#sorry if this doesn't make a lot of sense it's unedited

[manicpixiefelix]

all this, and love too (will ruin us)

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

Summary: The night of Oliver's party and both yours and Felix's moods are ruined upon finding out Oliver had been lying to you both for your entire friendship. While sticking with Felix all night to make sure he doesn't maim Oliver, Felix realises he doesn't like sharing you anymore. You're more than okay with this, but Oliver doesn't seem to be okay with sharing Felix, even if he has no say anymore. Canon tries to happen, but you get there first, so you kill the problem at it's source.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: MAZE SCENE; death, murder, violence, nongraphic smut, dominant felix, bathroom blowjob, oliver's birthday party situation, oliver being incredibly manipulative, reader being incredibly manipulative back at him, heavy drinking and drug use, You VIOLENTLY Murder Oliver Quick In The Maze.

A/N: 6074 words. oh god these oneshots are only getting longer and longer. whoops. but also PLEASE heed the warnings. this is the Reader Kills Oliver oneshot (first of two) that i was talking about. not sure how i feel about it. its very unedited.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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On the drive back from his parents' house, Oliver sits in the back. Like a scolded child he keeps his gaze low and voice even lower. None of you speak the entire drive back; you try and focus on the wind in your hair and the hum of the car and not how your stomach is turning. In your mind you see the connections as they light up, small things you'd missed, things that are starting to make a lot more sense.

You wonder what other lies you could have gotten ahead of if Oliver hadn't been so nervous about you going through his file at Oxford.

Every single thing about him was designed specifically to be appealing, to you, of course, but more importantly to Felix. It was meant to be you who knew it all, could see the full board and all the pieces the people around you moved; it was meant to be you who could plan well enough and see far enough out to keep Felix out of situations exactly like this.

Felix is curt and swift the moment he's out of the car, trying to escape Oliver who rushes after him, his desperation echoing through the halls. You're several steps behind Oliver, silent, watching the exchange, watching Oliver cling to an ever-dwindling hope for even friendship, as Felix calls out the weirdness of his ongoing lies, tearing that hope asunder.

"I just wanted to be your friend," is all Oliver can say when pressed about his lies. It's genuine, it breaks your heart, but it doesn't make it better. For a moment, you see conflict as it flashes across Felix's face, but he clearly can't do this right now, needing at least the night, but promising not to tell his family.

As you go to leave, go to follow him, Oliver catches your sleeve, holds it too tight for just a moment -

"I thought you knew," his voice wobbles, but there's something like alarm bells in the back of your mind. Everything about Oliver is purposeful, even now. But you know him, you know how he likes to play.

"No you didn't," you look at his fingers still coiled in your sweater, watch him drop them, "you knew I trusted you." You wouldn't let him shift this blame; the faint dismay you can see in his eyes behind the hurt gives him away. He knew Felix had more emotions than sense, but somewhere along the way he seemed to have forgotten that you were so much more than another adoring fan in Felix's shadow.

"'m sorry," stumbles from his mouth almost like a reaction to the look in your eyes, "for hurting Felix with all this, I- I never wanted that," he shakes his head, dropping his gaze, "or hurt you," tacked on as an afterthought. Both of you know where he was placing the importance of that apology. Everything Oliver Quick does is with purpose.

"I know you are, Oliver," you tell him, standing tall and unflinching as you left him alone.

"If you leave my side tonight I'm going to maim him," is how Felix greets you when you enter your room. Sitting on his bed, you see a little, ornate box open in front of him, and you recognise it as one of the few stashes he had around the estate for desperate times. This one, if you recall correctly, was shoved well beneath Henry the Eighth's bed, and had a decent amount of coke that you'd left here after last Christmas.

"Can't fucking believe- I can't fucking believe him!" He rants, cutting up lines of coke on the little hand mirror Venetia had donated to this particular stash box. Mind working a million miles a minute, you're quiet, letting him rant. Running on autopilot, you begin to strip down to your underwear, pulling out your costume for the night, frowning at it in the afternoon light.

"How complicated is your costume?" Felix asks, finally looking up, gazing over at you and the sheer, shimmering thing in your hands. Without a word, but with a vague shrug, you turn it to him.

The base was like something you'd see at a rave, little more than green underwear, with straps, and beading, and jewels, and loops of green and purple pearls by your hips that would bounce while you walked. The overcoat, though it was far to generous to call it that, was pure gossamer, sheer and green, with hand-stitched silk leaves making up the hem that fell perfectly to your ankles, and intricate, hand embroidery of vines that extended across both shoulders, and both arms, ending with little, purple flowers embroidered by your wrists.

There's large, brown boots with a bit of a hell and some large buckles, and a belt that's half a skirt that hit just below your knee to give you some coverage, at least on your left, sewn to look like it was covered in leaves. Plus a leather thigh harness and flask that Farleigh had gotten you made for your last birthday.

Leaning back, Felix reaches out to feel the gossamer between his fingers, frowning for a beat.

"Don't be precious about it."

For a moment, you frown in confusion. Despite your entire outfit being exquisitely and perfectly tailored, you knew you could afford to not be precious about pretty much anything, even this. But that's never been an outright request he's made.

"I'm not?"

Quiet follows, the soft rustle of your garments as you begin to get dressed, and Felix quickly snorting a line of coke.

"I'm going to lose my fucking mind tonight," he mumbles. Even though you're half dressed, you still lean over his shoulder automatically as he lifts the mirror and the rolled bill up to you like an offering, holding the mirror steady for you.

"I need a drink," you groaned, to which Felix immediately agreed.

"God, why don't we stash anything in here?" He lamented, laying back and watching you head to the door once more while you're trying to do up your belt to hold up your partial leaf skirt, still without your overcoat.

"Because that's tacky and we're not alcoholics." Even with your explanation, Felix pouted. Still, it's a quick trip to the Blue Room and the bottle of rum you're glad Venetia hadn't found in the broken piano.

The night gets blurrier, gets better, with half a bottle of liquor in your veins before the sun even sets. As you're making yourself dreamy and ethereal with glitter and gems and makeup in the mirror, Felix drapes himself over your shoulders, pouting again. The drinks and drugs are already hitting you both and you can hear the revelry beginning outside.

"It's not going to last," he says pointedly, and you're confused until you see him trying to poke at the iridescent eyeliner that wasn't quite dry. Rolling your eyes, you smack his hand away. So he makes his point again, adding, "I'm going to get glitter all over me."

You smirked at him in the mirror, tipping your head against his.

"Don't be precious about it."

A spirit amongst the fairies, you greet your college friends with open arms and boundless enthusiasm, always keeping Felix close at hand. He was more subdued than you, more subdued than many of your friends were used to. Whenever you looked at him, it seemed like his gaze was searching, his expression drawn unless someone had caught his attention, and he wore a smile that seemed to convince them.

"Need a drink," his hand around your wrist and no time to protest, Felix dictated your night and it's pace. Frustration and apprehension keep him tense, even as he tries to loosen up; you feel every time that tension spikes, even if you don't know it's cause. His nails dig into you, wherever he's holding you, shoulder, thigh, arm -

In the bathroom, doing lines with India and some guys who claim to be friends of friends of the Cattons, you're leaning against the sink until you Felix nudge your knee with his own. Looking to the door, you see Oliver in white, taking up it's space. Felix only has to gently tap your thigh for you to shift, sitting in his lap.

"You can't ignore me forever," Oliver tells him, watching you both, watching the way Felix wraps an arm around your middle to hold you close and secure on him.

"I can try," Felix practically sings, his nails sinking into your stomach. With his free hand, he offers you his cigarette, raising it to your lips. You drop your gaze as you inhale, trying to only focus on keeping Felix secure in this moment.

"Felix we need to talk," Oliver insists, "Felix, come on man -"

"Look, man, I tried to be nice -" Felix started, and though you tried to gently warn him, pressing against him with Fi on your lips like you hope he won't say something he'll regret, he just holds you tighter and continues on, "but can you fuck off and bother somebody else?"

India half snorts with laughter in the middle of a line of coke, the others all judging Oliver the longer he lingers in the doorway, but Felix drops his gaze. His lips are on your shoulder to keep from saying anything else.

One of guys whose names you don't know asks who Oliver even was, but Felix can't answer; tension again, maybe anxiety or frustration, but his mouth moves from the gossamer and embroidery on your shoulder to your bare skin above the neckline, where your collar meets your throat. His teeth sting. His nails still sting. He swears under his breath before he lets go.

"Sorry," he mumbles finally, sighing and resting his forehead on your shoulder. You tell him it's okay, voice fond, but when you lean over to do another line of coke, you meet India's reproachful gaze. It takes you a long few seconds to connect the dots, to realise what was going on in her head. You're so fucking over everything tonight.

"You know Farleigh was lying to you about us, right?" You say casually, taking your line and sitting back up. Her eyebrows rise in surprise, "I know you think we're all gross and cousin-incest-y -" you hear Felix's faint laughter behind you, and feel him nudge you with his thigh, silently asking you to get up. Both of you do, and Felix manages his first proper smile of the night, even if it is smug.

"But we're not related," he tells her, "thank fucking god," and smacks your ass as the two of you exit, as if to just prove a point.

You're on your knees in a different bathroom when you hear everyone else start to sing happy birthday, but Felix's voice is a low growl of don't you dare stop, and his hands in your hair. Nothing else matters to you in this state of mind, blurry, pliant, desperate to follow his every command. It's as if you've forgotten what exists outside of Felix's hands on you.

The night becomes lights that are too bright, and music too loud, and laughter and glitter and the warmth of the people dancing around you. After a few hours you feel yourself starting to come down from your high, starting to come back to yourself, still on the dance floor. Venetia's dancing with a blonde boy, looking so pretty, like she's having a genuinely fun night, but when you point it out, Felix takes your hand.

"Don't look at Ven," there's that hunger in his eyes, that firm tone he'd been using all night, "don't touch Ven, don't -" he cuts himself off, wets his lips. Looking around for a moment, he spots something in the crowd that makes him scowl. Just a moment, as you follow his gaze, you see Oliver. The moment your eyes lock with his, however, Felix has his lips on your jaw.

"Fucking mine."

There's half a second where you and Oliver are still locked in this moment, you watch the way his expression starts to shift, jaw tensing, something like anger flickering in his eyes. But you can't bring yourself to give a shit about Oliver as Felix has his arms around you, kissing down your throat with a feverish, almost lewd intensity in the middle of the dancefloor.

"Prove it," and you let him drag you from the house, heading towards the place that had always felt a little special for you both, almost a little magical.

"I'm being selfish," Felix announced as you finally hit the tree line just before the maze, "I don't fucking care anymore, I'm being selfish, about you -!" He turns to look at you, only to see you gazing up at him with starry-eyes, hanging on his every word. He breaks into a sheepish grin momentarily, shaking his head as his voice drops for a moment, "oh, you're fucking loving this, aren't you?"

"I want you so bad right now it's actually embarrassing," you agreed with a wide grin, unable to contain your laughter, despite how genuine the feeling was.

"I'm being selfish," he said once more, muttering it this time, though as you entered the maze and the moonlight peaked down upon you, you could see the blush still upon his cheeks, "I don't want anyone else to fucking touch you again, you hear me?" This time, when he looks at you, he thinks he can see hearts in your eyes; your overwhelming love and acceptance, even for this -especially for this- is making it very hard to keep the stern act up, except -

"Anything you say," you tell him, breathless as you approach the centre of the maze, voice edging on desperate, "anything at all." And you see it hits him just where it had needed to, to hear you wanting and wanton and offering yourself to him -

The gossamer overcoat is ruined, scratched all up the back where you're pinned against the statue, half sitting on the base with your legs around Felix's, your fancy green undergarments around one ankle. His nails scratch down the bare skin of your back, fucking into you with furious intent to match.

"You've always been mine," he groans into your ear.

"Felix -" you whimpered. Immediately he was grinning, lips inches from yours, gazing at you through his lashes.

"How's that proving anything?" He teases, low and knowing, and as his hips snap up to meet yours, you take the hint, his name getting louder and louder on your lips as you almost chant it, till his hand is between you both, helping get you off, and you're close and all but screaming his name and -

"Felix." Not from you. Oliver.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" Felix immediately looks murderous, and not in a fun, sexy way. Oliver's demanding to talk to him while you struggle to pull your underwear back on.

"Could hear you out there," Oliver mumbles, half stumbling over his words, unable to look at you, focused on the dirt by your feet instead.

"Kind of the point, Ollie," you snapped, frustrated and now unsatisfied, but dressed once more.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Oliver?" Felix demanded. Oliver advances on him, presses into his space with desperate eyes and a bottle clutched to his chest. He doesn't look at you, he can't fucking look at you, you don't matter. It's Felix and his emotions who lead every situation the two of you share; it's Felix he has to win back over.

But he should have expected you not to leave, should have expected that when Felix pushed him away, shouted for him to get the fuck away, that you would try and step in.

"He's already got you on a leash, can I just have this one fucking moment?!" He snaps at you; he doesn't hit you but you recoil like he has, and Felix's gaze grows cold. Oliver seems to sense this before he even turns back, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just- they already have everything -"

"Back off." Felix warns sharply, but Oliver can't help himself, won't listen.

"I just gave you what you wanted!" Oliver throws himself at Felix, pins him to the statue, their bodies flush and Oliver rambling, "like everyone else does! Everyone puts on a show for Felix..." his voice drops, childish and weak and wanting, and you watch him press himself closer as he turns gentle, "so I'm... I'm sorry if my performance wasn't good enough..."

"I think..." some part of it was working on Felix, his voice soft and placating, "I think you need to see somebody," or maybe he knows by now exactly how Oliver wants him to act; his eyes never leave Oliver's face, even when he doesn't let him go, "you need help okay, seriously -"

"No, no, I don't," Oliver's voice is rising again, "I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you," a tremble in his voice, sounding so raw, so needy, "you're the only friend I ever had, Felix." The manipulation is so blatant it almost hurts; you don't matter to him in this moment, all that matters is saying exactly whatever Felix needs to believe.

"I mean, doesn't this just prove how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you?" That hope, that dangerous, heartbreaking note of hope that's going to make your skin crawl. But you're not leaving without Felix, and he's not leaving this moment it seemed, "I'm still the same person, yeah? I'm still the same person," he insisted.

A long few moments pass, Felix's gaze searching Oliver's face for something beyond you. But then, finally, his gaze slips to you. All you can do is shake your head.

"Don't-" Oliver murmurs faintly, tipping his head to try and block you from Felix's line of sight, but Felix turns his attention back, expression helpless.

"I don't know what you are," he breathes, "but I do know you; you make my fucking blood run cold."

The fight drains out of Oliver, as does every last drop of hope. He lets Felix push his hands away, makes himself give Felix space to breathe. After a beat, he looks back at you, unsteady on his feet, pain in his eyes, but then he lurches, quickly shoves his half-finished bottle into Felix's hands, and rushes away to be sick.

Oliver is doubled over, retching, when you get to Felix. Before he can raise Oliver's bottle to his lips, you tuck yourself under his arm and wrap him up in a hug. He's trembling, but you feel the bottle against your back. Felix tucks his face into the crook of your neck, tears unspilled, clinging to his eyelashes.

"Better?" You ask forlornly once Ollie had gone quiet.

"Fuck off," he spits, finally coming back around. You watch him over Felix's shoulder, and the glare he levels at you as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand is almost surprising. Still, you try and show the same compassion you knew Felix would in this moment.

"Wash the taste out of your mouth," you try and tell Ollie gently, moving carefully out of Felix's arms, wrapping your fingers around the neck of the bottle he'd brought with him, "I think you should go to bed after." Oliver doesn't even reach for the bottle, but he does stop, looking between it, and then between you and Felix.

"Please," Felix sighs, head bent and bottle clasped tightly in his hand, "I need this."

"We can get another," you tell him quietly, calmly. Felix's gaze flicks to yours, imploring for just a moment, but dropping again when you don't relent. Felix sighs, once more, but finally relents, handing you over the bottle. Which Oliver has kept his focus on, brow now furrowing.

"I gave you everything else of mine, my drink's not even good enough for you anymore, like the rest of me?" He sneers, reaching unsteadily for the bottle in your hands, though his eyes and their focus betray him. Something lights up in the back of your mind, like one of those memories that made far more sense once Oliver's lie had been revealed. Alarm bells once again.

Felix stumbles to a halt -

"Fucking fine -" but as he tries to reach for the bottle again you step out of his range, beginning to see red as you got closer to Oliver, prickling with suspicion, "what is your problem, Y/N," Felix sounds so fucking tired, but all you can see is the deer of a boy before you growing wide eyed as he looks into yours.

"It's Oliver's," trying with all your might to not jump to conclusions, you hold the bottle out, desperately hoping that you'd connected the wrong dots, that Oliver was just drunk and as helpless as he appeared, that he couldn't be this malicious or vindictive-

"You want me to be sick again?" He tries to stand up to you, bottle pressed to his chest and refusing to step back even as you continue to crowd his space, "fuck off." He's seeming more sober, more alert, more with himself with each minute that passes. The distant noise of the party rings in your ears and all you can think about is the cold bottle between you and how Felix had almost -

"Leave him alone," Felix called out, footsteps in the grass sounding as though he was making his way back to the maze, "he's not worth it."

"He's pathetic," you spit, nose to nose with Oliver now, face heating up as hot, angry tears begin to close your vision. Still, you can see in Oliver's eyes that he's finding fewer and fewer ways to escape the situation.

"I don't care what either of youse think of me anymore," Oliver's lip curls as it quivers, trying to play distraught and callous all at once, "go fuck each other to feel like you're not just a fucking waste of space, vapid cunts -" he can see he's touched a nerve by the way your expression lights up with malevolent fury.

"Fi," there's a shake in your voice that you can't even fight, "please leave."

"Can you please come with me," Felix sounds like he's on the verge of tears, and when you turn, he's reaching for you, his hand shaking, "please can we go?" He begs.

An angel. Your best friend. Your everything. Your Felix.

Seeing him like this, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Oliver's greed and jealousy would rather see Felix hurt than not in love with him, you couldn't let him get away with it. Finally you start to cry, even if you hadn't meant to, and the sight of it has Felix begging for you to leave with him. Oliver starts pushing, demanding that you both fuck off.

"Give me a minute, My Felix," you tell him, trying to smile, trying to reassure him, "I'll catch up."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"I don't want you to see this," you turn back to Oliver with newfound resolution. He's stepped back, leaning himself against the statue, doubled over, head in his hands.

"See what?" Felix asks dubiously, and Oliver looks up, sees the way you're approaching him, and scrambles to straighten his posture.

"Ollie's going to have a little drink," you offer him the bottle again.

"Tryna make me sick again?" He snarls.

"Then use it to wash your mouth out, then swallow," you order coldly, "and repeat until the bottle's empty."

"Why should I?"

"Because it's just as perfectly fine as when you handed it to Felix," you hissed, voice low enough that Felix himself couldn't properly hear. Oliver narrowed his eyes, matching your tone.

"If I don't?"

"What I will do to you, Oliver Quick, will be much worse than whatever you've put in that bottle, so you'll drink it all up," you leaned in, whispering close and menacing, "and if you do throw it up, I will have you on your belly, like the worm you are, sucking your own sick off of the fucking ground."

"What the fuck is going on?" Felix demanded, and you turned, taking a deep breath and hopefully giving a much more convincing, determined smile.

"He made you cry."

Felix's expression immediately changed. All soft and fragile but understanding, he just asks that you don't be long. You promise not to be. Both you and Oliver watching him go.

Once in the clear, you turn back to your captive audience, keeping your voice low.

"I'm not going to make you drink it," you admit, and though Oliver's confused and on edge, he seems to relax, just a little.

"The fuck do you want from me then?"

"I just need to hear you say it," you step back from him, give him space, even step around to place the bottle at the foot of the statue and lean your forehead against the cool stone.

"Say what -?"

"I'm not fucking stupid, Ollie," you groaned, looking at him out of the corner of your eyes, "you think I could hurt you? I ruin lives behind the scenes, I couldn't -" you flail your hands awkwardly, rocking back on your heels, turning to him properly once more. It appears to work, however, as Oliver is now only regarding you warily, instead of seeming actively cautious. "I was... hurt," you admitted, "I know why you said it, but I was hurt to hear you say Felix was your only friend."

"That's not -" he tried, defences lowering further as he attempted to defend himself.

"No, I get it; I've done terrible things because I love Fi, I couldn't imagine," you cast a pitying, apologetic look to Oliver, "him not loving me back."

And it works. He cracks, little by little. The tears begin to form, the lip starts to tremble.

"It's not fucking fair," it already sounds like there's a lump in his throat, "why do you deserve his love?" He scowls, "why can't I? I can be like you, I can be good -" he babbles, sniffling harshly amongst his defiantly sharp tone, "I know I could be," you gently wrap an arm around him and he fists a hand to tightly in your overcoat that it tears, "I was everything he wanted me to be -"

"I know, Ollie, I know," you carefully remove his antlers, holding them in one hand as you coax him in close, running a comforting hand through his hair.

"I wanted him to love me, I wanted- I never wanted him hurt, but wanted him dead so it wasn't my fault if he didn't love me; he couldn't love anyone -" he breaks down into furious tears, "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. I hate you, I hate that he loves you without you even trying -" there's no apology in his distress, even as he lets you hold him close, and you, for a few more moments, whisper reassuring nonsense. "I never wanted to hurt him," he mumbled softly, "but I wanted to kill him. I could never hurt him," there's anger and guilt in his eyes as he looks up at you, tear soaked and helpless, "but I wanted to hurt you." What you give him in return is pity, is sweetness and apology, but your blood is burning through your veins.

"You would have regretted it."

"I know..."

"Are you lying?"

"I think I am."

You have what you need, the confession, the intention; validation for your motivation. Hook, line and sinker.

"Hey, Ollie, Ollie, darling look at me, I know, okay, I know-" you try, taking his face in your free hand.

"No you fucking don't!" Oliver insists, but you keep insisting, "don't fucking take that tone, I just told you I was trying to kill Felix to hurt you -!" He thrashes, but your gentleness is unrelenting in this moment. You will give Oliver Quick what he deserves.

"Ollie, look at me, okay? Look me in the eyes, please -" you begged, and finally he did, despair and anger all there amongst the tears, "keep looking me in the eyes," you tell him gently, and firmly, and he does, too curious for his own good and wanting to see where this was going -

"Everything," you give him the faintest, reassuring smile, one hand on his face, shaking, messily wiping tears from his cheeks with your thumb as he keeps your gaze, "is going to be -"

- and you ram one of his antlers into his soft, exposed belly with all your strength. Surprise and pain hit him all at once and suddenly he's scrambling, trying to get your hands off of the headpiece. But he's winded, and suddenly in overwhelming pain.

"- fine," you breathe out, shaking with adrenaline. You have him pinned against the statue, just like he'd had Felix only minutes ago.

"Eyes, Oliver," you ordered coldly, while making sure to keep smiling, even as fresh traitorous tears were gathering and already spilling down your cheeks. Hand in his hair coming to grip him tightly, keeping his gaze level with yours, "what did I say? I want you to look me in the eyes -" and you rip the antlers out before plunging them back into his gut. Lips twisting into an animalistic snarl involuntarily, Oliver splutters and fights and squirms but everything is becoming slippery, and warm, and slick with his blood. The antlers, your hands, and his; hard to get a grip like the firm one you had on your weapon of choice.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-" he chokes out helplessly, bloody hands moving up, trying to grip your arms, your shoulders, your face, "how -fuck- why -?"

"Whatever you had in that bottle is too good for you; you tried to kill Felix, you said so yourself."

As his strength begins to fail, the way he holds your face turns tender, almost gentle, before his hands fall back to rest on yours, both gripping the bloody antler. Oliver's weight rests on the statue, watching you with despair and helpless, pained moans. Cheeks wet with tears, you can't even fathom how you're doing this, or who you will be once it's done.

"You are not the minotaur of this maze," you grit your teeth, leaning your weight on the headdress, driving it into his guts until the bloody antler snapped clean off of the headdress, you still can't bring yourself to stop. It doesn't feel like enough. He tried to kill Felix. So you took the other antler in hand, unable to stop yourself, shaking with rage and tears, "you are the dear in my fucking headlights; you tried to hurt Felix, you tried to kill Felix! You are nothing, nothing, nothing," you punctuate each nothing with another bloody, unnecessary jab until you can't keep going. The second antler collapses to the ground, and you stumble back, hands shaking.

"Didn't want to hurt him," Oliver insists weakly.

"You were someone we loved," you can see the first antler still jutting out of him, stemming the blood flow but undoubtedly causing excruciating pain. But you spare him no sympathy, only a look of absolute loathing, finally taking in what you've done, the blood your fury had shed. "Someone I loved!" Burst from you, raw brutal betrayal scraping its way from your throat, face hot and wet with tears, falling to your knees, looking up at him with an exhausted fury, "you will never hurt him again. I will never give you that chance."

But Oliver's quickly unfocusing gaze slips from you, rising to a point beyond you, out into the maze. A weak, faint, but somehow still triumphant smile works it's way across his lips.

"Him?"

Like in a horror movie, you cast your gaze over your shoulder. You hear when Oliver finally gives out, stop holding himself up on the statue and fall to the ground, but all you can see is Felix at the edge of the maze.

And that look in his eyes.

Oh god, what have you done?

"Felix," tears start welling in your eyes again, and finally he looks away from Oliver's body, his own antler protruding from him, slowly bleeding out, to you. From here, he can't see the blood on your hands, the blood that's all over you, but he can see it all over Oliver, "Fi, please, you need to -" but he's stepping towards you, almost automatically; he looks ill. You have to look away, can't bear for him to see what your rage has brought about.

"I'm not," his words are robotic, still a bit slurred, and he keeps looking at Oliver, "going without you. 'said that." But he stops behind you. Eyes closed, you wait, you can't bear to even look at him. Then, slowly, he moves. When you breathe, it makes you shake, but you slowly open your eyes.

Felix approaches Oliver. You watch the faint, far away smile wears as he sees Felix up close once more.

"Fe-lix," he sighs faintly, reaching out with weak, shaking, bloody hands, feather light finger tips leaving red streaks along Felix's cheeks, his jaw, his lips. Felix's head dips in close, into Oliver's aching touch, his forehead resting against Oliver's in this moment.

"You were going to fucking kill me, Ollie?" Felix whispered through clenched teeth, on the edge of tears.

"'m sorry," Ollie mumbled weakly, shock and blood loss catching up with him as he struggled to keep his eyes open, "didn't want to hurt you."

"You wanted to kill me -"

"It wouldn't hurt."

"It would have hurt them!" Felix grabbed him by the collar with one hand, wrenching the dying boy up enough to see him pointing at you, still kneeling on the ground, second bloody antler laying in front of you. All Oliver could do was make a pained whimper, and Felix dropped him back to the ground, "and you said it yourself-" his voice is venomous, but your breath catches as you realise just how much he must have heard to know that, "and even having a thought like that," he snarls, hatred burning in his eyes, "means you don't fucking know me at all."

Felix is by your side in the very next moment, pulling you into his lap as he leaned back against the base of the sculpture. You're sobbing into your bloody hands, nothing else to do or say. Even as he's shaking, as he's crying too, Felix doesn't let you go, doesn't let you feel anything but secure with him.

"You saw it all, didn't you?" You whispered finally, and feel him nod.

"I said I wouldn't leave without you."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry -" and while he tells you that you don't have to be, the words, the fears, the desperate justifications and rationalisations pour out of you, "he said he was trying to kill you, Fi, and I couldn't- I should have walked away, just gotten him kicked out or taken away or- or- but I couldn't," you gasped, "I couldn't let him ever have that kind of chance again, I couldn't risk that, my mind wouldn't let me -"

"I know, I love you," Felix murmurs weakly, his forehead against your shoulder once more, "dad and Duncan will know what to do, they'll take care of it tomorrow," he sounds so young in this moment, so tired and fragile. You nod quietly, leaning into him. When his hands find yours, threading your fingers together and holding on tightly, Oliver's blood is still sticky on your skin. Neither of you seems to care.

"How did you know something was so wrong?" Felix finally asked, the air cooler and quieter now. You have no idea how much time has passed, but it sounds as though the party was winding down. Oliver's party.

"He wasn't that drunk," you said after a long moment of deliberation, "could see it in his eyes," taking a deep breath, you cast your gaze to the guest of honour, completely still, chest no longer shifting with shallow, frantic breathes, "if he wasn't drunk, why was he sick?" Sighing, you leaned into Felix. You felt so hollow; "everything Oliver Quick did, he did with purpose."

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 126 }

john wayne.

ichigo kurosaki x fem.reader

notes: unedited; post lost agent arc, but pre thousand year blood war arc; may be a little canon divergent. a self indulgent story where the reader doesn't know whether she's afraid of him- or in love with him.

{ baby, he's got to be crazy | living like he's john wayne | always facing the world, a-chasing the girl | baby, he's got to be crazy }

there were moments where ichigo kurosaki absolutely intimidated and frightened you, and you did all you could to avoid him like the plague whilst spending your school years at karakura high.

in your eyes, ichigo was someone who always got into fights and had the appearance of the usual delinquent. his orange hair was difficult to ignore, seeming to capture the essence of a sunset itself. despite never once sharing a class with him, the times that you did pass by him, his features were always drawn up in a scowl.

sometimes, being in the same room with ichigo felt stifling. it was as though there was a power felt emanating from him, one that you couldn't quite explain or put a finger on. all you knew was that he was strong- much stronger than he let on.

as you walked through the hallways after finishing your club duties for the day, you cling to your bag while looking out the window. the skies were bathed in warm, gentle hues of the sunset, and the sight was so beautiful to you that you had to take a chance to stop and admire it.

while looking at the setting sun, your mind wanders to ichigo, feeling your heart twist a bit in anticipation while remembering the conversation you last had with your friends.

you recall a time when you hung out with your friends, orihime and tatsuki, simply studying for your respective exams when orihime cheerfully called out your name and asks, "ne, what do you think of kurosaki-kun?"

you look back at her with your eyes wide, "huh? why would you ask me about him all of a sudden?"

a strange expression crosses her features, but she simply shakes her head, appearing sheepish while placing a strand of her red hair behind her ear, "well, i was just wondering, that's all! it's just, you seem to be doing a lot to avoid him..."

you felt your cheeks turn warm in embarrassment, "i have not been avoiding him! w-well, not intentionally, at least." you cough, trying to hide how awkward you felt. you didn't think anyone would notice how you spent most of your high school years not interacting with ichigo at all, managing to reach your final year without a hitch.

"why? did that jerk do something to you?" tatsuki was quick to come to your defense, "you can tell me if that idiot did something to upset you, and i will gladly have a word with him."

you try to diffuse the situation, holding up your hands in protest while calming your friends down, "no please, tatsuki, there's no need to do anything to him! it's just... i don't know, something about him...scares me."

your friends remain silent, waiting for you to explain. you swallow thickly while running a hand through your own hair, "he hasn't done anything wrong, but sometimes, when he's near, i can feel his presence. there's something... foreboding about him, i guess. like, something that makes him not all... human."

the warmth felt against your cheeks becomes even more prominent, making you shake your head as you slapped both of your hands against them. "please, i'm sorry, don't tell kurosaki i said all of that. i know it makes no sense and-"

"no no, that's totally understandable! b-but still, kurosaki isn't that scary at all!"

"i agree with orihime, he's really a dummy who doesn't know how to act normally around people sometimes-"

"and he has a heart of gold, with his desire to protect everyone."

oddly enough, both orihime and tatsuki did their best to convince you that ichigo was just a normal guy with an unfriendly face, and you had to hold back your giggling, promising them that you'd try to speak to ichigo when the chance came up.

thinking back on it now, you kind of regretted your promise to them. something about ichigo made you so nervous, and you found that you couldn't think straight when he was around. you sigh and rest your head against the window, playing various scenarios of you greeting ichigo, just to see if you could do it or not.

"hey, are you okay?"

in the midst of your reverie, you freeze, hearing that familiar deep voice calling out to you. moving your head away from the window, you look to your right to see ichigo himself. he wore his usual school uniform while placing a hand within the confines of his pockets, his posture slightly slouched when he casually approaches you.

"are you feeling sick? do you need to go to the infirmary?"

you couldn't breathe, meeting with his brown eyes as you could see a softness in them you had never seen before. had he always looked this beautiful? and just why was your heart suddenly racing now?

whether it was out of fear, or something else, you couldn't say for sure.

when he was directly in front of you, you found that you lost all confidence, quickly apologizing to him with every intention of leaving him. your mind was a muddled mess, and you felt so flustered that you didn't know what to do.

you merely took two steps away from him when you felt something pulling you back, encircling your wrist as you were trapped against a lithe form and the wall.

ichigo's scowl was back, and he kept you against the wall. "are you afraid of me?"

you truly felt mortified at that moment, unable to say a word to him as you felt dizzy from his proximity. you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, and his body heat was seeping into you, making it harder for you to concentrate.

your heart was beating painfully out of your chest, and you couldn't say a word to him as you ended up looking away from him. ichigo ends up clicking his tongue, finally pushing himself away from you. with ichigo no longer pressing you up against the wall, you look at his steadily retreating form, not daring to move until he was out of your sight.

you waited for several minutes, remaining in the hallway while mentally berating yourself. why did you have to feel so weird when it came to him? what made you feel this way, and were you really afraid of him-

or was it something else?

you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realize just how low the sun was beginning to set. with a gasp, you take a hold of your bag and made a mad dash toward the exit, practically running home in hopes that nightfall wouldn't come.

your breathing was labored, with your footsteps pounding across the concrete streets of karakura town. all you wanted to do was go home and be alone with your thoughts, but something stops you from moving forward.

you halt your movements, frowning as you strained your ears to hear your surroundings. you swore that as you ran, something was following you.

blood was rushing through your ears as you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins, initiating your fight or flight response.

that's her...

a cruel voice echoes into the air, filling your veins with ice as you shakily take a step forward, feeling something ominous coming from behind you.

this has to be her... his heart.

if we destroy what is most important to him, we'll destroy his heart...

you gasp and tried to force your legs to move forward once more, now running across the empty streets of karakura when a slash was felt tearing through the fabric of your uniform. you whimper, looking behind you to see a thin slice of blood appearing on the side of your abdomen.

a sudden tremor was what ultimately brings you back down to your knees with a scream, the pain all but masked due to the anxiety and fear that was felt coursing through your veins. as you were looking forward, you were able to make out two, large fuzzy shadows. a skeletal mask hid their features, and you felt an all-consuming sense of despair coursing through you-

because this...this was how you were going to die.

the looming shadows were seen leaning down, and you could only bring yourself to close your eyes, awaiting for the painful death-

"NO! NOT HER!"

your throat becomes dry when you hear the sounds of his voice, forcing you to look up when you saw ichigo dressed in all-black while wielding a thin blade. the shadows face him, ready to attack when he brings his sword down on one of the shadows. it swiftly goes down in one hit while ichigo flows gracefully to the next shadow, not even giving it a single chance to reach you as he pierces through its mask.

a shrill cry echoes throughout the night, and your heart was still pounding with fear even as ichigo's body shielded you from the destruction of those shadow like creatures.

time slowed down to a crawl, and only when you could no longer see the outline of those shadows did you fall to your knees. your ears were ringing, and you found it hard to focus, unable to react even when ichigo was calling out your name.

a familiar warmth was felt enveloping you in a gentle embrace, and you found yourself falling back against a hard chest. your eyes were distant, unable to truly see ichigo. his frown was back, and you heard him let out a soft curse before leaning in closer to you, placing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss.

the sensation of his chapped lips against yours was what ultimately brings you back down to earth, grounding you as you responded eagerly to his kiss. with a soft sigh of his name, you allowed your lips to slot perfectly against his, threading your hands through his sunset colored hair while basking in his sudden kiss. as ichigo warms you, you no longer felt like gravity was the one grounding you, but rather it was him.

when he feels your response, ichigo pulls away from the kiss and smiles down at you. you feel the way the calloused pad of his thumb trace at your bottom lip, gaze achingly sweet when he asks, "are you okay?"

you could only manage a nod, making ichigo give you another one of his soft smiles when he stands back to his full height still holding you. "alright, let me take you home."

"wait...!" your voice comes out as hoarse due to your prior screams, and you had to wet your lips to get rid of the dryness felt against them. "i...i still feel scared... can i please stay with you...?"

the kindness was so evident in his gaze, and you found yourself wondering why you were so afraid of him in the first place. he simply tightens his hold on you, simply answering your pleas with a simple "yeah."

holding you close to his chest, ichigo ends up taking you somewhere safe, running with an almost inhuman speed towards the town park. the cold air was felt whipping through your hair, and you could do little but continue to cling to him whilst he ran. with the moon and stars now shining brightly in the sky, ichigo reaches the park and settles down against the plush grass while keeping you on his lap.

he says nothing, simply looking up at the sky while running his hands through your hair. meanwhile, you kept staring up at his beautiful features with a million questions running through your mind, leaving you feeling overwhelmed and speechless.

your name coming out from ichigo's lips in a soft spoken tone breaks you out of your thoughts, with you meeting his gaze once more. his brown eyes were gentle, and you could feel his thumb gracing at your cheeks in a tender caress.

"i'm glad that i was able to save you."

you felt your heart racing again, with your hands clinging to the front of his dark robe, "kurosaki...?"

he hums, brushing his lips against your head of hair, silently coaxing you to go on.

"d-do you... do you happen to... i mean, by any chance- do you like me?" you blurt out as quickly as possible, your words coming out as a bit rushed when you clench your eyes shut, feeling afraid of what his answer might be.

ichigo was silent for several seconds before he slowly begins speaking once more. "you know... a while back, when my old man was talking about how he and my mother met... he told me that my mother was like his sun- that she became the center of his entire universe. and i didn't understand it back then..."

you open your eyes, feeling ichigo tracing his lips against the shell of your ear. when you felt him nuzzling against your skin, the sensation being achingly sweet to you, was when he whispers, "but now, i finally understand it."

his large hand was felt on your chin, making you look up at him. "i always noticed you. you were close to inoue and arisawa, and there was always this desire i had to protect you... to shield you from all the dangers of the world."

"but you were afraid of me...and i didn't want to scare you anymore. yet at the same time, i didn't want to leave you alone. i never wanted you to get hurt or feel pain because of me."

ichigo's eyes narrow, and you could feel the back of his hand gracing at your cheek. "i guess what i'm trying to say is that... you've become the center of my universe... that you've always been the center of my universe."

your heart was bursting at the seams, finally filling with an unbidden happiness as you allowed you to realize the truth of your emotions-

perhaps deep down, you knew that he loved you, but was too shy or insecure to truly believe it. yet now, with ichigo's earnest expression and true confession, you felt a joy that was indescribable.

so instead of conveying how you felt for ichigo with words, you allowed your actions to reply back to his confession. with a whisper of his name, you lean up and allow your lips to meet with his in a sweet kiss, one that let him know just how much he had become the center of your own universe as well.

a.n. - 'john wayne' by cigarettes after sex is such a fitting song for ichigo kurosaki. writing this brought out so many good memories of all the daydreams i had about him when i was younger... 🥹 i miss him ♡ 

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝟐'𝐬, jump then fall au!

au masterlist! masterlist!

♡ ─ word count | 1.9k

♡ ─ summary | a week into cece being the fantilli's official nanny, paloma is going through the terrible two tantrums and adam doesn't know how to deal with it.

♡ ─ warnings | unedited, fluff, anxiety, toddler tantrums (ofc), mentions of being tired, idk ?? nothing else!

♡ ─ taglist | @literatureluster @itsnotgray (fill in form in my navigation in you are interested!)

♡ ─ ev's notes | aaaaa this series is finally in full swing, i am so excited. ALSOOO PLEASE SEND IN ANY THOUGHTS U HAVE WITH THIS AU, i love when yall have your own little headcanons it literally makes my day. also, how would u guys like this to be formatted? like chapters or like.. something else??? idk but anyways, ily u all and enjoy this fic!!!!!

Adam rambled on nervously about Paloma's snack for about the fifth time as Cece followed him into the kitchen, nodding along to every word he was saying. She knew he was nervous to leave Paloma alone so she tried her best to seem interested even though he's repeated the same thing for what seemed like the millionth time.

As Adam rambled on, he suddenly stopped mid-sentence, an embarrassed flush creeping onto his cheeks. He realized he had been repeating himself, and Cece had been patiently listening the whole time.

"Sorry," he chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I'm just a bit on edge with leaving Paloma alone. I want everything to be perfect for her."

Cece shook her head in understanding, "No don't even apologize! I appreciate it, I do tend to forget about stuff. And I get it, the first time is always the hardest."

Adam sighed, feeling grateful for her understanding. "Thanks, Cece. I know I can be a bit... overprotective sometimes."

"It's a good quality, especially when it comes to being a dad," she replied warmly. "I get it, I go crazy for my little brother. I'm pretty sure I would commit a crime for him," you joked playfully.

Adam chuckled, the tension in the room easing as he appreciated Cece's sense of humor. "Yeah, me too. Paloma is my world, and I'd do anything to make sure she's safe and happy."

Cece smiled warmly, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "I can tell you're a great dad, Adam. Paloma is lucky to have you." Her smile carried her feelings and she saw herself in Adam as he talked about Paloma. She was the same with her brother and her little nephew and niece.

His expression softened, and he returned the smile. "Thanks, Cece. That means a lot."

Comfort silence filled the kitchen before Adam got a phone call and cursed under his breath, "Shit, I'm late."

Cece watched as Adam's expression shifted from one of warmth to a sudden realization that he was running late. She could sense the urgency in his voice as he cursed softly.

"I gotta get going but call me if anything happens. And if I don't answer, call Luca or mom. Oh, you don't have my mom's number, let me give it to you in case-"

Cece let out a soft laugh as she put a hand on his shoulder in comfort, "It's fine, Adam. Don't worry I'm sure I'll get a hold of you, alright? Just relax and get to your meeting in one piece."

He took a breath and then laughed along with her, even though there was still some anxiety running through his veins. He nodded, "Alright, sorry about that, you're right." This was part of the process, it would be okay.

"Don't apologize, you're okay." Cece still had an understanding expression on her face as Adam took another deep breath before walking to the door and taking his keys.

"Alright, I'll see you in a couple hours. Paloma's sleeping right now but you remember-" He saw her expression and then let out an anxious sigh before nodding. "You got it?"

"I got it, boss." You joked playfully as he smiled. "Bye,"

"Bye." He took one more look around his apartment before leaving the apartment.

As Adam left for his meeting, Cece stood in the doorway, watching him until he disappeared from view. She then turned her attention back to the apartment, a newfound sense of responsibility settling in her heart. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to check on Paloma, who was still peacefully sleeping in her room.

The apartment was quiet, save for the gentle sounds of Paloma's breathing. Cece couldn't help but smile as she looked down at the sleeping toddler.

──

A FEW WEEKS LATER

──

Adam walked into the apartment after a long and grueling practice, his body feeling the weight of exhaustion. The familiar scent of home welcomed him as he closed the door behind him. He let out a sigh of relief, glad to be back in the comfort of his own space.

He entered the living room, he noticed the soft glow of dimmed lights and the sound of gentle music playing in the background. It was a scene he had grown accustomed to since Cece had become a part of their lives.

He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Cece cleaning Paloma's dishes. She looked up and smiled warmly when she saw him. "Hey, Adam. How was practice?"

She could tell he was tired, he has been for the entirety of the week. She respected how hard he worked at practice and how he still had energy for Paloma, even after an exhausting practice.

Adam stretched his tired muscles and replied, "Long and exhausting, per usual, but it's done. How's Paloma?"

Cece's smile widened. "She's been an sweetheart. We played and watched a Barbie movie, had dinner, now she's asleep in bed."

Adam felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had been anxious about leaving Paloma in someone else's care, but seeing how well Cece was handling everything put his mind at ease. Right as he was about to respond, the familiar cry of Paloma rang through the apartment.

Cece, out of habit, immediately dropped the dishes into the sink and walked out of the kitchen before Adam spoke, "Cece, it's fine. Let me go see what's up."

"Oh, alright-"

This had been a problem for the past week, Paloma throwing tantrums right after being put to sleep. Adam had tried everything he could think of to soothe her, but nothing seemed to work.

He made his way to Paloma's bedroom and found her sitting up in her crib, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Hey, sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked softly as he lifted her into his arms.

Paloma clung to him, her tiny hands gripping his shirt as she continued to cry.

Adam's heart broke at his daughter's cries. He held her close and whispered soothingly, "It's okay, Paloma. Daddy's here, and you're okay." His arms were sore from practice but he couldn't get himself to leave her as she continued to cry loudly.

He gently rocked her back and forth, his heart aching as he tried to comfort her. Paloma's cries gradually subsided, and she nestled against his chest, her breathing slowly evening out. He didn't want to put her back in the crib because he didn't want to her wake up again and cry, so he stayed like that for a few seconds even if he was exhausted.

Cece walked in quietly and Adam put his finger on his finger to singal to be quiet. Paloma made a soft noise and Adam let out a sigh of exhaustion but to his surprise, she didn't start crying again as she saw Cece.

Instead, she sat up in Adam's arms and reached out to Cece, making a soft, wanting sound. Cece couldn't help but let out a laugh, her heart warmed by the sight of Paloma's tiny outstretched arms.

Adam slowly gave Paloma to Cece and she immediately held onto her, putting her head on her shoulder and her eyes immediately shut.

Adam watched with a mixture of relief and admiration as Paloma snuggled into Cece's arms, her cries now fully replaced by contentment. He had been worried about leaving her alone with the Cece, but this moment reassured him that he had made the right choice.

Cece held Paloma gently, her heart melting at the trust Paloma was placing in her. She swayed softly, creating a soothing rhythm that seemed to lull Paloma back into a peaceful slumber.

Adam couldn't help but smile at the sight. His daughter was finally finding comfort and security in the presence of another person. He made a gesture to the door to silently say he was going to leave and Cece gave him a sweet smile and a thumbs up with her free hand. As he left the room, his heart swelled at the new memory. He felt himself get used to Cece and Paloma together, it was a new welcome sight.

After he took a shower, he walked into the kitchen and he heard Paloma's bedroom door open quietly and then he turned to see Cece. She caught his gaze and smiled before walking up to him.

Adam felt comfortable as he saw Cece approaching him from the hallway. There was something comforting about her presence, something that put him at ease. He couldn't help but return her smile with a warm one of his own.

"Hey," she greeted softly, her voice carrying a sense of warmth and ease. "Paloma is back to sleep. I think she just needed a little reassurance."

"Good, I'm glad. Hopefully she sleeps the whole night." Adam sighed and he still sounded tired after his shower. You couldn't help but feel bad for him, you knew how much sports and a career could take a toll on a person. She couldn't even imagine on top of all of that, having a toddler to take care of. "And thanks, Cece. You're great with her."

She waved off his gratitude. "It's my pleasure, Adam. I enjoy spending time with her, she's such a sweet girl and she makes my job so much easier."

He nodded in agreement as he listened to her compliment. "She can be handful sometimes, but she's the best thing that's ever happened to me." There was a softness in his eyes as he spoke about his daughter, a deep love that was evident in every word.

Cece smiled warmly, her heart warmed by the genuine affection Adam had for Paloma. "It's clear how much you love her, Adam. It's beautiful to see."

Adam's gaze met hers, and for a moment, time seemed to slow down as they shared a silent connection. There was something about Cece that drew him in, something he couldn't quite put into words. He immediately internally yelled at himself, he couldn't ─ not with his nanny.

He cleared his throat, breaking the momentary silence. "Well, I'm glad you're here," he admitted, his eyes still fixed on her. "It's nice to have some company too."

Cece's smile brightened, and she took a step closer to him. "I'm here whenever you need me, Adam. For both of you." Her eyes widened as Adam looked back at her and she suddenly felt self-conscious. "Like, in a friend way. Of course," she laughed nervously.

Adam couldn't help but notice the sudden shift in Cece's demeanor, and he couldn't help but chuckle softly at her nervous laughter. He appreciated the clarification, even though part of him was tempted to explore where that unspoken connection might lead to.

"Of course, Cece," he replied with a warm smile. "Well, you're my first official friend in Ohio. Well, other than the team."

She returned the smile, "I'm honored, Adam." She laughed at that and he joined in a second later. The laughter filled the kitchen before she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

"Oh shoot, I gotta get going. I have to pick up my friend,"

"No problem, Cece," Adam replied, his smile still lingering. "Thanks for taking care of Paloma tonight. And get home safe, text me when you get home." He wanted to self-palm himself after that one but Cece just smiled warmly at that, making all the anxiety melt away.

"I will, thank you. See you Monday," Cece replied, her warm smile making Adam's heart skip a beat. She waved goodbye before leaving, leaving Adam alone in the kitchen with a new sense of warmth and connection he hadn't felt in a while.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Every day I love more "sorry, but I think I lost your plot", I really enjoy reading updates <3

I wanted to know if Stoick will force Hiccup to have a talk about girls after all

Or hiccup overthinking about the attempt of kiss while our reader doesn't know how to continue in denial

Sorry for my bad english, I tried my best :(

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 22

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,846

Stoick ends up arguing with his son when all he wants to do is talk. Hiccup is mad.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Defenders of Berk, Fright of Passage, post episode, Hiccup’s POV, Reader’s POV, unedited, half-fill

<Previous - Next>

“Son.”

The sounds of the chittering of bugs and animals and leaves were lighter by the village, much lighter than when he’d been walking in the woods with you.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there standing before he had been approached.

Knowing who it was was enough to immediately sour his mood.

Hiccup didn’t have to look over to tell who spoke, as his father was the only one with a presence large enough to sense from a mile away, at least when he was aware of it, and there was no one else with as heavy or confident a step on Berk.

“Dad?” Hiccup held in a deep sigh, looking crossly out over the village, purposefully not looking towards his feet, brows dropping into a furrowed line. He had the idea his Dad was looking out over Berk in the same way. He didn’t have to look.

He remembered a time they spent staring in a much similar way, out over the docks just before his Dad had gone after the nest and he’d gone and tamed Toothless.

“Where have you been?” Stoick asked gruffly, staring down at his son. 

He wished he had gone now and gone fast.

Hiccup shot a quick glare to his right, where his father stood, eyes making contact with his large, turquoise tunic, metal kilt and furred boots.

“Busy,” he said, after a long moment’s silence.

He still had blueprints laid out across his desk in the forge. He could have gone and tried to sleep in there, clinging onto the whisps of the nice evening you had had.

Hiccup was more a do-er than an organizer. He was having a hard time trying to figure out how to organize the pipes. If they ever clogged…The lower tunnels were prone to flash flooding when it rained.

Maybe he just needed to make more space, do some excavation, give the rainwater time to pool off. 

But he’d been spending a lot of time with his Dad recently.

He was still upset with his Dad, though he wasn’t sure the large man realized it.

He remembered Fireworm island, when his Dad had played pick-up, scrutinizing you the whole time in a way that made you so obviously uncomfortable. And he looked positively incensed as he did it.

He definitely remembered before that, when he’d gone asking you questions about responsibility and after when he and Hiccup had been eating dinner over the fire and his Dad had some questions to ask and words to say about you then.

He was going to chase you away before Hiccup could get a word out about how he really felt. That wasn’t funny or fond; he hadn’t been involved enough in Hiccup’s life to care, or to judge.

He shouldn’t judge you at all, anyhow. He didn’t know you; not at all.

Hiccup liked you a lot.

He didn’t want to rough you up like the other Vikings did to each other and he didn’t want his Dad sizing you up the whole time you were around as if you were the last, tiny piece of meat on a stick.

He didn’t want his Dad to waste your time when he wasn’t even sure if you liked him.

Hiccup grimaced.

Stoick looked down at his son, face impassive, though for him, impassive meant stormy, “You missed family dinner.”

A spear or, as it felt the most like -a jolt, a sudden itch of irritation made itself known, jabbing through his gut, to his heart.

He knew that.

He didn’t want to say anything, but the, “Yeah,” came unbidden.

He shifted, not really feeling the cold as anything more than a passing breeze. 

The fur lining the neck of his vest tickled his nape, the tufts that used to stand fluffy on top of it matted and uncomfortable. They didn’t bother him enough for him to replace it, yet.

“Hiccup,” His father said sternly, in a tone that made Hiccup rile, “From now on, I expect you to-”

“Well, unless you and Gobber start making out, I don’t think we’re much of a family,” Hiccup regretted it nearly the moment he said it, but he kept his jaw stubbornly set, glaring outwards, keeping his eyes painfully focused on a vague discolored roof. Was it painted? 

It was too dark to tell, all the houses the same shade of muddy blue in the dark.

It was times like these he wished he had a mother instead of a Dad.

He’d spent many nights eating dinner on his lonesome with no problem, and so had his Dad. And they’d both been fine.

Hiccup wished his Dad would leave so he had more time to ogle off into the village. Or that he would step away far enough for him to complain about his Dad to himself in relative silence.

“You like… the girl,” Stoick spoke again, finally, “Were you following her?”

Hiccup was reminded quickly of the talke they had at dinner before and wrinkled his nose, cheek twitching and he fought down a disgruntled glower.

“I can… I can help,” Stoick spoke again, resting his hand on Hiccup’s shoulder. Hiccup was hit with another spike of irritation at the idea. He didn’t want to admit it but he was sure his Dad knew, and he knew that Hiccup knew exactly what he was referring to, “But these things have always been… difficult.”

His Dad’s hand was meaty and thick, warm not in a comfortable way, but in a palm sweat sort of way, which he could feel even through his fur vest.

He might’ve felt proud another time, to have his father do something that would usually be symbolic of his pride, but.

He didn’t like it.

“Then don’t,” Hiccup snapped again, though his tone of voice was sort of questioning, which perhaps made it sound just a bit more snarky. Hiccup threw his arms wide as he spoke and then dropped them again, “I wasn’t following her and I’m fine on my own. I don’t want your help, if it means you’ll just be glaring at her the whole time.”

He was sure that really didn’t win him -Hiccup or Stoick- any brownie points. It definitely didn’t win his Dad any with Hiccup, not that that mattered. 

He wasn’t sure exactly why his Dad was doing this; there really didn’t seem to be a point. What was there for him to vet?

His Dad sighed heavily, “You’re not… friends?”

Hiccup looked down, straining and grabbed his collar to look on the part of his shirt on the inside by his beck.

There it was.

There was a bead half hidden under his collar where the twine keeping his collar closed looped into one of the few purposeful holes in his tunic, the string emerging facing outwards, towards the world, on the other side.

The wooden one.

It pressed against his collarbone uncomfortably, pressed gently closer to his chest by the fabric, but he didn’t care.

He let go of his collar frustratedly and he tried to come up with an answer for his Dad.

“We’ve been friends. Acquaintances, ” Hiccup insisted, clenching his jaw a bit harder than he perhaps had to afterwards.

The tension between the two was palpable, and like a clogged pipe, and as it usually did, Hiccup was certain it was bound to explode soon.

He wished his Dad would get the message, the hair on the back of his neck standing up, the same way he was sure Toothless’ would when he was frustrated if he had any.

Just as Hiccup expected things to hit a mild and subtle crescendo and as he expected to meet face to face with the mildest version of his father’s temper, Stoick spoke again.

“...I’m sorry.”

Hiccup was startled, “What?”

His father wasn’t one for apologies. Even after he’d tamed Toothless, he’d never gotten an apology. No, just an ‘I’m proud,’ though for him, that was all they needed.

Stoick sighed exhaustively, then spoke gruffly, yet slowly as if choosing his words with caution, the same way he did during a dispute with the other villagers, instead of in the commanding way he spoke to Hiccup,  “I’m… I apologize. For how I behaved, earlier.”

Like most things, all the other words that needed passing between them went unsaid, but as it went since the Red Death, Hiccup got the message anyways.

His Dad started listening instead of standing immovably, commanding Hiccup more than he ever opened his ears, which was never. For the most part.

But, something tickled at the back of his mind, and with exhaustive clarity, he came to a sort of realization.

The way he said it, it kind of reminded him of the few times he’d let Gobber coach him on what to say, and the few times he’d let Gobber reenact his ideal family make-up scenario; Which, of course, Hiccup himself had never put much stock in.

Hiccup remembered all the times he’d taken advice from his mentor; when he was a kid, putting eggs in his shoes to deter trolls, Gobber telling him to drop his socks in the forge furnace because they’d be fine, just cleaner after; using Yak for everything…. Hiccup was pretty sure the whole yak thing was a hoax.

“It’s alright, Dad,” Hiccup said reluctantly though not without honesty. He was still too sour to apologize, which was one thing he and his Dad usually had in common, at least when it came to each other. 

He had no idea how it started, but they were both equally as stubborn, and he had a hard time feeling sorry right then, anyways.

Flirting, dating advice form Gobber when he was still into Astrid, which never worked, friend-making advice, dad-talking-to advice, which seemed to be the only kind of advice Hiccup could take from him without it blowing up in his face, not that he’d ever actually tried it yet. 

It was just the principle of it; things usually ended up going wrong anyways the moment Gobber opened his mouth, something Hiccup seemed to pick up from him just the same.

This had Gobber written all over it. And Hiccup was sour at the fact that it was beginning to work.

“Still,” Hiccup said, slouching and grumbling petulantly, though he was slightly pleased at being on the other end of thai conversation for once, “...You should stop taking advice from Gobber.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, trying to keep your legs from giving out.

You propped yourself against the cool side of another hut, deep in Berk’s village, trying to keep quiet in case there were any Vikings inside sleeping, as if you were trying to creep around a set of thin tripwires.

Your hands were shaking as you went over the events of the last few hours in your mind as you stumbled through the village, face heated.

The vial, you pulled gently from your waist wrappings. It was glowing slightly where some of the water had soaked into the cork stopper

[apprenticestanheight]

Imagine rimming/pegging Adam for the first time and hes all sarcastic and sassy like convinced he wont really like it even saying youre a perv (like the smart ass he is), then the second you start hes whimpering like a bitch and spreading his legs and begging for more <3

Pegging Adam Stanheight Headcanons + blurb

OH MY GOD ANON thank you for opening the floodgates with this one. It feels like it's been AGES since I last wrote for Adam (i've spent a lot of my time focused on an AU with Lawrence and trying to get a couple ideas for other characters to work on on my off days lol) and writing a fic involving pegging just felt like the right move to make so--here's this??

I also also also am SUPER SORRY for how long this has taken--if you've looked at my blog since I started last week, you'd know I work a really fuckin weird rotating schedule and twelve hour days. This has been marinating in my inbox since before I started working, however, and before then I was just demotivated and so anxious it borderlined upon debilitating. I really hope you enjoy this one and that it makes up for the time you spent waiting for it to come out. Also hope you're okay with headcanons and a little bit of a blurb as the fic format, as it made more sense mentally for me to do it that way.

Fic type - this one is SMUT!! y'all should know what that means by now, too--minors, GO AWAY!! This fic is for those 18+ and if I see you interacting I will not hesitate with my bestie, the block button.

Warnings - pegging, praise, begging, the use of a strap-on, I wanted to get this out today so it's also unedited, and again, MDNI!!

All right, to start, you are the one who finds it interesting first. You spend a solid week wherein all of your horniest thoughts consist of Adam pinned to the bed beneath you, one of your hands holding his chin while he whimpers bc the strap-on you're using is so big and you're moving at a pace that's so slow he almost hates it.

Adam finds it mildly interesting--he's thought about it once, decided he might not like it but also decides to bring it up to you one random night bc you're both high, exhausted, and horny.

So, now you're wondering how it gets brought up, right?

WHHAAAAAAAAAAALEEEEEE, Adam brings it up half asleep, when you're both in the aforementioned state of high and horny and also very exhausted.

"How would you feel about pegging, baby?" and then you're pulling him close bc he's not close enough (his chin is tucked into the crook of your neck and you can smell the mint and cigarettes that he emanates even when he's not smoking. You just want to meld yourself to him bc when you get high, yeah time ceases to be something you believe in but when you're high with Adam you're the clingiest person Jersey ever did see)

and you're saying "yeah, that would be fun, Adam," bc it has consumed your thoughts wholly for a solid two or three weeks by then, but you're wanting to be chill about it.

both of you are completely out to the world like, five minutes thereafter.

It does, however, get brought up the next night. He agrees to it pretty easily, says that the two of you can try it the next time you have sex and if neither of you like it then that's that, and if he doesn't like it, then you respect his boundaries enough to respect that about him.

You buy a strap-on on a compete whim from a sex shop near your apartment on a random wednesday, buy lube that day too bc sex safety and all.

Both of them wind up being used on a friday night, when Adam is stressed bc post-saw vet school has taken it's toll and if he has to study one more minute, he'll lose his mind.

You have dom/sub dynamics in the sexual aspect of your bedroom and both of you are switches, and Adam asks if you have the necessary things to peg him and laughs when your face just lights up at the idea.

You prep him, and the entire time that goes on, Adams like "I'm unsure about how this'll feel, but if it's not my thing, meh. I don't think I'll like it but trying it will have been decent, at least."

AND THEN YOU START

and Adam is still thinking he's probably not gonna enjoy it as much as you will.

"When did you become such a perv, baby?" is said by him in a few different variations when you're prepping + rimming him. It eggs you on and he knows that, wants whatever comes with it.

And then, you actually start pegging him--the strap-on you bought is a fairly large eight inches in length, a fairly thick girth, and blue just because, and seeing him beneath you is probably akin to seeing the handsomest man to ever exist?? maybe??

SO ANYWAY, you start, and Adam goes from thinking he won't really like it to needing you to bottom out like, instantly. He likes how it feels to be split open in that way, doesn't so much as TRY to hold back his moans.

He does try to look away, though--he's loud and proud of it but also somewhat embarrassed bc he's not really one to be submissive in the relationship (you work in marketing and deal with people all day so you come home wanting to be fucked into thoughtlessness more than he)

you, however, don't let him, and when you push into him another inch and a half, he moans lewdly while staring directly at you. it's one of the hottest things you've ever seen.

When you finally bottom out, pressing a kiss to the sweet spot on his neck as one of your hands goes to his cock, Adam is feeling so amazing that he's convinced he'll start seeing stars.

You've heard Adam beg but a few times since you'd started dating, and it's been amazing every single time.

That night, he begs so much that you're sure you could bottle it and use it to get black-out drunk, should you have pleased.

He spreads his legs a bit more to let you have better access and moans when you start from a different but better angle.

He becomes a mess SO QUICKLY TOO IT'S THE FUCKING HOTTEST THING

all in all?? pegging him is one of the best decisions you could've made for your relationship bc both of you love it so much

-

"Oh my God, Y/N," he's moaning, helplessly, as you thrust quickly into him. "Oh my God. Please, please, please don't stop. Please--fuck."

"I know," you kiss the sweet spot on his neck, quickening the pace of your hand on his dick. "You're taking me so good, Adam. This is one of the best things I've ever seen. You're so hot, beneath me and begging to come, mm?"

Adam is so blissed out that he's almost not thinking, and when he comes he already knows he's gonna be a thoughtless mess from your ministrations. He's cock-drunk, loving the way that your strap-on fills him up and never wanting that to end.

"Fuck," he moans, not even trying to suppress the sound. "So close, Y/N. I'm--ah!"

You laugh, kissing his cheekbone as ropes of his come spurt from his dick and paint his stomach.

"You're so cute when you're cock-drunk like that," you laugh again. "You liked it?"

You're pulling out of him, slowly, as he nods. "Yeah," he says. "I loved it, actually."

You clean up his stomach and clean up yourself, having come from the feeling of the strap-on against your clit and the sound of Adams moans. When you climb into bed with him again, he pulls you close and holds you tightly.

"I love you, Y/N," he says.

"I love you too, Adam," is your, admittedly very exhausted sounding, response. "Next time I peg you, you're riding me while I sit with my back against the headboard. You love that position when I'm the one doing the riding, and I wanna know what the fuss is about."

Adam laughs, kisses your collarbone and gives your ass a cheeky little smack in form of a response.

You fall asleep not soon after, naked and cozy in each others arms.

[lilith-little-world]

The Oracle|| The Isekai’d Oracle|| Concept Oneshot 6

Sorry for posting much lately. This week has been extra busy for me and had drained my creative writing energy. It wasn't until a few hours ago, I finally came up with something. A big storm came again and I got inspired. So here is some angst. Also, it's unedited let's hope things are written correctly. Remember you can request or ask questions.

A storm rages outside, trying to tear apart the world. The temple stays resilient, seeing storms way worse through its time. A celestial being watches the rain fall from the sky. The piercing thunder tore through the air shaking the world. 

Wukong wasn't one to reminisce, choosing to forget about it. Especially now knowing how he made so many mistakes. Too late to regret or apologize, the only option is to sadly continue on. Yet here he was, thinking about someone he tried to forget. Deep down, this was only one of many choices he regrets.

Wukong couldn't wrap his head around how you would sacrifice everything. The only thing tying you to this world and abandoning it. All for what? Why sacrifice everything for him? 

He doesn't have a clue, even after all this time. You said it will make sense in the future. Even when he matured and saw how his past actions weren't the best. Wukong still couldn't understand your reasoning.

“Ah, why am I remembering her now? It doesn’t matter, that spirit is long gone.” He said, trying to calm his loud mind. 

A faint memory of you worms its way into his mind. How you would try to secretly visit him when he got trapped under that mountain. During that time, he chalked it to guilt. Yet even in the strongest of storms, you ventured out to visit him. 

Is that the reason why he's out on the porch and waiting? That, maybe, you'll show up and keep him company like the old times. 

His chest feels tight, throat burning. The thought set free an emotion he tried to kill and bury. 

It was useless to cry now. 

Too late for tears.

“Why are you here?”

“Is it a crime to just want to keep someone company?” 

“Maybe if you have caused someone’s current imprisonment.” 

“Call me a weak coward all you want, but I'm not strong or brave like you. I can't face the whole celestial army. When the Jade Emperor asks you a question, you answer truthfully.” You huff. Looking away annoyed, regardless that guilty expression took over. 

The atmosphere was tense. 

“So you can meet the Jade Emperor? Then will you pass on some words for me?”

“I swear, you want me to get exiled.” The spirit sat beside Wukong, getting comfortable.

“Oh please, you're a spirit. Not like being exiled will do anything.”

“No, but it takes a lot to tie me to this world, and I'll be in big trouble if I am cut off from it.”

“I see a win-win situation here.”

“You're such a rude little monkey.”

The spirit crosses her arms, slightly offended by his words. Wukong couldn't help but smile at her reaction. 

‘Perhaps having her company wouldn't be so terrible.’

The thunder roared, mercifully tearing Wukong away from that memory. 

A memory that is best forgotten with the rest.

He was about to head back into the temple. Ready to end this tiring day. When a blast of energy blasted through. 

A familiar blast of pure warm energy.

Wukong faces where the blast originated. A busy city, he doesn't travel to. 

Megapolis.

A part of him wanted to believe that he imagined it. However, the blast had blown away the storm clouds. Leaving a ring of clouds exposing the blue sky. 

Wukong wanted to check to see if you were actually there. However, he didn't move.

How can he face you after everything? 

Could it be possible for you to even accept an apology? Do you even want to see him?

No, it's better if he stayed out of it. Wukong won't be able to live with himself if his actions hurt you again.

“It's for the best.” He said while walking back into the temple. Wanting nothing but to forget the past.

[yourstrulyaiko]

o𓆩♡𓆪; MY HAPPY ENDING PT.5 | HEADCANON 𓆩♡𓆪  

╰┈➤ featuring; boku no hero academia! drummer! bakugou katsuki! x lead singer! fem! reader  

જ about; Heartbreaks. Aches. Dreams shattered. You feel like there was no bridging between you and your goal as an artist. Especially since the bridge that connected you that was your ex-boyfriend, Shindo, who you met at club. Now, that you’re separated. You thought, that was it. No more. Well, you thought wrong.

જ contents and warning; profanity cause bakugou is on it, asshole bakugou, cigarettes, smoking, angst, drummer bakugou, band au, fluff, romance, drama, paparazzi, cheating, break ups, toxic relationships, getting physical (the bad kind) and many more that I have definitely missed.

જ author's note; I actually have a lots and lots of chapter about band au which needs to be revised and re-written. unedited.

First therapy sessions are nerve-wracking.

You were really fucking anxious ironic ngl ahaha.

And you have to go there regularly at this therapy office cause you know

mental health. mental health is free unfortunately.

Apparently tho you have to go to the same damn therapist office as Bakugou.

Imagine your shock when you see him there. Bakugou at the therapist office.

“Oi!” He barks, “The fuck do you think are you doing here?”

The audacity of this man.

“Well, what the fuck do you think I’m here for? A tea party?” You scoff.

You don't want to entertain this man so you just ignore his angered 'HUH?!' Frankly, you're already stressed and you don't want to pile onto it.

Bakugou grumbled and stamps his way to the seat opposite yours.

Thank fuck.

You don't him sitting next to you.

As the time clicks away. Both you and Bakugou are both beginning to feel anxious.

You're drumming your fingers on the plastic chairs you're sitting on and his leg bouncing up and down.

The shaking is making a jiggling noise of his keys from his pocket.

It's making you feel even more nervous.

"Stop that." You hiss.

"You fucking cut it off. That shit is annoying." Bakugou barks back.

"Like you're not the loud one, dip shit."

You're defo making it worse. You could just stay quiet but your mother has said you were born without a zip on your mouth.

Thankfully, your therapist comes out.

"Well, you two are getting along well." Nemura laughs, "Sorry, to cut the sexual tension short, Bakugou. I'm going to need (Last name) with me now."

Angry. You get up and take your ass into her office and sit yourself on the a chair.

Not gonna lie, it feels so uncomfortable the thought of sharing your problems with a stranger for them to pick apart.

You didn't even hear ask how you are. You just stared at your hands on your lap,

Then, Nemura ask again.

"(Last name)." She finally gets your attention, "How are you?"

"Wel... I mean... I'm here so, I'm not okay."

Nemura laughs.

"Darling. People don't just come to therapy just cause they have a problem. They come here for a good mental health in general."

You stay quiet for a while. You're appreciative that she's patient with your answer.

You tell her, you're not because you can't get over your boyfriend.

There's still nights that you would still sob yourself to sleep. It's been reoccurring.

You left out the part where he's choked you out before.

She doesn't have to know that, right?

After all, Shindo didn't mean it. He just wants the best for both you.

He's always pushing you to the best of your abilities.

Nemura drops a question that makes you uncomfortable

"Do you still call him?"

You clench your jaw.

Don't lie. Your brain screams

"No."

She can sense that you're lying. But she doesn't press things on,

You'll open up eventually.

"Why do you think you still cling onto him?"

You reach your neck and scratching it.

A sign of a soothing behaviour

"I don't know... Maybe cause he loves me and I love him."

Now, she turns the table back to you, "How so?"

Nemura wants you to clarify. Especially when she caught the word 'maybe'

A sign of uncertainty.

It makes you stop on your tracks.

How so?

How does Shindo show he loves you?

You're sure he loves but how does he show it?

"He... He says sorry after he..."

What?

Hurts you.

Nemura looks you encouraging to say it. Admit it.

But, you're so ashamed.

So humiliated.

"After we argue."

"After an argument, you and your romantic partner are supposed to sit down, communicate and comprimise. That is what a partner is supposed to do."

Supposed to.

You're speechless. You can't form words together.

What are you supposed to say?

This is what you thought love was? This is the impression you have.

You chew the inside of your cheek trying to dissociate yourself from the conversation.

Wiping your hands from the fabric of your sweatpants.

You swallow the ball forming in your throat trying to hold back your tears.

"Not all forms of love is great. Not all is healthy. Some will tell you this is the right way. It happens. Sometimes walking away is the best form of love." Nemura says.

"What if you give it your all? You're happy. Everything is great. They have everything they want at home. Why do people still walk away?"

You're crying at this point.

You don't understand anything at all.

"Because temptation is everywhere and selfishness is still human. But, that is up to the person to fall for it and stray from the path or keep going the path home."

It hurts your chest. It's hard to breath.

It feels like someone is keeping your head underwater and won't let you up

You still don't understand. More like you refuse to understand.

Selfishness is not human.

How can it be?

You slowly emerge out the door and shutting it behind you.

You forgot that Bakugou was sat there.

You're a whole ass mess. You have tears still streaming down your face.

You're staring off blankly before making your way out of the place.

You don't acknowledge the blonde at all.

He's looking at you. He doesn't say anything.

You leave.

Slowly, more tears began to drip.

You use the sleeves of your hoodie to wipe away the tears but more began to flow.

Then you began to break down and rack in hysterical sobs.

It's painful.

Nemura's words echoed in your head, "Sometimes, we're taught to receive the love we think we deserve."

TAGS

@nonomesupposedto @dumb-cxm-slxt @xviternity @bluebreadenthusiast @chuugarettes @somebodyfuture3

[iznsfw]

extra chapter for the final, like 12 members come together and celebrate Christmas together in a cafe or something with background music from Hyewon song winter poem~

Home for Christmas

IZ*ONE

2,615 words

Categories | happy times no angst this time, slight NSFW jokes, a fandom inside joke now and then

Something short, soft and fluffy to end the year ❤ I tried to give each member their own spotlight/"screentime," so sorry if it's a bit messy!

Also very unedited lolz

Café? Booked. Food? Served. The girls?

Well... not here.

Eunbi's starting to get nervous. She's planned this for months, and they all agreed to go. But it's five minutes past the set time, and not one former member has showed up yet. The food would go to waste if they don't come, and her heart would be broken to pieces.

Eunbi's sure that she can't stand missing an opportunity to unite with them. The disbandment was one thing, but another opportunity being missed? After all the months she's been without them? No, she can't bear that.

Now that the holidays have rolled up, there's a lot of free time in their schedules to time a reunion. And today is the date they chose. But they're still nowhere to be found.

"Still not here, hon?" asks the man behind the counter, AKA the man Eunbi has looked up to as a second father ever since the day she worked in this café. He was kind enough to let her reserve the café just for IZ*ONE, saying he'd cook the meals and prepare the fanciest plates. Eunbi is eternally grateful to him for that, but she's afraid that all that would go to waste. Like he had asked, the members are still not here.

She shakes her head. "No," she says in a small voice.

He smiles at her tenderly. "They'll be here any second, Eunbi-ya, don't worry."

She appreciates everything he's done for her: plastering her posters and fansite photos all over the walls of the café, taking care of her, and helping her prepare this reunion. But she doesn't really believe in don't worry anymore. It's all she's ever been told to do, but it's easier said than done when her life is just so... busy. One wrong move can bring her and her efforts down the gutter. Even the considerably smaller things like these.

But what's so small about IZ*ONE? These girls do not fit the word when there are eleven of them, but in the metaphorical sense, they are Eunbi's home. They are her big, ridiculously and loveably rambunctious family she would give her life for. This reunion can look as small and unmeaningful to an outsider, something that can be brushed off like a leaf falling onto one's shoulder. But it isn't small to Eunbi. One wrong thing about it all will make her freak out.

Still, she nods. "Got it." Her hopes may be lost, but she wants to show at least a speck of self-assurance, even in front of the man to whom she's shown all her vulnerabilities to.

She looks up to say something to him. Probably a word of thanks, since he deserves to hear every appreciation in the world after what he's done for her. But his eyes are somewhere else, somewhere behind her. It unsettles her so much that she turns around to see for herself what it is.

"Boo!"

Kang Hyewon, always the prankster. One would expect grace from such a pretty woman, but Hyewon breaks those expectations, just like she almost does to Eunbi's shoulders as she seizes them.

Eunbi's heart freezes and relaxes in the same second. "Hyewon!" she says annoyedly. "It's Christmas, not Halloween!"

"No 'hi' from my pretty unnie or anything?" Hyewon asks, pouting. She knows acting cute can buy her an escape route out of anything bad when it's with Eunbi, and of course, she uses it to her advantage.

"Stop acting like that in front of oppa!" Eunbi rolls her eyes and blushes as the café owner laughs at them, but wraps her arms around the girl anyway. She missed her too much to be more annoyed. Far too much.

Hyewon accepts that there will be no "hi" from her unnie because she gets a hug to make up for it. She loves Eunbi's hugs, and how tiny the leader feels in her arms. They bring her a sense of comfort. Going without the hugs especially since she and Eunbi were roommates during IZ*ONE days has been particularly difficult.

"I brought guests," Hyewon says cheekily.

Eunbi cocks her head to the side with a question written on her face. But there is her answer, standing in the doorway: her girls.

"Unnie, hiii! " Minju yells out in an uncharacteristically loud voice. Her adorable grin melts Eunbi's heart. Minju possesses the smile of a younger boy's first love. It's no wonder that her fans look like they're about to pass put whenever she approaches them. "Long time no—"

"Wow, you really didn't greet Hyew-unnie at all?" Yuri asks with mock distaste. Trust her to always find a way to spark a fight with Minju. Her hair is no longer red—it's become jet black, cut short at her shoulders. "You're so impolite, Minju."

"Hey! I didn't mean it like that! Plus, we already met—"

"Ohhh, stop it, you guys," says Yena. Normally she'd join in the fight to get Minju even more worked up, but it seems that the cheeky duck went through character development over the past few months. She slaps her stomach in emphasis. "Let's just get in, shall we? I'm starving!"

Yujin nods. "So am I!"

"And me!" Chaewon says. Her bob cut is stunning. Hitomi's twirling the short strands of black as she speaks.

"Well then let's just get in!" Wonyoung speaks for all of them with a tone of authority. As usual, she's dressed in impeccable clothes. Her fashion taste has evolved as she grew up into the woman she is now. She's gotten thinner, though, Eunbi has noticed worriedly. She makes a mental note to coax her more food later.

But at this moment, all Eunbi can think about is how happy she is. Everyone had shown up just when her hopes were fading. Everyone looks happy. That's all that matters to her.

-

Heaping bowls of white rice and fried rice top the tables. The café owner sets them along with variations of fish and chicken. Traditional and modern food blend together on the plates. The scent alone makes Wonyoung full. Hyewon, however, doesn't mind eating up even the leftovers.

"Oppa makes the best tteokbeoki!" Eunbi boasts to all of them. She hands Nako some utensils, and the small woman immediately gets the hint to pass them all to the others. "Once you eat some, you'll never want to stop."

"Don't flatter me, Eunbi," he laughs with a shake of his head. He gives Wonyoung a drink and hands Sakura a napkin. He starts to scoop delicious food onto the round plates.

Sakura looks up at him with a blinding smile. "I'll have to try it out for myself to decide."

"Please do," he says graciously. "It's not everyday we get to have Miyawaki Sakura herself over for Christmas."

Sakura is a star wherever she goes. The main attraction in IZ*ONE maintains her spotlight in Lesserafim, only this time there are more eyes on her. But she's still humble in real life, when the cameras cut and the curtains are drawn.

"What do you call me then, oppa?" Eunbi complains. "I literally worked here!"

"Or me?" says Yena. She has the Choi Yena look on her face right now: drawn eyebrows, wide eyes, and a pair of plump lips open to let out her fighting spirit. "You know Smiley, right? 'Push, swipe—"

"Wrong song, that's Smartphone!" Yujin cackles, almost pushing Wonyoung over due to her laughs. The youngest is laughing, too, but at a calmer level. Or maybe it just looks that way since Yujin is just relentless when she's in a state of joy.

"Can't even get her own song right," Nako teases.

"Hey, fuck you—"

"Want a drink, Nyeong?"

Wonyoung raises a glass of sizzling soda. Chaewon watches the bubbles rise to the surface observantly, seemingly spacing out again. "Already have one."

"No, I mean, like a drink drink." Nako points to the bottle of beer at the center of the table. "You're nineteen now. You don't want to try?"

"Nako," Eunbi says warningly. Wonyoung may have turned of age, but she was still a baby in her eyes. There's no way in hell she's going to let her drink so early.

"Come on, Minju took Yujin out for drinks when she turned nineteen," reasons Nako with an innocent shrug.

"Ya! I told you not to tell Eunbi unnie that!" Minju protests.

"I trusted you, unnie!" Yujin moans, covering her face in embarrassment.

"Eunbi unnie has been drinking, she won't mind," Hitomi makes a clever reference to an old inside joke that even the fans know.

Chaeyeon cackles. Her hand finds the perfect victim to channel her happiness: the wooden table. Each reverbating slap causes the surface to shudder. "It's true, she has," she confirms for everyone's convenience. "She's been sending me drunk texts, like 'ohhh Jjaeyeonie! I miss Sakura so much! She—'"

"Ya—"

"—'I wish I didn't leave her hanging—'"

"—shut up, Chaeyeon, you're just jealous!"

"Jealous? There's nothing to get jealous over with Kkura, it was a one-night fling!"

"No one said it was related to— wait, you and Sakura had a fling?!"

"Okay, maybe we did get into a relationship," admits Chaeyeon. There's no reason to hide it now; everyone at the table is listening to her attentively. "Maybe we did try to fuck during Fiesta, but that's all in the past now."

"Hey, Wonyoung and Yujin are listening!" scolds Sakura. Her face is beet red, too. All her secrets are poured out in the open on what is supposed to be a happy reunion night. "Keep it PG-13 here."

"I'm not thirteen anymore, unnie!" Wonyoung whines. Everyone in her former group seems to forget that fact about her: she's not a child anymore. She can see why they won't loosen their grasp on her childhood days, however. She's practically grown up in front of their eyes. In addition to that, she was quite young when she joined Produce 48.

The only one to treat her like an actual adult is Hyunseo, her new group Ive's maknae. Everyone here just marvels at Wonyoung's maturity as if she didn't have cameras in her face since she was a kid.

Still, as Yena hugs her comfortingly and pats her cheek, Wonyoung decides that she doesn't mind their babying at all. Her eleven older unnies are unhinged, wild, and ruthless, but they're still her unnies. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Yujin has had less of the baby persona haunting her now that she's the leader of Ive. Sometimes Wonyoung becomes wistful for the old Yujin, who played around and joked with her. But that doesn't mean that the puppy Ahn Yujin has completely gone away. She sees it when Yujin's dimples show as she laughs and smiles, when she leans over to rest her head on Wonyoung's shoulder, when she still struggles with her shoelaces.

You can say that she's just a little bit in love.

"Right," Sakura says, breaking Wonyoung's train(wreck) of thoughts. Her former fellow center reaches over to pat her hand. "I'm sorry, Wonyoung-ah."

"It's okay, unnie," responds Wonyoung. It's totally fine—she truly cherishes moments like these where little unintended slip-ups lead to the loudest of laughs. Everything is so serious nowadays.

"Do you still want to drink?" Nako asks hopefully.

"Nako-ya," asks Chaewon, suspicious because of Nako's repeated inquiries for a drinking partner, "are you drunk?"

"Who are you, Hitomi?"

"Hey, that's my line!" Hyewon protests. She's already had numerous lines retracted from her during IZ*ONE. She's not about to let anyone steal her one-liners as well.

"What do you mean? I said that," Hitomi says. Hyewon notices that, like her, she eats little. She only took three large bites and drank the blue lemonade.

"I know, Hiichan. I was talking about the message I sent on Bubble."

"Ohhh, now I get it."

"You're subscribed to my Bubble?" Hyewon asks in surprise.

"I'm subscribed to everyone!"

"Stalker much?" Yuri asks snarkily. She loves being a bratty snark with everyone, even to her own members. Oh, especially to them. It tips Eunbi off so much it's actually delightful to see.

"Jo Yuri, you brat," sighs Yena, shaking her head. Was this the girl she swore to marry?

Yuri throws her a playful wink. She is.

Eunbi's processing it all. She's been quiet for some time to take it all in. Sakura and Chaeyeon being... what, friends with benefits without her knowing? Minju taking Yujin out for drinks? She has no idea if she should start her lecturing now. But one day, she'll get used to the chaos IZ*ONE brings. Maybe one day.

In a parallel universe.

Where everything goes right.

Um da da da da da da da da... /

A familiar voice and a familiar tune. God, this day just likes to attack her with an onslaught of memories, huh? But the song speaks of a more recent event, some time after the disbandment.

She looks across the table. Her eyes and Hyewon's connect. Of course! It's Hyewon's song being played in the background! Who else can perfect the smooth, silky tone of voice like her?

Hyewon is embarrassed. She hides her face with her hand as all the members ooh and ahh over her and the song. "Ahhh, oppa, you didn't have to do that!" she says shyly.

He grins. "I had to. I'm a big fan of the song."

"Can you play Antifragile next?" Chaewon asks boldly. Chaeyeon is surprised at her straightforwardness, but the café owner doesn't look like he's fazed by it.

"Sure, no problem."

Chaewon squeals happily and reaches over the table to give Sakura a high-five. They personally dislike the song, but any promotion is good promotion.

She and Sakura have also gotten a lot closer before the redebut. Destiny always seems to find a way to tie their fates together. It was as if it were telling them to make up for the time they didn't talk much during IZ*ONE days. Imagine their surprise when Yunjin showed up at the practice room!

The universe always finds a way to bring the twelve of them together. Whether by chance or plan, they are drawn to each other like magnets. Sakura and Chaewon's redebut together, as mentioned earlier, speaks for itself. Yena, Yuri, Chaeyeon, and Eunbi are in the same field as soloists and meet occasionally at music shows. Hyewon and Minju reunited for a Prada event, and are both actresses. Hitomi and Nako are inseparable as J-pop idols. Wonyoung and Yujin made a second debut in Ive together, as they always are.

And now, with Hyewon's Christmas song accompanying their smiles, they've bumped into each other again. It's happened before countless of times, so who's to say there isn't an official reunion song up ahead? If Starship eventually becomes more lenient, and time grants them all a passageway, the chances aren't zero.

There's already contentedness in their hearts, though, as each member talks about their experiences over a large dinner, in the place where it all started for their leader. Yujin talks about missing Azzo, and her nights in Paris are all about what Wonyoung drones on about. Eunbi, of course, says how much she misses them all. Yuri and Yena become feisty again, but it hides not their true feelings of homesickness for this environment that used to be a usual, everyday thing.

Even the singing Hyewon that adds flavor to their conversations and plays from the radio knows:

I've been dreaming of today like a present like today /

Confession in December that couldn't be hidden.

With you, with you, na /

My best part is all for you /

My best part is all for you.

[quinloki]

got a little brave (see: drunk) and i've decided i DO wanna gush about my girl a little bit, because i think the dynamics i have with her and her love interests are really interesting! so rosamund has a big problem with confusing worship and love, so the way she dedicates herself to her crew is really unhealthy. shes a pacifist who has decided to go against all of her morals to do everything her crew doesn't want to or won't do that she thinks has to be done (including killing, something she is VERY against, but will do anyway to protect her friends because she sees them as more important, more worthy, than herself and her values).

she was originally made to kiss sanji, both because i love him and because i like the idea of two people putting each other on pedestals, always pushing themselves further from the other because they're so convinced of their own flaws and the other's perfection. but i accidentally made her have what i think it a very interesting dynamic with zoro, since they both see themselves as protectors of the crew.

so the way i like to describe their dynamics is how they see themselves. sanji sees himself as a knight protecting a fair maiden, and rosamund as a damsel in distress. zoro sees himself as a sort of shepherd, a defenser, and her as a wounded guard dog, a being capable of defending itself, but one that shouldn't have to. and lastly, she sees herself also as a wounded dog, but not in such a sympathetic light: she sees herself as a wounded animal, ready to bite, too lost in its own fear to see who its hurting at this point. and in all of this, none of them really fully view the other as a person, fully realized and alive; they're too young and lost in their own thoughts to fully conceptualize that maybe they're all just kids trying their best to make it in a world that isn't entirely welcoming to them. after the timeskip they'll get better about this, but in the beginning they're all so busy trying to find themselves they lose each other!

sorry if this message is kind of long or doesn't make much sense, i think i get a little lost in the conceptual parts of making an oc and not get much into the real actual plot stuff. but thank you for listening :-) eventually ill get brave and post some of the actual writing i have for her, im sitting on a whole discord channel full of unedited stuff about her

This is perfect! I love Rosamund, but what I love is that you have her so well developed in a behind-the-scenes sense that I think it'll be easy for you to get rolling once you start writing.

And what I mean is that there are lots of ways to go about things, but usually it comes down to some combination of:

Develop the world and drop archetypes (Characters) into it and let the world develop them.

Develop the characters and let them shape the world.

Develop the Story and let it paint the characters and world.

People usually do a mix of those three things, but there's nothing wrong with leaning heavily against one part over the others. When you're dealing with fan fic, because of how a lot of the characters you're using are already established to a certain point, we're all about half-way up that "develop the characters" slider XD

And so when you introduce an OC, self-insert, reader, etc. into the mix, you can give a lot more energy to your character's development because you don't need to give as much to the canon characters.

Sure, enough to adjust them to your story/world, or maybe even enough attention to do what you've done here - which is making sure you're concepts of them are internal and mapped out well enough to jive with your story ideas and OC.

I love all of this though. I love the view of Sanji and Zoro and Rosamund. Recognition of the sheer insanity of being 17-19 and having that much weight on your shoulders. Barely having the capacity to keep your own head above water and then being responsible for the safety of others. The way emotions cut deep into your muscles no matter if they're good or bad.

Ah, thank you for sharing my friend, I look forward to whatever you do and whatever you decide to share about Rosamund <3

[crownshattered]

|| *sets down my old suitcase of Grelle headcanons*

we have a lot to unpack. (btw i am currently working on iconing all of grelle's appearances in the manga, so if any of you write her and would like some unedited icons, let me know and I'll give you the link when I'm done~)

First of all, Grelle is one of my four first characters to ever write on Tumblr (and the first canon character at that). I have SO many headcanons for her, but since most of them were made while I was a freshman in high school, there's gonna be a lot of revision XDD So some of these might not make the cut!

Grelle is a transfem!! I'm going to always use she/her to describe her. However, she's a transwoman...in Victorian-era England... So she can't actually transition. And she is WAYYYYY before her time. So while I'll obviously accept she/her pronoun usage for her (and they/them as well, I don't care) I WILL accept he/him as well for ic writing. OOC, I'd prefer it if you guys called her by she/her, but it's different ic. Your character most likely doesn't see Grelle as trans because they can't even fathom what it means to be trans. So if they refer to her as he/him, that's fine, that doesn't make you transphobic or anything XDD In fact, I kind of expect most characters to call her he/him due to the era this series takes place in. All this is to say... We flexible with pronoun usage~

Grelle, Grell, whatever you want to call her. The first translation I ever read (and the one I'm reading now) calls her "Grelle", so that's what I keep. Technically, my headcanon is that her birth name is Grell Sutcliff, but she added the "e" at the end to make it look more feminine~

I used to have her be from France initially!! I think I'll keep that. However, she ran away from home fairly early in her years and went to London, where she eventually died. And...she was a serial killer before she died. No surprises there. I actually have tons of headcanons about that era of her life, but I don't want to unpack all of that right now~

Grelle was definitely in a romantic relationship with Madam Red. Grelle is bi, probably male-leaning, and I think Angelina was the first person Grelle ever loved romantically. I obviously won't force this on any Madam Red roleplayers if I come across any, but yeah. Red ladies murder power couple~

At one point I had a headcanon that reapers secretly (even secretly to them) have an additional power that connects to their "reason" for dying, which is why Grelle could change her hair color when she first revealed herself. However...there is SO much to unpack with that and I think I might just throw that headcanon away and try to think of a different explanation for how that happened 🤷‍♀️

I'M A MANGA-ONLY GIRLIE. Sorry, I don't know shit about the anime-exclusive arcs. I could never quite get behind those. They always seemed half-baked to me, and maybe my opinion would change now that I'm older, but I don't have easy access to the anime so I'm not bothering XDD I have seen the OVA of Grelle and William, but that was 7 years ago?? I think??? So I barely remember anything except the fact that they knew each other since training~

Also, adding onto that, I don't love how the anime arcs portrayed Grelle... I mean yeah, she's a comedic (and fucked up) character, but from what little I remembered, she seemed like more of a joke than an actual character. It feels like the manga takes her more seriously, if that makes any sense..?? Again, maybe my thoughts would be different if I watched the anime again but I don't plan to any time soon so oh well~

ummmmm that's it for now??

[historia-vitae-magistras]

The WW1 fic with India and Canada was one of my favorites! And in no are fics set in WW1 repetitive :( its a really interesting time period for the world and it makes a lot of sense to focus in on it

Here it is! Ancient fic, set in February of 1916. Aditya saved Matt's ass at the Second Battle of Ypres the previous April, and I think they have a good rapport. Please note this fic dates to early 2019 or earlier, and I might have missed some cultural points. It is mostly unedited but cross-posted to Ao3.

February 1916

"When did you learn Hindi?" Aditya asks in the morning during rotation. Matthew's soldiers are coming off the line, and the Indian divisions are moving in. It's the same routine as usual. Men slowly trickle out under the cover of darkness, and others creep in. Soldiers rouse each other with hands on shoulders and single fingers pressed to mouths. Quiet is key. There's no oil left in the lamps, and the braziers are banned here since the last dugout fire, and it is cold. Bitterly, bitterly cold. Matt squats across from Aditya in front of the tiny camp stove, shaded from the enemy by a windbreak of scrap iron and pours tea into mugs, handing one over when it looks an appropriate shade of brown. Aditya looks down at it apprehensively but doesn't turn his nose up at Matt's shit attempt. He even holds it close. Matt feels grubby next to him and doesn't know how Aditya keeps himself a fair sight cleaner than any Canadian, officer or otherwise, considering the weather. Even Matt's fingers are blue when he pulls back his gun mitts to hold the tea and breathe in the steam.

"I didn't," Matt shrugged. "Only know little pieces,"

"I saw you this morning." Aditya looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Bypassed the officers and went right to the sergeant. And the sergeant doesn't speak English,"

"So you saw me gesturing like a windmill then," Matt gave a snort.

"You've got enough to get the point across,"

"Barely. And they needed to know about the funk holes. Three collapsed on us in the last week. Killed a man in his sleep. Officers usually forget their men don't sleep in beds in the dugout."

Aditya hummed, satisfied with the answer and gave a smile. They're rare on the front, but more common on the first day of a rotation than the last.

"Tell me," Aditya passed the mug between his hands, as if he was debating taking a drink of not. Matt didn't blame him. The water had smelled brackish even before he'd added tea. "Was the first word you learned vegetable? Or was it curry?"

"Neither," Matt shrugs. "Sorry,"

"What for?" Aditya frowned. "You're young still. You haven't finished growing. We'll make a fluent speaker out of you yet."

"No," Matt rolled his shoulders, a little embarrassed and resisting the urge to duck a bit. "The first word I learned. It was 'sorry,'"

Aditya snorts in amusement. "Of course it was." He takes a sip and grimaces.

"I make godawful cup of tea, sorry,"

"That you do." Aditya set the cup back down on the stove. "Though the fault is not entirely yours. Army tea is... regrettable,"

"What about the fucking army isn't regrettable?" Matt snorted, dug around his coat for the flask of grog he'd saved from the dinner rations the night before. He offered it up like a toast, at a jaunty angle, shaking it a little. Aditya shook his head, shrugged and made a small "Mm, why not," sort of sound. He held out the cup and Matt gave each of them a glug or two.

Face twisted up in a grimace Aditya shakes his head. "That never gets better. How do you drink that ever day?"

"Only England's finest paint thinner for Arthur Kirkland's third favorite son," Matt said bitterly, knocking back half the mug in two gulps. He wished he still had some of the bourbon Alfred had sent in his last care package. Aditya's brow furrowed. Matt drank more to escape his gaze. Even as sharp and foul as army grog was, it sent ribbons of warmth across his body, gave him courage when he didn't have any left, steadied his nerves. They're sitting in peaceable silence now, just the whistle of the wind through the grates. No gunshots, no gurgling wounded, no screaming dead. In moments like that, Matt thinks he might make it his next birdsongs with his sanity intact. But not in silence. He's used to Jack filling up the quiet with movement, with his inane chattering to anyone and anything. He's loud, lively, distracting.

Aditya's company is quiet, dignified. He's the sort of man Matthew gets on best with. Calm, logical, patient. He's older than them all put together. Father and Papa and the elder Beilschmidt brother are ancient to Matt. But Aditya is ancient to even them. He wonder's vaguely, if there's anything under the sun that satisfies anymore when someone got that old. Much of his own father seems deadened by the centuries. But Father doesn't grimace at the taste of army rum and army tea.

"What do you drink?" Matt asks, thinking of the spiced tea he'd had behind the lines once when the Indian divisions had swapped camp with the French on his flank.

"Anything warm," Aditya laughs, sits back onto a pile of sand bags and lifts his cup. "Tin of piss or not. At least its warm,"

"I mean at home."

"There are as many kinds of tea as there are languages in my country," Aditya shrugged placidly. "I have loved every one,"

"You can't drink every single one every day thought!" Matt returned. Aditya was hard to read but Matt did his best, searching him for… something. "What do you actually like to drink?"

Aditya frowns at him and turns Matt's scan back on him. Old countries scanning for suspicious intent drag a sort of weight along with their observation, a heaviness of centuries. Matt doesn't hide anything on his face around Aditya. He has no reason too. And Aditya could probably read anything he did try to hide anyway. Aditya has always been a distant presence, but he had dragged Matt out of Ypres the year before and had never been unkind, before or since. Eventually, Aditya smiled, as if satisfied with what he had found on Matt's face.

"Palm wine," He finally says and his eyes are thousands of miles away, at home. "It's rather sweet but you take the sap from certain kinds of palm tree, and it ferments quickly. Sometimes within a couple of hours its enough. Or you can let it sit and it will get stronger and more sour, but it’s a delight!"

His voice sounded nostalgic, homesick. Matt pours them more tea, and shoves a few more pieces of coal on the anemic fire. Aditya shuffles closer.

"Sounds nice," Matt sighed, leaning into his hand. "We make maple wine. Its about the same process." He could see the maples, thin and scarlet and just out of reach. He can almost smell them, earthy and nutty on the breeze. The soil of the Canadian shield was dense, compacted by glaciers that even centuries melted Matt could feel in his veins. Mountains had once laced up and down, but eroded by the centuries. He could taste the zinc and the salt of his black soil.

"How old are you?" Aditya asked all of a sudden, startling him out of his own poisonous thoughts. Home was strength and sorrow and everything good in him but it was only weakness now. He was staring at Matt again and Matt compulsively dragged his collar up.

"Three hundred and seventeen," Matt said, sitting up straight.

"You're an infant," Aditya shook his head. "A babe in arms exposed to this."

"And I have near 200 years on Jack and Zee," Matt said. "It's not fair to them. They're too young for this."

"You're all far young for this!" Aditya shook his head. "I never thought I would see mankind progress to this level of savagery. But to drag children into it!" He made a disgusted noise that Matt associated with Arthur, but he couldn't say he disagreed.

"It's not fair on them," Matt said.

"Nor you," Aditya looked pensively into his mug. "Or I,"

Matt didn't know what to say to that. The man he'd once called Papa had been invaded. He might have found himself here, even if Dad hadn't taken up the cause and dragged the empire with him. But Aditya? He was from what Matt dimly knew as a place thousands of miles away. He'd spent half of the crown's tours of India too feverish to roll over, much less take in the sights with any coherence.

"It doesn't get easier then?" He asked very gently because he might not know the depth of Aditya's sorrow, but he knew its breadth. Every square mile of his country and the lack of it beneath his feet ached like an old scar in his chest. "Missing home as you get older?"

"A little," Aditya said. "Human pains are so very intense when we're young. But you will never outgrow it. No matter how old we are, home is home. The lack of it will always ache." He looked devastatingly sad for a moment, a centuries long grief older than Matt and maybe even Arthur had been alive. "But it is cruel, to tear you from home when you've hardly planted your roots. It is much harder to kill a plant with deep roots."

"Its not the longest I've been away," Matt said. He thought of the years he'd spent in Australia after he had indulged the screaming need for just an inkling of control in his life. He thought of the prison ship and the burning sun on his neck, unnatural and agonising on his back. But he'd had Jack, who in his way, was a sort of home too. He swallowed down something painful born of love. "I'll survive. But it never goes away? The pain?"

"Never," Aditya said. "I think your father has numbed himself to the reality of our existence. Thinks that centuries have to make one cruel or they have not been long enough. But we never lose it. Every day people are born and people die, every year we reap and we plant. We build and tear down. There is always something new as the old fades. It brings life and feeling with it. After a few centuries it… stabalises. I think. Like adulthood in a way I think. The fits of passion that come with youth settle a bit. But you won't go numb, if that's what you fear."

Matt dipped his head, nodding and hiding. Endless misery then. Endless pain in his lungs, endless wars to be dragged into. The wind seemed to blow colder then, as if to remind Matt that home or abroad, his fate still rested under the north wind to be scoured with ice as it willed. He shivered.

"You didn't fear it at all!" Aditya looked startled. "You hoped for it!" He phrased it like a question but it wasn't one. He set his mug aside and looked very intense.

"Your humanity, our ties to humanity? It's what will keep you sane when you have nothing else. Every heart that beats in your chest is a chance to do better. To be better. Wish for anything but that fading, do you understand me?" He leaned forward, hands clenching between his legs.

Matt was silent, ashamed of himself for some reason. He felt like a coward. Next to Jack, next to Zee, even next to Alfred, he was quiet and steady and mature. But under Aditya's gaze in that moment, he had never felt more like a child. Aditya looked a bit kinder when Matt got up the courage to make eye contact again.

"They," He nodded off in the direction where Matt's soldiers were packing up their kits in their preparations to march behind the lines. "Are why we're here. And they cannot numb your agony. But they can be your joy. Don't align yourself with kings and politicians. It’s the ordinary people that will keep you. Live the cycles of years with them. Celebrate spring, peace and the festivals, mourn winter and war. It's how we stay sane."

"That's why Father--"

"Has been half mad for centuries?" Aditya laughed. "Yes. I believe it is. He likes to think himself rather posh, above it all. But he isn't. None of us are. And stay that way, Matthew. Don't make yourself an exception."

[apollo-gate]

Proposal for Vanessa

Here is Vanessa.

Hope you like it. I had three scenarios go through but this was the only one that came out done and made sense.

Also completely unedited so there will be grammar issues. (Please over look please.)

You look at the ring you got for Vanessa. A part of you wants to take it back. What if she doesn't like the ring.

You pulled a few favors and spent a lot of money for the band to be made from moon ore. It will help Vanessa with more control or that's what you read up on it.

No, she will love it she loves you. She says it every time she sees you. When she holds you.

You want this you want her to know just how much you want us.

Sure a part of you knows about Adrian and what he did. Hell finding out you had more first with her made it more special.

Vanessa sat you down one day and told you why she was with him. She said it was an agreement. An agreement she regrets.

She doesn't regret her children but they pulled away from her when they found out they were getting a divorce.

Now it's time for a fresh start. You will show her she can be happy. You want to give her a reason to smile every day.

Her smile alone makes you swell with happiness and the fact someone took that for granted erks you.

You couldn't exactly plan a big thing because Vanessa is first and foremost private.

So you decided to take her to one of her favorite places.

You grip the ring box tighter. You hope she says yes. You get to the park and look around first "I love you". It couldn't be better.

You then hear thunder in the grey clouds. It should just pass over.

Meanwhile in Vanessa's office across the city.

"You can't be serious." The ambassador nods slowly. Vanessa looks at the time she could make it. "I'll go don't worry."

3 hours later…

You should have known you wouldn't have made it. Mc is going to be so mad. How can you make up for this on your anniversary no less. You tighten your hand into a fist. Next time you're going to just say do it yourself.

By the time you get to the park, it's raining very heavily at this point. You can hardly see. Mc didn't pick up their phone. You don't blame them to be angry and at home, but you weren't going to take that chance.

"Hey." you hear a voice croak out. Oh, no were they crying. You turn and see Mc soaked.

You reach for them without a second thought. They are freezing. "Bunny. Your cold." Their face is pale and their lips are blue. You need to get them warm. "Come here." You pick them up. "Let's go home." Mc isn't coherent enough but they manage to nod.

When you get home you strip them of their clothes and get dry clothes on or try to. You wrap a blanket around them and try to warm them up. You walk into the kitchen and try to make something to eat for the two of you.

By the time you are done, you see Mc start to wake up. You seat near them. "I'm sorry work got so hectic then I needed to visit this dignitary for something that-" Mc kisses you to shut your rambling apology up.

Mc looks into your eyes. You feel better looking into them. Then Mcs eyes widen. "Where is my coat?" You're confused. "It's hanging up why?" Mc doesn't answer they jump off the couch in just underwear and run. They hit the coffee table and fall forward.

You start to get up but they shout "Im ok" as they go to the closet near the door. Mc comes back with a panicked look on their face. They go to their wet clothes and dig in their pockets. Mc starts to get very upset.

You get up and reach out and touch their shoulder. "What's wrong Bunny." Mc looks at you with tears streaming down their face. "I-I wanted to propose to you. I-Lost the ring, it was beautiful and I spent months picking it out for you."

Your eyes begin to tear up. "No, you didn't have to do that. Mc, I love you. No ring matters to me." Mc places their face into your chest. "It's the thought that matters to me." Mc looks up at you "Really?" Mc says in a small voice.

"Yes, bunny." You kiss them. "So do you still want to get married," they ask almost scared of your answer? You bark out a laugh. "Yes, I'd love to get married to you. Plus I don't think I have ever loved someone as much as you Mc." Mc gets a deep blush.

You get Mc to eat and you watch as they eat happily. A thought crossed your mind. "Mc, did you by chance order a package and it did not arrive." Mc nods. "I tried it that way because I didn't have time to pick it up. But it never arrived so I went in person and they gave me another free of charge. Why?"

You remember a package was delivered but forgot about it as you both were on that stupid mission.

You get up from the glass table and walk into your storage area. You see a small box with Mc's name on it. You take it back to the kitchen with you. Mc sees it and rips it open.

Mc then pulls out a ring box. The ring box is a white metal box. Mc moves fast to get on one knee. You're blown away at the ring and at the design mc must-have design it.

The band is a silver-white color with a tint of almost gold. Then the diamond isn't too big but that doesn't matter but it's a very beautiful diamond. You feel your breath hitch in your throat. You feel overwhelmed.

Mc's eyes shine brighter to you than you have ever seen before. You've never wanted anything more than this in this

"Would you-" You tackle Mc before they can finish the question. "Of course Bunny. I will marry you. Plus you already asked." Mc laughs a little.

Mc puts the ring on your finger slowly and it fits perfectly. You feel something that warms your entire body. Your body is no longer cold. You look at Mc. They oh they didn't have to. You cup Mc's face and kiss them gently.

You want them to know how much you love them and now you can hold them. Without the fear of possibly hurting them. You can't help but cry. They didn't need to. You feel Mc's arms around you. You cling to them. You've never been so happy in your life.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

I’m the ‘unlabelled’ fandom discussion anon. Thanks for your reply, it was so useful for me and helped me clarify a lot of how I feel about all of it. It’s so interesting that Harry’s comments regarding sexuality (in relation to himself and generally) have been interpreted as a sort of ‘coming out’ (as ‘unlabelled’ / thus queer as not explicitly heterosexual) when actually he’s mostly just saying he doesn’t want to share that information publicly.

Which is such a important distinction and very different things! It’s fascinating the projection from fans (I include myself in this too as a queer person, hoping/convincing myself of complete queerness from HL and others, to feel a sense of connection, that honestly, is mostly made up— not sure if that makes sense but want to acknowledge my own part in this kind of stuff), to read everything H or L ‘say’ (both unedited and written/paraphrased in an interview/article) as being a way to say they are queer. When the majority of the time, it’s not about that at all or if anything, is them making it clear it’s private and they don’t want to share that with us.

I know fans find this super frustrating but that literally is irrelevant. It’s like your bio about their circumstances and decisions they make/can/cannot make.

Anyway sorry that was a ramble but I wanted to ask, what was that bit you said about the Hillsborough victims? I looked up the Dan Wooton article again and didn’t see Hillsborough mentioned and couldn’t figure out the link apologies 🫣 thanks so much for taking the time to reply :)

Ps. I noticed you haven’t been posting as much a couple days earlier this week, and hope you’ve been having a nice time away from tumblr/busy with your irl life. That sounds funny sorry, it’s a odd way of saying you seem really cool and you’re missed when you’re not here haha

Thanks for this lovely message anon.

I read this and my thoughts percolated a little bit more and I realised a much more succinct way of putting it. I think it's very important to distinguish between the action of not describing your sexuality to a particular audience and 'unlabelled' as an identity. There are lots of people who don't label themselves, there's a much smaller group who embrace unlabelled as an identity. Treating those two as if theyw ere the same erases lots of the complexities of queer people and queer culture.

In Harry's case, all we know is that he is very evasive when pressed to discuss his sexuality with the press and he doesn't describe his sexuality to his audience. To reduce that to 'coming out as unlabelled' is to ignore so much about what's going on.

I agree that there are parts of fandom (not all of it), which respond to the anxiety caused by uncertainty, by trying to be very sure about things. To me, insisting that 'unlabelled' means something to Harry, without any evidence at all is part of this. One of the reasons this approach to fandom makes me sad is that trying to eliminate possibilities in that way and tie everything down isn't very queer.

I answered another anon about Hillsborough - but the short answer is that anyone who talks to the Sun is not showing solidarity with Hillsborough victims.

Thanks so much for your very kind comments. I really love answering anons. Whether the anons I want to answer match the spaces I have in my day does vary, but it's very nice to hear that people appreciate them.

[sunnyrifle]

Ginji's not in control (chat copypaste)

⚠️CAUTION!! i’m not eng native, this is an unedited text from my notes, structural & grammatical errors ahead⚠️

need a lot of translation and digging to find the truth-- but also, doesn't Morita just look good in blood? while Ginji looks kind of pathetic in it? I rly like the aesthetic hehe--

for me that's his wet dog outfit haha

I mean if he's menacingly smiling like he killed someone and the blood is on his hands or face-- yeah

if HE'S bleeding-- unlike Morita, Ginji's kinda pathetic in his own pool of blood (but that's just the vibes huhu)

then again it's just bc I like breaking characters facade a lot-- for me if I'd write Morita in his own blood, he'd probably be berserk mode or post that with tears (see Kamui arc lol)

if I'd do Ginji I'd probably write him being taken by surprise with "why did it come to this" kind of emotion--

I honestly like the kinda portrayal of Ginji where he sorta anticipates where his life would go

Idk how to describe it, but like I can see Akagi being taken by surprise a lot more than Ginji lol

also unlike Akagi, Ginji was drawn taken aback by something in manga... if Akagi reacts going "ooh? go ahead, show me" then Ginji gets that drop of sweat treatment lol;;

instances I remember are 1) Ginji listening to the exposition of men cage lol 2) running to the elevator bc of Morita’s proclamation of retirement

I also don't think Ginji intended for the serial killer arc to go as it went haha--

so I'd say Ginji is very competent at putting up a front but he's never actually in control

I'd say he's the type of character who'd do this:

- look, Morita, it'll land tails (flips a coin)

it lands on heads

- heh, the coin was rigged, I planned it all along... from this, Morita, you have to learn a lesson to not believe anyone, not even yourself 

and Morita nods with a serious face and thinks "damn Ginji's so smart and handsome”

I distinctly remember when I read GtK for the first time and wasn't even crazy yet, in Kamui arc Morita was yet to get into real mess and he held a gun and was planning and scheming how to get someone from the back in the dark-- and I thought damn;; he's younger than me, he turned complete yakuza in such a short span of story omg–

then it all made sense for me, that's when GtK finally started clicking in my head

I was like yeah yeah let's see where this corruption arc goes

AND IT DOESN'T

Morita just says fuck your corruption arc dammit I'm retiring

that's!!!! peak

and they don't even do it in The straight men fashion lol

they do it with Morita crying into a pillow and Ginji RUNNING to the elevator, smoking nodding and going "yeah yeah-- it's all ugh it's all part of the plan-- I uuuh FORESEEN THIS yes.....”

kmd-san likes to say that GtK is about turning steel (tetsuo) into gold -- that you can't bend Morita's moral code because he has an iron will like that-- and wasn't that the first thing Ginji liked Morita for? that test of "kill for the money" that Morita refused... which he passed with flying colours by not accepting the premise itself "I won't kill anyone and I don't want to make money like that" was basically his answer then-- in the end, I think, Ginji caused his own downfall and their heartbreaking falling out with Morita, all by himself

ah sorry it's not just gay story it's also a nasty huge age gap story + teacher/pupil dynamics.... damn they've had a lot on their plate from the very start huh

Akira: Ginji's mistake is taking him to solo missions, should've kept the leash short haha

I mean he courted Morita into submission by giving him space for two arcs and making him believe that's what he wanted in the first place (to be by Ginji's side as a reward) but that's a very risky almost self-sabotaging strategy

almost creates an illusion it all was voluntary wish from Morita's side huhu

like what was the probability of Morita not only returning but also multiplying the profits when he's left alone 1) with measly amount of money on the rooftop 2) to double his FIRST win and return AGAIN--

Pansy: I think the missions themselves were a reward too, "because I trust you I want you to do this". but Gin's morals were too twisted to notice Mori didn't have the same perspective as him when it comes to who is good/bad

he did get help from Gin during the arc art (which makes Gin's mentality of ~lucky~ Morita feel dumb to me)

Gin was so stupid to believe Mori could just do anything.

Akira: whenever Ginji said something about luck I find myself musing about that being an elaborate form of gaslighting hahah

but as a lot of lies do, when they're repeated you start to believe them yourself

Pansy: my headcanon is that Gin fell in love with Mori at first sight, got obsessed with him and truly believed Mori was "the chosen on". he thought he was too old to fall in love again and got the feelings all mixed. His heart got confused and he blindly believed that Mori was 100% his.

Akira: "I want Morita's luck by my side"

spend years together and

"Morita's my lucky charm"

ofc when left without him Ginji's feeling like he's reaching his limits and heading to the ultimate defeat 'turning to ashes'... he's lost his lucky charm didn't he

Pansy: As you say, when they broke up I think Gin realised he still had the ability to feel that sort of pain and in the end he accepted it.

I think Gin gaslights himself more than he does to Mori

Akira: imagining Ginji falling in love with Mori at various stages of the beginning of the manga-- hehe from the early point of "yeah I know everything about you and you know nothing about me, isn't it romantic?" to the "ah you won't kill for the money, your morals are unbending like that, I know~" tease and "not only did he rescue my ass but also left us with tape evidence itself... grabs the steering wheel with a manic smile"

If followed correctly then Ginji tries to act "professionally" doing what he was proposed to do and left Morita with serial killer duty, then he gets scared and surprised by it bc Morita's losing blood in his hands, in his car... so obviously he takes a step back and goes to break up things between them right after lol he's just an old man who doesn't understand how to do things differently (is he an avoidant attachment style? lol;;)

then Morita returns to him twice and each time he's a bit different but still the same young man, and Ginji is just glad, bc somehow it works out between them right? they have roles to play and they have business to do, everything is fine... until it isn't

and in the end Ginji's left behind and Morita's retiring and the tables turn... "I know everything about you, Gin-san, and you know nothing about me" huhu

I never considered Gin would try to break up with Mori bc of feelings of guilt, or fear that Mori would die. But then in the middle of the art mission he goes "fuck it I want him BACK I will help him just a lil bit"

hahhaha I mean it's obviously set up as Ginji putting up another test for Morita but what's Ginji to fucking win and to lose there

Pansy: his pride!!

Akira: I mean yeah, he's leaving Morita like for sure leaving him altogether hahah

imagine a guy rescuing your risky stock haste, then he gets stabbed bc of you and almost dies in your arms and your reaction is to leave him be forever? something doesn't click

and reaction of "hm yeah that's not enough of a proof, I'll leave him with another test" doesn't read that honest too

Pansy: or maybe he thought "FUCK he is actually willing to die for me? I will play hard to get in case he gets too intense..."  Morita we are breaking up. But then Mori is so cool Gin ends up giving in ❤️

Akira: remember that start of the poker arc when Morita's dressed in that clouds sweater and coat with a fur haha and he's just carrying that bag like he's homeless;; now imagine Ginji in that situation and that amount of money in his hands

not only would he whip out the metal money case without a second thought, I can clearly see him visiting the perfume store right after lol;;;

I mean... Ginji deserves his title as an underground fixer, he acts like it...

[bisexualraplines]

Wow I really thought that they were going to be a real thing after seeing those gifs. Is q/el officially done?

alright, I’m gonna use this ask as an excuse to talk about my thoughts post 4.12!

I’m honestly unsure, but it’d be a really bad move if they didn’t have a good outcome. it’d be exploitative, because they’ve leaned so heavily on it since season 3 from what I’ve seen in interviews and conversations, and for this show to ingratiate themselves into the conversation and actively support the relationship? they have to have known how this would come across. and this is why I’m still not believing that they are just going to drop it? to drop the storyline that boosted their views? 

I’ve noticed (from watching official itunes season recaps, especially) they sometimes even use the ship to market themselves. which, if it doesn’t end up happening, is really really shit. since 3.05, the first time they were together in a romantic sense, they were immediately praised and tons of articles popped up acknowledging their incredible queer rep. cause, they were great and unconventional and like nothing I’ve personally seen in fantasy. but its safer to separate them than have them actually work things out, right. maybe the buildup was for nothing and they had their chance. but then, the events of 4.05 proves that wrong. I’m going to stay optimistic, but I really hope I’m wrong, the showrunners aren’t assholes, and maybe this isn’t their intention. 

In the context of the show, and how I think its panning out: we need to remind ourselves Q has depression. he’s always seeking out ways to help, and to feel wanted, because of how disconnected he feels with himself and others. he’s talked about it on the show very often, and we already know that his coping mechanism is usually to seek out comfort from other people. the two people closest to him, julia and eliot, are not there to stabilize him during the stress and grief he’s enduring this season. without them, he’ll have to find someone else to confide in, which in this case is alice. alice is familiar, she’s comforting to him, they’ve been in a relationship in the past. I understand how much Q needs her right now - his mental state is very, very deteriorated and honestly I’m just waiting for him to have a breakdown. NOW. with eliot, we already know just how much he quietly loves Q, and how his greatest regret was not telling him, and for not accepting his proposal to try a relationship. eliot is a big, ole wimp. he knows that now, and we already saw that once he’s free, he’s determined to make it right with Q. however, its likely Q doesn’t know this and thinks eliot’s feelings are still the same. I think I’ve read in a post that Q and eliot’s last exchange before possession was eliot saying, altho half-jokingly, “go be life partners with someone else for a change”. then, in 4.05(?) he regains his body and takes that opportunity to talk to Q using their code “who else gets that kind of proof of concept”. its unclear whether Q takes that as a confession, but to the audience it feels like it. ROMAAAAANCE

so, in the end, I have suspicions of how it’ll pan out but we do need to remember those contextual things about Q’s coping, mental state, and current understanding of eliot’s feelings for him. alice is grounding him and probably the only thing preventing him from losing it, lbr. them entering a relationship is still reaaaaally fucking weird to me, because from what I can tell they haven’t really spoken about any kind of romance rekindling since season 2, so I don’t know if its a rebound in this case, or he’s just seeking comfort because he really, really needs it.

TO FINISH UP. I don’t want alice hurt if she is just a rebound, that’s an incredibly shit thing for the writers to do. Q is NOT the type to do that, especially since he’s always telling her she shouldn’t be hurt so many times. it’s just not what she deserves and she shouldn’t be reduced to that. they’ve had their time for their relationship, for their breakup, and for that chapter to close. they deserved that closure, and the show did it very well, so to have him get back together with her is just, ridiculous and infuriates me. 

so, I guess we’ll see in 4.13, but I’m worried, because they have 1 episode to make shit right.

AN ADDITIONAL THING BEFORE I WRAP UP: penny’s actor arjun tweeted reassurance to some fans that were upset about the episode. I’m taking this as a good sign, because he’s too good for this world and for any of us, but he also said he doesn’t want to say much to set up disappointment. either way, @ writers, make this fucking right.

FINI. I’m going to go get myself a croissant and have a little cry in a park

[evans-heaven]

Scene ; Joseph Quinn

Leave it to me to see one comment asking for a full fic based on one of my Moments drabbles and actually write that shit 😭 I've been working on this piece for weeks and I'm pretty happy with how I left it so here it is for your reading pleasure ;)

Before we start, a couple of things:

This is pre-Feelings (tho reader is very much in love here but doesn't realize it)

The death scene is from the POV of Stacey, your character, and is mostly my dialogue bc i tried watching the actual clip and got less than 10 seconds in before i started crying 🙃 so I'm not gonna torture myself like that y'all sorry lol

Reader is portrayed as having anxiety and overthinks a lot, kinda like in Feelings. I write her like this bc that's pretty much how I am in real life about my own thoughts, feelings, and basically everything else. Aaannnd that's basically it lmao

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x Fem!Actress!Reader

Warnings: Unedited content, strong language, ANGST, description of Eddie's death scene, mentions of blood, mild depictions of anxiety, some fluff, and touching, duh ;)

wc: 3.6k

I already linked the other two fics so read Touch here

Pt 2 here

Prior to this day, you had your assumptions that actors filming a death scene would be pretty tough. 

But, now that you were in a position where you yourself would be at the borderline center of one, ‘tough’ was kind of an understatement. 

‘Tough’ wasn’t nearly a suitable enough word to describe having to cradle your co-star who was covered in prosthetic wounds and fake blood as he sputtered out I love you’s and goodbye’s, and then ‘died’ in your arms. 

Maybe ‘tough’ would be the appropriate term here, if said co-star wasn’t your best fucking friend and the person you were undoubtably closest with on set. Him dying in your arms, even if it was just for the screen, was still an experience that would feel way too real-even if you tried to remind yourself that, at the end of the day, it wasn’t. No matter how true to life it would seem. No matter how damn realistic those wounds looked (why the fuck did Amy and her team have to be so talented?), and no matter how fucking incredible Joe Quinn was at pretending to die. 

The words ‘calm down’ echoed in your head like a broken record all day. They had blended into one, to the point where they were incoherent and didn’t seem to make sense. Thus, they did very little to offer comfort. 

The day had been frustrating, to put it lightly. But, at least you had Joe.

That morning, during your daily-or hourly-sanctioned bear hug, your heartbeat was so strong he practically heard it pulsing in his ears. That alone told him your anxiety would be working double time that day. It was a serious pain in the agss sometimes.

You and Joe had always been attached at the hip over the last year and some, always hanging off of each other in some way or another. And today, it was with good reason attached to it-not that (consensual) physical touch ever had to have a purpose other than wanting to be close. Having that gentle contact, even if it was just a hand on your shoulder-was more than enough to ground you and halt the overactive thoughts-even if for a couple of minutes.

Although he’d say he was only trying to comfort you, it was obvious your embraces and touches held mutual benefit. Just as he was able to sense your anxiety, you could sense his. The sweaty palms when your fingers laced together during breakfast and lunch weren’t from you, nor were the goosebumps you felt against your collarbones when he held you from behind after you got your makeup done for the scene. This showed you that, despite acting his ass off during rehearsals, it didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous.

But, in typical heartthrob-from-a-90s-novel-written-by-a-woman fashion, all his energy was put into making you feel better, comforted, and assured that everything would be okay. Even if he had no idea what the true driving force was behind your anxiousness.

You couldn’t have asked for a better on screen boyfriend. Stacey Miller-Rhodes was a damn lucky gal. Well, up until her boyfriend got chunks of his flesh ripped from his body by demobats. Meaning he died. Meaning Eddie was gone.

Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.

A sharp knock on your trailer door interrupted your useless mantra, as you jolted, just a little, before giving permission for whoever to enter.

In walked Matt and Ross, warm smiles on their faces. It didn’t do much to ease you, because you knew why they were here. 

“Hey, Y/N, you ready?” Ross asked. Matt stood by the door keeping it open, since it was time to go. 

You nodded. “Yep,” your voice was even, masking the heavy feeling in your throat. You were not ready.

“Figured we’d come get you ourselves, Joe’s busy with makeup on set, for, you know-”

“I know. Thanks,” you said quickly, cutting Matt off. “Let’s get going, then,” you said, standing up and walking past Matt, exiting your trailer. You heard the door shut softly and their footsteps following behind you.

You were being short with them, but that was because you really only wanted Joe at this moment. Unfortunately, he was currently being ‘deadified’ on set, which is where you were now headed. You two had a little cuddle session in your trailer, where he held you tight and layed kiss after kiss on your forehead, cooing that it would be okay and that you would both be fine. After that, he had to go to the makeup trailer to get his prosthetic wounds applied. The process had taken hours, and then he had to film the scene where Eddie actually got attacked by the bats. This meant it had been a while since you saw him last. So, his mamed and mangled appearance awaited you, when the last time you saw him, he was totally unharmed and at ease.

You entered the building, in which there were only a chosen few people. It was a closed set, just you, Joe, and the necessary crew members. The Duffers believed that because a death scene with a couple was so intimate, you and Joe were the only actors that should be on set. 

That, you were thankful for. You were your best self when it was just you and Joe, so you could be your best ‘acting self’, when it was just the two of you as well.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to the ‘Upside Down’, a set made to look like the particular spot in the alternate universe where everything would go down. It was tinted blue and almost sent a chill down your spine to look at, from how cold uninviting, and eerie the general vibe of the scenery was. And a little depressing, which was pretty fitting. The backdrop was a blue screen, which would be used to add the background of the setting, to make everything look as real as possible.

You spotted Joe in the middle of the set, the makeup team applying fake blood to his very real looking wounds. 

“C’mon, we wanna talk to you and Joe for a second before we start,” Matt told you, and as much as that made sense, you wished Joe was more than just a few feet away so you could prepare a little more for seeing him….like that, outside of the context of the scene. 

“Okay,” you said as you three began walking towards him just as makeup finished up their job. When you got to him, you felt yourself tense up at his appearance as you lingered back, just a little bit. He stood awkwardly with his arms slightly hovering away from his body, clearly not wanting to disrupt the fake damage. You could tell from the sight before you that with how much fake blood the team used, those demobats would really do a number on Eddie.

You hated those little CGI bastards.

“Hey,” Joe said, gaining your attention, though his tone was light. You met his eyes, narrowly avoiding the blood streaking the lower half of his face.

“Hi,” you said back, feeling just a little bit of air release from your lungs, not even remembering when you took a breath in. You wanted to make a sarcastic quip to lighten the mood, but words failed you. You didn’t really feel like being funny right now.

“So, you guys remember how the scene goes, Eddie just sacrificed himself and got attacked by the bats, and Stacey runs up to him afterward and sees his body laying there, barely alive, covered in blood and wounds,” Matt began.

You curled your lips in and nodded stiffly, feeling the slightest of shocks run through your body. Calm down.

“I know you two are gonna kill this scene,” Matt continued. “No one understands or could have brought to life Eddie and Stacey better than the two of you,” he said warmly, clamping hands down on both your shoulders. Yours was tense under his touch and Stacey’s clothing.

You had to admit, though, he was right. You had a lot of input into Stacey’s character, taking her from Eddie’s shy girlfriend who was just a tool to enhance how eccentric he was, to a girl with a backstory and reasons for her reserved nature. Knowing Stacey’s history would make the scene even more gut wrenching to film. A girl raised in a household with a domineering step-father who believed women should be seen and not heard, who made her life a living hell under the watchful eye of her mother who did nothing to stop it. Upon turning 18 she left him and his toxicity behind, but carried the burden of years of being forced to subdue herself. Eddie got her to open up to him, but she still carried herself quietly around others. The fear of judgment was damaging.

Because of how much you put into Stacey and the influence you had on her storyline, you knew none of your nervousness had to do with how you’d perform in the scene. You were confident in your abilities as an actress and knew you could carry this scene with the help of Joe perfectly. 

“Thanks, guys, that means a lot,” you said to them, gripping the moto jacket you wore, canonically taken by Stacey from Eddie’s closet. 

“Yeah, truly, we’ve come a long way from me thinking I would completely ruin the show,” Joe chuckled, the smile on his face juxtaposed by the blood caking it. It was actually kind of off putting.

“Alright, well, let’s get this show on the road!” Mat clapped his hands and walked with his brother offset.

More like let’s get this over with. You were about to walk off to get in your spot, when Joe grabbed your hand gently, stopping you. You turned to face him, brows raised expectantly.

“You good?” he asked.

Deciding to keep this short and sweet, you settled for a quick nod, and a soft ‘yeah’. Satisfied, he released your hand so you could go to your place, just as one of the Duffers yelled “Places!” 

When you got to your mark, you looked over to Joe one more time, who was already looking your way. You could feel the intensity of his stare from where you stood, those gorgeous brown eyes and the way they sparkled no matter the lighting or setting. He gave you a smile, and you returned one, unable to ever not do so. It managed to give you a new found confidence you lacked just seconds prior. He took his position on the ground, and then, it was time.

There was no turning back once it began. Unless you swiveled on your heels and ran in the opposite direction, which was tempting. 

Once it happened, everything you were worried about could become a possibility to follow suit.

You sucked in an unstable breath and closed your eyes, savoring a final moment of calm before those two little word were uttered-

“And….ACTION!”

You took off.

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

Stacey’s heart was ramming against her ribcage the moment she re-entered the upside down, but when she saw her boyfriend lying limp on the cold, wet ground, she swore her legs would give out as her heart seemed to cease in its entirety. 

He had gone back. He wanted to be a hero. He didn’t want to run anymore, but God, she wished he did.

“Eddie!” Stacey called out, voice unstable and legs threatening to give out from underneath her as she sprinted towards him. Somewhere in the corner of her mind that was swarming with fears of what would happen to him, she began to pray to whoever there was that could hear her and help him.

Please let him be okay. Please. Please. Please.

“Ed, babe, oh my God,” Stacey whispered, and fell to her knees before his broken down form. His torso was torn to shreds, his Hellfire shirt almost completely soaked with blood from his wounds. She took hold of him and pulled the upper half of his body into her lap, feeling the red substance begin to seep through her jeans.

The demo bats surrounded the two of them, incapacitated, laying limp on the floor of the upside down-taunting you. Blissfully unaware that they had probably just taken the love of Stacey's life away from her, brutally, with no remorse, as he tried so desperately to be the hero, not the coward he convinced himself he was.

“Ed, are you with me? Can you hear me?” Stacey asked him softly, not wanting to scare him. She brushed his hair from his face and tried to meet his eyes, his gaze unfocused and teary.

Eddie’s voice came out shaky and weak from his blood coated mouth, his cheeks smeared with it. “I did it,” he choked out. “I didn’t run anymore,”

There was no denying he felt some semblance of pride at what he did, and because of that, Stacey couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though the tension in the noise was palpable. “Yeah, yeah baby, you’re so brave,” she told him.

The proud smile he bore was distorted by a look of pain as he shifted slightly. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” he groaned, in clear discomfort.

One of her hands applied pressure to one of the many wounds that marred his torso as he shivered in her arms. “No, no babe, it’s fine, you're gonna be okay,” she stumbled out, trying to sound as confident in her words as possible, when everything about the situation told her that her words were not the truth. “We just….we just need to get to you to a hospital and everything’s gonna be okay, Ed, don’t worry,”

“No. I think this was it, baby,” he met his girlfriend’s gaze, his jaw trembling as more blood dribbled out the sides of his mouth as he took in barely there, labored breaths. “This was finally my year,”

Stacey choked out helpless cries, caressing his face, and shaking her head. This couldn’t be his year, this couldn’t be the way it ended. He was supposed to finally graduate and the two of them were supposed to get the hell out of Hawkins together, away from all the bullshit media propaganda and pearl clutching PTA moms. They were going to get out of there and be happy together. That was how it was supposed to fucking be, goddammit.

“No,” Stacey gritted.“This isn’t over yet, you’re gonna be okay, Ed,” she nodded stiffly, lips trembling as salty tears flowed into the seam. “We’re just gonna wait a little until the others get here, then we’re gonna carry you out of this hellhole and take you to a hospital, and the doctors there are going to fix you, baby, they’re going to make the bleeding go away, and stitch you up and give you some meds, and then you’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay,” she chanted weakly as her cheeks became soaked with tears. She wanted to speak it into existence, even as reality clawed and fought its way to the front of her mind.

“Baby,” he cooed. He placed a cold hand on hers, the one that still pressed against one of his wounds, gripping it weakly. Always the one who wanted to comfort her, even if he needed it way more in this situation. “I’ve fulfilled my duty as Eddie the Banished, I didn’t run, and I saved the town,” he told her. 

“That town doesn’t deserve your sacrifice, Eddie,” Stacey argued pathetically.

“I saved you,” he stressed, making it known that this act was with only one person at the forefront as motivation, the rest of the town behind her. “And you’re worth it, Stacey. You’re so. Fucking. Worth it,” he said to her, lacing their fingers together, pulling the back of her hand up to his lips, and pressing a bloodied kiss to the cold, dirty skin. 

“I love you so much,” he said as firmly as his shutting down body would let him.

It hurt her to not say those words back, but she knew why he said them, and she didn’t want to accept this as the end.

“Ed, don't you dare say goodbye,” she told him through her tears, trying to sound strong and sure, but it wasn’t possible. “This isn’t the end for you, this isn’t the end for us,” she said.

“Stacey, baby, I want you to listen to me,” Eddie began, the wobble in his voice impossible to ignore now as he tried to raise his head as much as he could, wanting her to truly take in his next words. “When you go back, I want you to go home and pack all of your shit, as much as you can carry, and I want you to get on the next bus out, because you’re gonna leave that shithole Hawkins. You’re gonna tell that place to kiss your ass and you’re gonna run like hell out of there without so much as a single glance back,”

Stacey shook her head, understanding where this was headed, not wanting to hear a word more. “Ed, no-”

“You’re gonna find some place for the both of us, somewhere where the people aren’t shallow minded assholes, where we can be whoever the fuck we want to be with each other, and I want you to live your life everyday as you would have if I was there,’

“Eddie, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. I don’t want you to cave back into yourself, baby. You’re the most beautiful, brilliant, incredible human being I’ve ever met and everyone deserves to know you and appreciate you as you are. Do you hear me?”His proclamation to her ended with that simple question, and he left no room for argument. 

She absorbed all his words, every letter, every syllable, struggling to accept that the life they wanted to have together, would have to continue on without him. The life she wanted with him would totally and completely absolve her from the one she had growing up. Could she do it? Could she move on?

Those answers remained to be determined, but the one thing she absolutely couldn’t do was argue with him anymore. She just didn’t have it in her to deny him his dying wish, or keep fighting what he had already accepted.

Closing her eyes, more droplets fell, mixing with his blood. She felt herself nodding before she could even consider another response in her mind. “Yeah,” she whispered in a watered down voice. “Yeah, baby, I hear you,” she opened her eyes and met his own once more. 

“Good,” he replied. “Good,” his voice was noticeably more floaty that time.

They fell silent. They just looked into one another’s eyes, exchanging so many words and feelings that would completely consume what little time they had left together. His hand was still laced with hers, pressed against his chest, where she could feel his weakening heart beat.

“I love you so much,” he repeated his words from earlier, breaking the hauntingly peaceful quiet. It was barely above a whisper practically mouthed, but she heard him, loud and clear. And as soon as those words came out, he looked ahead blankly, his eyes slowly beginning to lose the light in them Stacey loved so much.

“Eddie, no, please,” she gritted, tears dripping from her eyes uncontrollably. “Stay with me, baby, please,” she pleaded urgently, brushing more of his damp hair out of the way and patting his cheek lightly, trying to get him to remain alert….alive. She just wanted one more moment with him. Just one. 

But then, she felt it.

His body stilled.

His grip on her hand went limp.

His eyes lost any life left in them.

“Eddie,” she whimpered, hand remaining on his cheek. Her body shook uncontrollably as she let the tears fall freely onto him, her agony and pain taking over as she held his lifeless form close to hers. She repeated his name through her cries, trying to wake him, trying to make this nightmare end. She leaned down and pressed her forehead to his, wanting to feel him as close as possible, for what was the very last time.

“I love you, too,” Stacey whispered, her lips touching the skin between his eyebrows. If those words meant anything anymore, she wanted it to be at this moment. 

Because she truthfully didn’t know when-or if- she would ever say them again.

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

“CUT!”

It was like a switch went off in you, as reality made its presence known once more. 

The scene was done, the Duffers yelled cut, it was over.

However, the moment fully sank in when Joe rose up and took your hands in his, pulling you upright and bringing you into a warm embrace. You didn’t care about the fake blood that would get all over your front or the fact that his back was soggy and caked with damp dirt, you threw your arms around him and held on tightly, rivaling the hold he had on you.

“You did so incredible, babes, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered in your ear, his long fingers running up and down your sides lightly, almost tickling, but you reveled in it and his touch. You closed your eyes blissfully as you came down from your high, feeling the tears drying on your face, thankful makeup used waterproof eye makeup. 

“Yeah, you too,” you said back for his ears only, as the Duffers and the rest of the crew approached you both. You let each other go, though his arm remained on the small of your back, as everyone began delivering their praise. The voices became so jumbled you could barely register who said what. So, you just smiled and nodded and gave your gratitude along with Joe, whose hand rubbed soothing circles against your waist.

Now, to face reality.

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

Part 2 where Joe and reader discuss why she was so nervous coming Saturday 🥰 it was originally part of this fic, but it was getting way too damn long, so a split was needed lol. Stay tuned Joe girlies 😘