel all hot from the inside out. 

“Not really sure, any recommendations?” he asked with a raised brow. He didn't think it possible but she seemed to smile harder as she leaned her hands on his table, lowering her head down to him a little.

“I hear the Charlotte’s pretty tasty,” she smirked and he almost choked on his own breath at her remark, chuckling as he tilted his head at her. Cheeky little thing she was, he loved it.

“Is that right?” he drawled and her eyes twinkled mischievously. She leaned in, surprising him with a kiss. He hadn't expected any PDA, was never really a fan of it but he didn't even know what they were. A one night stand that wouldn't end? Friends with benefits? It was all too soon to tell so he hadn’t expected her to kiss him in her work place like this. Like she wasn't embarrassed to be around a man like him. Like she wanted to show him off. And fuck, he didn’t mind one bit. 

He grabbed her face before she could pull away, kissing her deeply and allowing himself to taste her, explore her mouth as he’d missed her these past few days. When she pulled away, she looked dazed and cleared her throat with pink cheeks. Almost done him in when she bit down on her lower lip, looking at him through her lashes like some demure little bird. She was lucky he didn’t bend her over the fucking table and take her for everyone to see when she was playing coy like this. 

She moved to plonk on the seat in front of him then, giving him a little smile.

“In all seriousness, you’d like the steak if you're hungry. If not, the sandwiches are good for lunch. It's all pretty good,” she shrugged, resting her chin on her hand as she fluttered her lashes at him. She looked so happy to see him and it warmed his dead heart. 

“I’ll have the steak then, love. And a coke,” he nodded and she grinned, grabbing her pad from her breast pocket and scribbling the order down. 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she smiled, jumping from her seat and hurrying into the back. 

He felt far more relaxed now, knowing she wanted him here, that she didn't have a problem with it. It made him feel better that he could drop in and see her when he wanted. The kiss had made it all well worth it. She came back out after a few minutes and he watched her flit around behind the counter, grabbing a can of coke out of the fridge and then pouring it into a glass with ice. She wandered over, glass in one hand, cutlery in the other and she set it all out in front of him. When she was done, she hovered next to him for a moment as she toyed with her hands.

“Do you wanna see a movie this Saturday?” she blurted and it caught him off guard. Was she asking him on a date? If she was, that was embarrassing, he was the one who was supposed to ask her. Seemed she had more balls than him once again. 

“What movie?” he asked, cringing internally. He had no idea why he’d fucking asked ‘cause it didn’t really matter, did it? She could ask him to watch a sickening romance movie with her and he’d do it with a smile on his face if it meant he got to spend time with her. She shifted on her feet and chewed on her lower lip.

“Final Destination 3 is coming out and I really wanna see it,” she shrugged, trying to act like she wasn't fussed but the blush on her cheeks told him otherwise. He’d never seen the movies but he knew about them. Shouldn't have been surprised she liked scary movies, although he was sure they wouldn't be his idea of scary.

“I’d uh… I‘d like that,” he admitted and instantly, her face lit up like the sun on a rainy day and he felt like he was free falling. 

“Great! I’ll check the times and stuff and let you know,” she beamed and he nodded, excitement curling low in his belly at the idea of going out with her.

“We could get food after… if you wanted,” he suggested and she nodded eagerly.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” she grinned.

“Charlotte!” The pair looked over as an older woman looked at her expectantly and Charlotte blew out a sigh, practically pouting at him.

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll bring your food out when it's done and don’t leave without saying bye, yeah?” she asked hopefully.

“Wouldn't dream of it, love,” he replied with an easy smile and she bit her lower lip with a smile before flitting off. He couldn’t help but watch every time she floated around the place, giving out food, taking orders, tidying tables. It didn't take too long before she made her way over to him with a large plate in her hands.

“Here you go, one steak,” she set it down in front of him. It looked fucking delicious and his mouth watered at the sight, his hunger making itself known tenfold. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he smiled up at her, making her smile back.

“You're very welcome,” she grinned before she was off again. 

He enjoyed his food, devouring it in a way that would put Charlotte to shame when she ate his bacon butties. Was one of the best steaks he’d ever fucking had and he made a note he needed to come here more often, not just for his girl. He was absolutely stuffed and leaned back in his chair, once again watching her easily move through the place. When she caught his eye, he gestured with his head and she hurried over to him.

“Take it you enjoyed it then?” she asked with a knowing smirk as she eyed his very empty plate.

“Was delicious. Compliments to the chef,” he murmured and she smiled to herself.

“I’ll let him know. He doesn’t get people bothering to thank him often so he’ll appreciate it. I’ll grab your bill for you,” she was off again with his plate and he watched her go behind the counter, grabbing his order ticket from where it was pinned up. She grabbed a pen from the counter and scribbled something onto it before making her way over. She set the receipt down on a tiny little plate and he picked it up, snorting a laugh as he read her little scribble.

‘Taste of Charlotte - £0 ;)’

Reading the total on the receipt, he grabbed the money from his wallet, making sure to leave her a tip as he put the money on the plate. He pocketed the receipt as he stood from his chair, grabbing the bag of jewellery that had been by his feet. Charlotte blinked up at him now he was towering over her and she gave him a pretty smile. He used his spare hand to cup her cheek and her eyes fluttered closed as he leaned down, his mouth brushing her ear.

“Hopefully I’ll get a better taste this Saturday, yeah?” he purred and smirked at her sharp intake of breath. He moved away just enough to eye her, watching how she flushed a deep pink, how her pupils dilated. Such a responsive little thing she was. 

He leaned in, capturing her lips without care for the audience. He couldn't help it, no one else mattered but her. She clutched his shirt, pressing herself closer to him as she kissed him back greedily and he had to hold back a moan, reminding himself they were in fact in public. At her place of work no less. He forced himself to pull away, didn't fancy having blue balls until this weekend. He had to wind his fucking neck in. She hummed softly, blinking those dazed eyes at him with a smile painted on her lips.

“Can I still call you later?” she asked and he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“Be disappointed if you didn't, love,” he replied, stroking her cheek with his thumb before he reluctantly pulled away. 

“Talk to you later then,” she smiled and he nodded, pressing his lips to her forehead for good measure before he forced himself to leave. 

He felt an odd mix of feelings as he left the building. The same heaviness he felt the last time he’d left her, that crippling loneliness suddenly seizing him in a choke hold, but then there was excitement for what was to come. She wanted to see him again, asked him out. It felt like maybe it could go somewhere. that maybe it could be more than whatever this limbo was they were in currently. He felt like someone different, a wholly new man as he walked down the street with a stupid smile playing on his lips. He didn’t know who he was but he sure as shit didn’t feel like Simon fucking Riley.

[tarot-by-e11e]

Hey babe! How are you? I am here for your new gamee!

- Initials and 5 most emojis you've recently used:JD,😭😺🌈✨😎

- 3 things about you that you're learning to love about yourself more and your actionable plans to achieve that

My maths skills-ok hear me out ok.I thought I sucked at maths but I actually don't? Like it is subject that now seems easy for me.So with more practice,I am aiming to be better in maths.

My creative side-So my creative side was like not really allowed to grow,so I am trying to take on more creative projects to balance it out.

My 'feminine' side-So I was brought up to you know believe that being girly would make me appear weak but now I know it's bullshit so I am working on it.

- your unexpectedly favorite song in your playlist that your closest friends never expected you to be into

Animals by maroon five,Starboy by Weeknd

- Answer this question:

"What's your most important goal that you want to achieve within the last few months of the year?"

Getting into a good college so I can travel,controlling my anger,being a better person.

Thank you in advance!

Hi JD,

Thank you so much for participating in my new ask game.

I love how practical your first goal is, math skills are crucial yet not alot of people show appreciation for it!

Also, I love how you are learning to love and hone both your left and right brain!! Keep it up!!

Yes!!! I'm cheering for you wanting to be in your soft girl era~

The song is amazing! I have in my playlist too!!

Here's to hoping and wishing you achieve your goals for the year!!

These are the cards I pulled out for you: 9 of Swords, Ace of Cups, 6 of Coins

The first card suggests that you learn to free yourself from the chokehold of your own anxiety. It seems that your nightmares are pointing out which part of your life that your subconscious is asking you to look into and change.

A good way to figure this out is have a dream journal and write whatever you can remember of the dream you had the night before. Don't let yourself drown in your own despair, is the strongest message I can hear from this card.

The next card is asking you to be open to love and happiness. Let yourself get creative. And I love how you mentioned in your list of things you're wanting to learn to love about yourself is your creative side!!! The card is in full support in your decision about this!

I heard that you should search up ways to beat procrastination for artists. Like how to get out of a creative block. There's tons of videos on YouTube about it, so just go do your research and experiment which strategy works well for you!

Finally, the last card is asking you to be generous towards yourself. It's great how you want to give back to others, but never forget that you can't pour from an empty cup. So make sure you have enough, and you've had your fill first, before considering on pouring onto others.

This is as far as I could interpret for your reading. Thank you so much for being my participant!

Feel free to tip me in my Buy me a Coffee account (to show support) ahehe [Not required, but most grateful if you did]~ (This reading is for entertainment purposes only)

[vy-tachibana]

dp x dc fic idea

(Spoiler for Sandman Comics)

So this is a Danny Phantom x The Sandman crossover

Danny is King of the Infinite Realms

which is the dimension of the in-between, pocket gaps between different realities, where everything that ends begins again, etc.

Danny is one of Death of the Endless' favorite children though he is both her's and not her's at the same time

Anyways they have a working relationship because Danny rules over all who have been touched by the Lady Death and the Ghost Zone is kinda sorta where she takes everybody when they die

I'm going off the au that because it's the INFINITE realms, when people die they just go to whatever portion of the realms coincides with what they believe

also you know, not everyone becomes ghosts because there has to be enough ectoplasm when they died for them to form a ghost core and well not all ghosts ever lived

Morpheus dies (he planned it, in case you didn't know) and Daniel Hall becomes the next incarnation of Dream of the endless

I'm also gonna go out and say that Danny and Morpheus have met before because Nocturne is actually a conglomeration of all of Dream's nightmares that have died, by his hand or not

this is going off the assumption that everything in the world has a little ectoplasm, just usually miniscule amounts and that when anything meets its end the bits of ectoplasm it contains eventually makes its way to the Infinite Realms

so Nocturne is made of those multiple small bits of ectoplasm Dream's nightmares

and before Dream got characer development, the nightmares honestly did not have it the best which is why Nocturne was one of the more antagonistic/dangerous ghosts

but yeah so Danny knew Morpheus and they teamed up at some point because of Nocturne

I actually like the idea more that Danny was scolding Morpheus for his treatment of his Nightmares and the clear discrimination between Dreams and Nightmares and that if someone doesn't want to be a Nightmare they shouldn't have to choose between doing something they don't want to do or getting their existence ended (wow does Danny know how that feels)

and Morpheus recreated some of his creations like Corinthian but those are different incarnations, so kinda sorta the same being but also not

it doesn't matter, it doesn't erase what happened

Danny totally crashed Morpheus' castle somehow

Morpheus was definitely like, "You, a human child who once dreamt of nothing but the stars and now only has nightmares of a future that may come to pass (aka Dan, or getting dissected by his own parents, or the collapse of reality as we know it because humans found a way to break into the Ghost Zone and eradicate all the ghosts) would lecture me on the creatures that torment you? I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, who has existed far longer than you could possibly comprehend, and you would dare?"

Danny I'm-too-tired-to-deal-with-another-godlike-entities-bullshit-again Fenton is like "Hey! I'm a half-dead child. Get it right. And you totally deserve this dude. I mean I finally had a talk with Nocturn after the Pariah Dark situation, which was not easy mind you, about his whole forcing people to sleep to absorb Dream Energy. His entire being is totally your fault. And your treatment of beings that you created from scratch who are essentially your children is terrible. My parent's are a constant danger to my very existence but at least I know they care about me unlike you and yours. And also...."

they totally became friends because Danny is that type of annoying that grows on you like a fungus and it helps that he's functionally immortal and has seen and experienced the worst of humanity (as well as other beings) and is the all-powerful Ghost King

anyways Danny goes to Morpheus' wake and as Lady Death, in her red dress, bids goodbye to her brother's body floating away into eternity to become one of the stars in the sky Phantom tells her

"Worry not, Mother of my core, I shall take him into my care just as I do all you have brought to my realm and one day, when you lay a final night's kiss upon this universe, you shall join us there until the time for a new Universe's dawn"

"...human child who once dreamt nothing but the stars..."

"Sleep well, my friend as you rest amongst the stars."

[fullsunrise]

Playing With Fire - Preview

Pairing: Johnny x Original female character

Genre: Office AU, Romance, Angst

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Johnny is a bully

There was nothing quite like early winter in the city, with the twinkling lights tangled in the bare trees and a to-go coffee that was almost too hot. This early in the morning, there was no one around. It was calming, and Nari wanted to appreciate the silence before all hell broke loose. She sat on the unoccupied bench outside of her building, savoring the last five minutes she had until she had to face her worst nightmare. That nightmare happened to have a name: Johnny.

Johnny Suh from Sales. Even thinking about him made Nari’s eye twitch. Ever since she was forced to work with him on her latest project, he made it his sole mission to make her life a living hell. Never once in Nari’s career has she had to work with someone so egotistical, cunning, and above all else: annoyingly attractive.

Although she had been working at her company for the last two years, she had never heard of him. Not until she saw an unfamiliar name CC’d on an email from her boss. Confused, she made her way to her boss’s office.

“He's been here almost as long as you have, I believe,” her boss told her. “Great guy, it should be a breeze working with him.”

It was hilarious how wrong he was. Nari’s reality was most definitely not a breeze, but more like a hurricane. Whatever higher being set this up was surely laughing at her now as she struggled against the powerful storm.

To stand any chance, Nari knew she needed any advice she could get. And who else was more equipped than Jaehyun? After years of working at law firms across the city, Nari was sure he was the only person who could understand how to deal with egotistical monsters.

“I'm just saying, maybe try to avoid any interactions with the guy. I mean he's clearly a prick,” Jaehyun said, then took a sip of his beer.

“Trust me, I've been trying to avoid him but it's impossible when we have to work directly together,” Nari replied.

It was hopeless. Johnny was too smart. Careful not to push it too far, he was only condescending to her face. He made sure his actions spoke for him, though. Like last week when he went out to lunch with their project team, he accidentally forgot to invite her. And just a day ago, she swore he was whispering about her to another coworker in the kitchen. Then he laughed loud enough for Nari to hear, only confirming her suspicions. It was subtle, but enough to make her go insane.

“Don't let him get to you,” Jaehyun offered. “You know he's only doing this because he feels threatened by you.”

Threatened? Why would Johnny be threatened by her? Nothing about her was particularly threatening. Sure, Nari was good at her job but she never did anything that would cause someone to dislike her. And certainly she would never step on anyone just to get a promotion. In her corporate life, Nari made sure to remain honest, social, and professional. Unlike Johnny, who couldn't have a more opposite approach.

“I’ll try,” she replied. “But enough about me. How's it going in your world?”

“Same ol’ bullshit as always,” he chuckled.

They spoke about their jobs for a while longer, laughing at random anecdotes from the week. Nari didn't speak about Johnny again, and shortly the thought of him was washed down along with her Gin and tonic. Somewhere between her first and third drinks, Jaehyun asked her how her dating life had been. It caught her off guard only for a moment as she reached for an answer in her muddled brain. With her thoughts slowed, the best she managed to pull was a horrific yet comical dating story. Jaehyun laughed along with her and shared his own. It was always weird talking about her love life with Jaehyun but it was still nice nonetheless. But she would never get used to it, even though there were no lingering feelings left between them.

Nari came back to her apartment feeling a bit lighter after seeing Jaehyun. While he helped her forget about Johnny momentarily, Nari dreaded tomorrow. It was the day of the company holiday party. Normally Nari looked forward to it every year, but the idea of running into Johnny made her stomach churn. Sure, there were going to be a lot of employees and plus ones but the chance of seeing him wasn't zero.

[meanscarletdeceiver]

I've begun think about wanderlust James once again, and I have to wonder, how would Nobby react to James? Furthermore, I wonder if he intentionally didn't really try to get along with anyone else at other sheds so that when he left, he wouldn't really feel bad about it?

Also I just think it's funny that the furness lot think they've finally gotten rid of him after ejecting him off to No-Where, but he turns up back at Barrow a week later with the express in his dazzling new colors and the smuggest face in the world lol. +10 points if "NWR Red" is actually just Furness red that the LMS chucked out due to the grouping but the NWR stole took and gave to James just to rub salt in the wound lol.

Sooososososo THE THING YOU MUST UNDERSTAND ABOUT NOBBY AND JAMES goes back to F.R. culture. The F.R. is honestly a very solidly above-average home for an engine—there is a strong railway culture, the place is big enough that there's plenty of work and money (apart from massive downturns in the steel trade, lol) and at the same time it's small enough that Management (and Nobby) is pretty well aware of every engine, certainly of every shed.

But being small enough to have its own distinct culture and norms also means that it's small enough to, you know. Be stifling.

There are certain things that F.R. engines just Do Not Talk About. They don't even Mention. That no one ever says aloud. Things such as any resentment about the way humans have trained the engines to know their place (which will crop up a bit soon in Springtime). Things such as scrap and death (which will come up in the next story in the series). And this includes the patent reality that Nobby—or, at least, Management's idea of Old Coppernob, which is quite distinct from the Nobby under the mask—is held up to the engines as a role model, as the exemplar they should aspire to, and truly the engines do admire Coppernob, he's genuinely beloved... but, for all that, the whole static-preservation-under-glass thing is horrifying. The engines know this damn well. But—they are not going to let on. Expressing any pity for Nobby is unthinkable. Because he wouldn't take kindly to it, of course, but also because to acknowledge that Management's grandest reward for loyalty is a living nightmare just strikes at the heart of their entire society.

So, yeah. They're all nice, well-bred sort of engines who will never address the elephant in the room. (You can really see the continuity here with Edward believing that throwing out a "Peep peep! Hullo! 😊" to a miserable engine interred in a tunnel and then just moving on with your day is an absolutely normal and appropriate thing to do.)

Then you have James.

Who has no... okay, I actually think he has some filter, really. But he's completely outside of this unspoken conspiracy of polite silence. He's a deeply opinionated engine who hasn't been indoctrinated and who calls it like he sees it.

The moment he sees Nobby, he's basically like (and very loudly and shrilly) 'Okay but WHAT THE FUCK????? Jesus, Mary, and Lady, did you like KILL AN ENTIRE TRAIN OF PASSENGERS or something???? Bullshit this is an honour. Who the HELL did you piss off, mate??'

This instant violation of every norm they possess does not endear James to most of the F.R. engines, who are horrified at this display.

But Nobby himself?

The absolute almost hysterical breath of fresh air it is to have someone SAY IT.

Not that James won't get under his paintwork sometimes, but honestly Nobby can't help but respect like have a soft spot take a mild interest in the L. & Y. engine after that.

--

Haha. I don't think James was intentionally trying to alienate other engines. I think he just never really learned.

And I don't want to say James never had a friend, or at least another engine he was on decent terms with, before Sodor. But... it IS fair to say that he didn't have any good friends. Sodor taught him everything he knows about community. I actually have to give Gordon of all engines some credit here, because his bossiness actually made many of the unspoken and confusing rules of Getting Along with The Rest of the Community explicit to James for the first time ("Gordon thinks he knows everything," moans James, who had to be taught how to share and take turns and not ask unfamiliar engines why their face looks like that by Gordon over the course of the past 25+ years).

--

That is the funniest image. I don't think it went down quite like that, but it is funny.

I'm seeing it as a bit of a gradual process. I think James starts to gravitate towards Edward and Edward makes his brothers and cousins start tolerating James, but it all happens slowly since Edward is coming over-the-bridge only on occasion. But they have so much in common right now and I think Edward would have a lot of empathy for James's position—this is '24-'25 and Edward is fresh off his own experience of being despised in his own shed, and not quite being wanted anywhere, and having to prove himself and carve out a role for himself. (The line "Good! Don't let them beat you" is *such* an insight to their apparent friendship at the point of James's arrival.) So at the point where they get around to "you couldn't get me a trial on Sodor, could ya mate?" I don't think anyone is surprised. It's just so obvious that, if James belongs anywhere, it's on Insane Circus Misfit Island.

If N.W.R. red were actually Furness red (I'm not planning on going that way, but if it were), OMG, it would be a double insult to the Sharpies since they had to trade their F.R. red for L.M.S. black after Grouping. Salt in the wound. God, James is so good at making himself popular!

[catcake24]

I have a Sun and Moon show AU, and since I likely won’t do much with it, I’m gonna copy my notes on it here in case other people like it :) (might make some art for it later idk)

I’ve had this bouncing around in my head and I need to write it down, pls bear with me

The base idea is that Lord Eclipse, an alternate version of the Eclipse who Won but never met our Moon, is extremely bored with his world and decides to spice it up. He lets go and revives many of his enemies, including Monty, and revives both Moon and Lunar. He also makes himself the Lord Supreme, basically a god king with divine right to rule, and lives in a giant palace with a full staff and Sun as his faithful advisor and attendant, placing himself as the god king of a whole new earth instead of just a city.

Backstory

Eclipse - He has the typical backstory as any Eclipse, but since Moon never visited he just kept going on with what he was doing and got bored no matter what he did. He tortured Sun over and over, he subjected his enemies to humiliation, he could control everything exactly as he wanted, but he wasn’t happy. He eventually secludes himself in a giant castle, his city expanded much more than it was before for the sake of self sustaining, and rots away and watches old entertainment from the world before. One day, he becomes inspired by watching some old period dramas to completely remake the world and become a god king - hoping people coming to overthrow him and some controlled chaos would bring him entertainment.

Over the years he also grew more fond of Sun than he would like to admit, so he decided to trust Sun as his right hand in this new world.

He revived Moon for the challenge, throwing him into the world with almost no memory for Monty to find and help him. Now Moon is a freedom fighter, working with almost every character we know and more to overthrow Eclipse, but has no memory of Sun. This leaves almost a gaping hole inside him, one which Eclipse relishes in.

He also Revived Lunar because…. He missed him. In his own twisted way he liked Lunar but also doesn’t know how to express it now so he makes Sun Lunar’s caretaker and tutor as Lunar is now the prince of this world. He has unlimited games and many lavish things, but also has to attend lessons from Sun and go out on occasion with Eclipse for royal stuff.

Sun - His memory was wiped over and over again as Eclipse toyed with him and tortured him over the years, however what he remembers now is actually close to some version of the truth.

When Eclipse first took over, he dumped Sun in his city and left him to try and survive and ruined his life whenever possible. Sun came to believe he had a curse, eventually causing him to lash out with his magic and destroy a whole block. He is horrified, breaking down in sobs, when Eclipse appears out of the smoke to take advantage of this situation.

“Are you Lord Eclipse?! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“If you didn’t mean to, it wouldn’t have happened.” “But, it can be fixed.” Using the star, Eclipse restores the area and everyone in it. Sun is amazed.

“I can help you, come with me and I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone again.” Eclipse says, and Sun agrees. It’s why he put up with so much bullshit, abuse, and torture from Eclipse, along with him being ultra powerful.

Now sun remembers this, with new stitched together memories of previous versions where he gained control over his powers, came to like Eclipse as he secluded himself away from the world, and now he is the trusted advisor of Eclipse’s who takes care of the “newly created” Prince Lunar. Sun doesn’t understand why Eclipse remade the world again, expanding it much more, but he doesn’t question his Lord.

Lunar - He has little to no memory of before. Maybe nightmares or vague impressions, but nothing more. He also has much more power now, not quite at the level of Sun but strong enough to not be easily killed by anyone except Eclipse. He is very much how he was like before, only with a lot more affection for Sun as basically his one friend. He is the prince of this world, theoretically meant to succeed Eclipse (but that’s never happening) and usually only sees Eclipse during public events where he has to be present.

Moon - He has some vague memories, but doesn’t remember Sun or any specifics enough for it to matter. He’s basically this universe’s New Moon, as Eclipse didn’t want to bring back a threat as big as Killcode or for any more unexpected siblings to start running around. He was found by Monty and his ragtag group of freedom fighters, and quickly becomes an agent of this rebel group. He eventually poses and disguises himself as a servant inside the giant palace right under Eclipse’s nose.

Character

Eclipse - Currently he is just very tired and jaded, but with all the work of being god king he has something to do at least. He’s also very patient with people around him, as now he has kind of grown past his childish revenge tendencies after years and years of indulgence. He’s not a good person, but he’s less openly awful when he can to keep everything moving.

He is often busy, meaning Lunar and Sun usually spend time together and only occasionally does Lunar see Eclipse. However he is always happy to see him, and Eclipse does his best to restrain himself - he even gives Lunar candy when he’s “good” (or what Eclipse deems good.)

Sun - He’s extremely loyal to Eclipse, and sees Lunar as his own kid in many ways. He doesn’t know why, but he’s just so happy to care for someone and help teach him that he’s much more cheerful recently.

He doesn’t like any rebels though, seeing them as scum and wanting to ruin his generous Lord’s perfect world.

He’s also very skilled at ice magic, and can freeze everyone in a whole ballroom if he wanted to. He’s basically Elsa in terms of what his ice magic can do, and it’s his specialty even though he does use other forms of magic less often. He is still training and learning, but is a diligent practicer. (Subconsciously, he thinks that he needs to be ready for something. That he promised someone important he would help them, even with his difficulties with magic. He doesn’t remember who, It was someone important though.)

Lunar - Same lunar as always, very cheerful, sassy, and immature. He is very curious about the world as a whole and can’t shake an aching feeling deep in his chest, but not sure why. He is very close with Sun, seeing him as his older brother and even a parental figure in some ways, and Sun is basically his one friend in the palace aside from the employees.

Moon - He is all about Justice and recovering his old memories. He knows Sun was his brother in another world, but doesn’t really like to think about it because of how he sees Sun as Eclipse’s lackey. That is, Until Moon poses as an employee and uses a disguise to hide his notable features. He meets Sun this way, and finds over time that he’s a really nice guy and takes care of all the staff really well. They form a bond during this time, with Moon being an inside agent while hiding it and Sun being the manager and highest authority aside from Eclipse or Lunar in the castle - and they form a strong friendship over time which causes Moon to be really conflicted about overthrowing everything because he knows he’ll have to kill Sun.

Some General Ideas:

- Eclipse, completely by accident, made Sun and Moon enemies with even opposite powers. However he does love the drama when he realizes what he set up, even setting it up so Rebel Moon and Servant Sun meet at certain times when they clash - he is genuinely unaware of moon infiltrating the castle though.

- In this world animatronics/robots are just normal citizens and apart of life here. The ones who were bio-mechanical from the old timeline are still that way, but everyone else is just mechanical.

- Animatronics build their kids in this world, which is a big event for them

- The world’s government is sorted into eight regions, seven ruled over by someone Eclipse selected, with the eighth region being the largest and ruled over by Eclipse himself. Each ruler reports back to Eclipse and rule on his behalf, and have varying opinions on how happy they are about it.

- Each region has their own biome and features, but laws are the same all around.

- There are nobility, however they are elected by popular vote and only live in their estates as long as they are voted in. Eclipse knows the key to keeping power is having the masses be happy, but also he just likes those kinds of dramas and likes to peek in for some entertainment while they all think this is a super serious system.

- All of this ‘government’ is a farce though, as Eclipse is the one in charge and just lets others be in control so he can have time to relax and watch the drama unfolding from all this. He liked dramas about royalty and nobility, so he made it real to get the MAXIMUM drama whenever he can. He doesn’t care about anyone, and if any of them tried to stage a coup he would make them disintegrate right then and there.

[tinkerbclla]

Heavy

A Steve Harrington Drabble

How can I brave this storm, when I just burn them trying to keep warm? It’s all I’ve been told, I’m heavy to hold.

It was hard for Steve to believe that he could ever be loved in the way that he wanted. It was his fault. After all, he was simply too heavy to hold. Even before all of the trauma that came with the Upside Down, before the nightmares and the torture and the demobat bites, he was unlovable then. He thinks he was born unlovable.

You see, his parents never truly had the time for him. He would watch as his friends’ parents would make the time for their children. How they would come home from work tired, exhausted even, and still make the effort to envelop their child in a warm embrace. How their friends seemed to believe it when their parents said they were the best thing to happen to them; how they even said that to their child at all. Steve’s parents had never even subtly implied he was more than a burden, both on their time and their finances. 

Perhaps if times had been different, Steve could have been let go by the Harringtons, placed with a family that truly loved him. But that life wasn’t meant for Steve, and it was his fault.

He was an emotional child. Too emotional. He had needs and wants that he couldn’t satiate on his own and he saw the grimaces that earned him from his parents, and then, from his romantic partners once he entered his teenage years. 

“You’re bullshit.”

If Nancy hadn’t said it, then his parents would have. Steve thinks maybe they did, and he blocked it out in a misguided attempt to protect himself, to imagine that he was wanted in some small way.

Bullshit.

It’s what Steve tells himself every time his heart gets away from him. He reminds himself of it now, while Eddie crosses his arms and frowns at him in that same way. He takes a step backwards, tries to soften the blow of the impending breakup somehow. He knows it’ll crush him; he knows it’s inevitable. Still, he doesn’t want it to come. Selfishly, he wants Eddie to stay. He wants someone to stay.

I’m hard to love, there’s no denying. If you’ve had enough, thanks for trying.

He’s not sure what started this particular fight any more. He just knows it’s one too many. One more time that Steve’s personality has pushed someone he loves away. It happens in the same way each time. Too many times. 

Steve braces himself for the end, not sure how he’ll survive this one. The love he feels for Eddie has been totally unrivalled by any other loves in his life. He suspects that he didn’t truly know what love truly felt like until he felt it with Eddie.

He’s surprised when strong arms wrap around him, holding him tight. They only squeeze tighter when he gasps, a sharp inhale that feels suspiciously close to tears. He thinks a few might have already spilled out, but he can’t be sure, can’t raise his hands to his cheek to check, Eddie’s holding him too tight.

“Why…?” Steve manages to breathe out.

“I can see you getting spooked, baby,” Eddie whispers, not breaking the fragile air around them. He doesn’t even speak loud enough to crack it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But…”

“But nothing,” Eddie interrupts him. “This isn’t like before. This isn’t bullshit.”

Steve isn’t sure when he told Eddie about the intricacies of his fight with Nancy, but he must have, or else Robin got herself involved. He wouldn’t be surprised. 

Hearing Eddie negate his worst fears makes the tears fall in earnest; Steve buries his head in his boyfriend’s chest and lets them come, while Eddie rubs soothing circles on his back, with promises of “I love you,” and “I’m right here.”

His breathing evens out eventually, and Eddie reminds him once again that he’s stuck with him for life.

Steve can only hope that it’s true.

***

Now on AO3!

[prettyflyshyguy]

Psst don't tell anyone but I'm cooking rn and you're all invited to have a slice when I'm done. Have a cheeky unhinged and unedited writing WIP from me really challenging myself today after watching half a 3hr long video essay that set my brain on fire. Needs work but I'm feeling Ok about it so far.

Maybe it’s the danger, he considered. It was a fabricated, separated thing. To be enjoyed inside the screen where it stayed, you were safe from the blood splatter and the pain and the suffering. You can take what you want and leave the rest, at least normal people could, he corrected. He wasn’t ever so lucky. Maybe it accounted for the frustration he felt, maybe it was a source of the resentment he was so deeply trying to quell as he walked. The world was an ugly and horrifying place as it was, even worse when you were cursed with the knowledge of what was also out there hiding in the shadows. He ducked into a back alley, away from the blinding sting of the street lights, away from the droves of pedestrians that stumbled drunkenly to their next destination. It’s got to be the danger. He’d had casual conversation with Lisa before about Ben’s father, letting his curiosity get the better of him, probing for information. A part of him still left unsure, or maybe he just still wanted to believe there was a chance it might’ve been him. He seemed like a dangerous guy, from what little information she offered. There was an allure to the mystery, the power, he’d admit that. He knew it excited people, he’d used it before a thousand times with women to great success - he played the part and reveled in it, but part of him was always left yearning. He could never truly be honest with anyone, not about what he did, who he was. Lisa was an outlier but even then, he had refrained from telling her everything. The lifestyle on the road, the pocket knife in his boot, the scars on his body, all left questions unspoken and unanswered - perhaps a thousand different stories were fabricated in the minds of the women he’d laid with before. None would be close to the truth. He was no stranger to fantasy, as Sam would often mistake his jokes for needing to be reminded there was a difference between what he watched after dark and how things played out in the real world. But this was different, this was crazy, this was about monsters. Monsters that ‘liked watching you sleep’. Monster’s that ‘might hurt you if you stay’. Monsters that ‘wan’t more than anything to bite you’.

He paused as he reached the end of the alley, lurking briefly in the shadow of a building as it draped him in comfort of his own isolation. Perhaps his complaints on the film were too harsh, perhaps there was an ounce of realism to its presentation. He moved to rest against the building wall, squinting out from the darkness into the brightly lit street spread out ahead of him. He pictured himself in Lisa’s bedroom, towering over her sleeping form in the dark. How must’ve she felt when she awoke. How scared she looked when he–

He violently slammed a fist into the wall beside him, cutting the thought short. It hardly hurt as much as he felt it ought to, which made him feel even worse. He vaguely recalled something Sam said when their investigation began, ‘when the fantasy becomes reality it’s a nightmare’. He’d brushed it off as some sappy academic bullshit at the time, giving it and anything else in regards to the topic no consideration. If glitter and halloween costume fangs were enough to get in someone’s pants, there was something to it, he admitted. But it was still a fantasy. A role play of sorts brought into the personal from the digital space. Maybe these girls never believed they were going to meet a real vampire, maybe all along it was just playing with the fantasy. Maybe they were expecting someone like the sparkly freak out the back of the bar that he had accosted before he got attacked. Perhaps they were just looking for a connection, someone that shared something with them in a life defined by social alienation, seeking it out through niche chat rooms in dark corners of the internet. He could reconcile with that.

His thoughts were interrupted briefly as a small crowd walked past on the sidewalk near where he was brooding. The overwhelming sound of laughter mixed with heartbeats made his head spin and his stomach churn, consuming his mind. They passed by quickly but the feeling in his body lingered long past when he couldn’t hear them any longer. If only people knew what it was really like. Deep down a part of him wished there was no cure, that it would be simple. He’d died once and Sam… survived, for lack of a better term. It would mean he didn’t have to live like this. An animal driven by an inescapable hunger hiding under the surface of a human facade.