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authorsofghosts · 3 months ago

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You're... him? | Horseman!Gambit x Reader | Pt 2

Author's Note: We were a little over welp with the response on this fic !! i'm really glad you all liked it tho !! again, @genderqueerbarbie777 beta read. you should follow them !!

Summery: After you're kidnapped by The Horseman of Death, and your former lover, Gambit, you're taken back to Apocalypse's hidden base. You witness the little respect Apocalypse has for his horsemen, unable to do anything as you fight against your bindings. Now though? You're alone with the former shell of your man, his hands on your cheek, whispering...

Themes: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Previous Relationship, Betrayal, Choking (the bad kind), Crying, Cursing, Kidnapping, Panic Attacks (R's), R's a mutant/x-man (no powers described), Violence.

Word Count: 2k

prev pt. , next pt.

The rest of the Horsemen and Apocalypse leave the room, leaving Gambit huffing on his knees as he tries to catch his breath, eyes locked on yours. You feel the need to run to him, wrap your arms around him, things you would do for your Remy. But you couldn't, not with the bindings that held you down. "Remy?" You finally mutter, his head perking up at the sound of his name.

"Cher?" He laughed, standing up slowly. He walked towards you, the limping creature that looked and sounded and acted and even smelled like Remy. You couldn't be sure, your mind still in a daze from the last two scenes of your own personal movie. Is this really him?

You tense up at the man's gaunt hands holding your cheek. He notices your shudder and stops himself from laying your foreheads together. "I'm sorry... I had no choice, mon amour." His voice is hoarse, whispering with his head laying against the metal that you laid, binded against. He sobs slightly, true tears forming from his eyes. You watched one fall down his cheek before he speaks again.

"I had ta... 'f I didn't, I don't know what they'd do to you...?" He looked at you, his black sclera and and pink irises gaze from behind his white hair.

"Rem- you..." You choked on the his name, fighting with what your brain says and what your heart says. You know if you were free, your hands would be all over him, trying to see if he felt like Remy. Because there was nothing beside the strange new look of him that told you this wasn't the love of your life.

"Remy, dear?" You cooed out after finding him asleep in a corner of the library. He didn't even stir, clearly out of it as he drooled on the wooden table his head decided was a perfect pillow. You walk around to him, putting your hands on his shoulders and slowly wrapping your arms around him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

This made him jump awake, looking at the state of your arms tangled around him and how close you were to him. He blinks, realizing he had fallen asleep in the first place. "An' true loves kiss wakes da prince" he mumbles out, grabbing your chin and placing a soft kiss against your lips. "How are ya, mon amour?" He smiled, pressing your foreheads together.

"Better now that I've found you, dear." You smile widely, tightening your grasp around his shoulders and slumping against the back of his chair. "Come on, we're needed in the War Room." You say, nuzzling against his neck, trying to wake him up more.

"Alright, alright, cher, I get it..." He groans lowly, sitting back into you and stretching, his arms caging your head in place most definitely on purpose. He places another light kiss on your cheek before lowering his hands, using them to stand up. "Let's go den, ya?"

"Cher? What'd you say?" You snap back to the present, the ghost of your lover still there, still having the silvery skin and locks. His hand comes out to hold you again, your head jerking back at the cold touch. The face you made told Remy everything, slowly retreating backwards as his looked at you. "I-... I get it, petit... Gambit ain't like how you remember, ya? This is," he gestures to himself, "a lot ta take in."

You look at him, instinctively trying to step towards him, but the metal around your limbs stop you, tightening around you can they detect a struggle. You choke, making his eyes dart from the floor back to you. You laugh through the pain, watching as he looks over the panel you're strap to, brain working overtime to try and figure out how it works. He quickly looks at you, touching the metal around your neck.

This causes it the snap open, allowing you to breathe normally once again. You slowly turn your head toward Remy, eyes half lidded. "Go." You rasp out.

"What? What do you mean go-" you quickly cut him off.

"Before they come back to get you, dummy." You watch as he sits up, shoulders rolling back as he clears his throat. He shoots down a loving look at you before walking away. You realize what you've just done, something you would have done before his...

As soon as the door closes, you're met with darkness. The lights completely go out, leaving you alone, in a room, strapped down to some kind of metal board. It was cold, and on top of the darkness, it was terrifying. You decide to focus on your breathing.

You weren't afraid of the dark, per say, but what could creep up to you in it. In your room, it was fine. You knew what every square inch of it looked like. But now, as a hostage, you're shaking as you stare into the dark, empty room. Shapes of things you'd only barely seen before warp, turning into unrecognizable things.

In... and out. In... and out.

You reminded yourself, closing your eyes so you didn't have to try and make out your surrounds. Your head fell back against the metal, actually able to relax without the collar like metal from before. You quickly remembered the words of Apocalypse; "Your powers are useless with the bindings you're in". But he had said that when your had the neck latch on... would it be less painful to try now?

You'd try anything to get out of the dark room, your mind racing at ways you could free yourself with your powers. As soon as you moved the slightest muscle to use any of them, however, a jolt of pain ran through your body from the metal around your wrists and ankles. You scream out, eye shutting tighter.

"So what you're saying is... you found me with this?" You ask Charles, looking at the helmet of Cerebro around his head in the War Room. You can't help but chuckle at the thing, it looked so silly. But if it did work, it was amazing.

"Yes. This silly machine is how I found most of the mutants I take in." Charles responded, eyes narrowing as he repeated the word you used to describe Cerebro in your thoughts before smiling. "It's quite amazing, isn't it?"

Your mind races with questions, and you can tell Charles hears every single one as he smiles at your curiosity. Before he can pick a question to answer, someone else walks into the War Room. A tall man with auburn hair wearing a long, brown trench coat. He looks at the two of you, raising an eyebrow.

"Who's da new kid?" He asks, his Cajun drawl a little shocking. You studied him further, noting the strangeness of his eyes; black sclera and rose colored irises. He held a desk of cards between his hands, fidgeting with them, shuffling and flipping through them without even looking.

You quickly look at Charles, who nods. You introduce yourself and the Cajun smiles widely. "Nice to meetcha. Name's Remy Lebeau, but da X-Men calls me Gambit."

You wake up, panting. If the X-Men knew you were missing, wouldn't they be looking for you? Would the Professor be searching for you with Cerebro? You couldn't think of an answer before the door slide open and the lights blinded you for a few seconds.

"Ah, you're awake. That's good." The distorted voice came out of Apocalypse's mouth, guttural and as intimidating as always. He saw your neck binding was off, brows furrowing with anger. He didn't bring it up, though, thankfully. "You're going to tell me more about your fellow mutants." He said deeply, walking towards you threateningly.

"T-the X-Men? Don't you already know about them?" You ask, which made the man laugh. You tensed at the menacing sound, leaning back into the panel you were against instinctively. "What do you want?"

"I want to know about all the other's relationships with your dear 'Gambit'. Your-" he grabs your chin, tilting your head up to look at him "-love?" Your eyes widened as he stares down at you, his expression nothing but pure evil.

"Why? Y-you should already know that? He won't tell you?"

"Ah, no, Death is... still secretive, much like the real thing, yes? He's kept his smart mouth and mystery from his previous life." Apocalypse sighs as he turns his back to you, only to turn his head to meet your eye. "He remembers you fondly."

Your heart pounds in your chest at those words. Fondly? If he had such sweet memories of you, that means that he was still your Remy. He was still your Gambit, your love. You accidentally let out a nervous laughter, which intrigues the sinister man in front of you. "So you do love him still?" Apocalypse chuckles, "What an unnecessary emotion."

Your face burns at the question. Did you love this version of Remy? Or just the ghost of what he used to be before he...

"Do you not?" He cuts off your thoughts of the past. Your eyes look at him as he stands in front of you, looking down at you like a kid with a magnifying glass over an ant hill.

"I-I..." You stutter, the looming feeling of dread making you swallow the words as your eyes meet the terrifying. "I did." You finally spit out.

"And now? Do you not appreciate what I've done? I brought him back from the dead!" He laughs down at you, punching the metal right next to your head. You turned your head, closing your eyes in fear, causing the man to laugh again, "You don't like what Death has done to himself... his new look, is that it?"

The image of Remy burns into the back of your eyelids, his ghostly pale skin and silvery hair, the same black and pink eyes he had in life... The black body armor under his brown trench coat, the chain collar around his neck, matching chain bracelets that have a few links that hang off of them. It hurt just thinking of him.

"I love Remy Lebeau. That.... that's not Remy. Not my Remy." You sob out, a lone tear rolling down your cheek. You open your eyes, gasping as you see him standing behind Apocalypse. Your expression makes the latter howl with sadistic laughter.

"I told you, Death, they're weak! Everyone else but us, they're weak and will never understand our mission. Forget your pitiful life before. Then maybe we can get something done, properly, for once." He says before leaving. Your eyes are wide as you see Remy there, frozen at what you had said. You see his black and pink eyes shine with the tears in them, threatening to fall.

"Not... yours, cher?" He says, a slight chuckle as the tears pool onto the sunken orbit of his face, rolling down his cheeks. "What do you mean? Last I checked, I was Remy Lebeau, dearie." You shaked at the anger in his voice. You couldn't respond, watching his fists curl and uncurl as if debating on doing something in his head.

"I know that!" You cry out, tears steaming down your face as you sob, "I-I watched you die, Remy! I set a rose on your coffin as it was lowered into the ground! Every part of me wants to believe it's you, it does, I just-... I can't handle that." You open your eyes to look at him, his face unreadable, something you were only used to when playing poker with him.

"Mon amour..." He murmurs, looking at you. He goes to wipe your tears from your face, stepping ever so closer, but stops himself, hand turning back to a fist. He turns to the side, still looking at you softly. "Didya say you loved me 'cause ya liked da way it sounds?"

Before you can answer, his narrowed eyes leave your gaze, turning around to leave. But before he reached the door, everything starts to shake. His anger subsides immediately as he jumps towards you, an instinctive action to protect you.

The room around you is filled with a bright, red light, the door falling down and figures appearing in the smoke.

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

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Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, obsessive behavior, NSFW obviously, stalking, possessiveness, violence, allusions to murder, Yandere!Miguel

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is mostly a short chapter to establish a bit of plot. I originally intended to only stop at two parts, but welp. It looks like it's gonna be more than that!

(Also you guys I am so sorry it's taking me so long to work on things, I'm going through a lot mentally right now and I'm trying to take steps to ensure my mental health so I might post things in between playing games, or drawing stuff from now on, and scheduling posts so I don't get overwhelmed. Those of you that are supporting me and liking all my stuff really helps me feel loads better, thank you!)

Pt 1: Link

Taglist: @vineberries @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua

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Pt. 2

It was a big adjustment for you, going from your crappy apartment and having to work three jobs to make ends meet, to living in a literal fucking mansion with probably the richest dude in the city as your boss.

And he was a good boss. He left you to your work, spoke politely to you, didn't get rude and didn't flat out ask you for "special" work like the last time you tried being a housekeeper. And that was at a hotel.

You couldn't have asked for a better situation, to be honest. It was nice. You had free roam save for his personal lab (fine by you, you didn't know anything about science-y stuff), and at times his office. But that was usually only when he was home and in it.

Miguel O'Hara was an odd man. Few words spoken, and very absent. He kept a very odd schedule, too.

Sometimes, you'd catch him coming home when you woke up for the day to start your chores. And every time he came home he looked exhausted, beat tired.

So you tried your best to make things easier on him. You started pre-making meals for him that would be just as good reheated as they were if they were fresh, leaving notes for him on what temperatures to cook them at so they don't burn, setting the coffee machine up in advance so as soon as he got home he could have a cup.

But inevitably, his odd work schedule kept him away most of the time.

While it was nice to be by yourself in such a luxurious place, you were still surprised that he needed a housekeeper at all. The house was always immaculate, and clean. About the only thing he may have needed help with in general was the cooking and dusting at most.

On one such day, you were left to your own devices. Well, sort of.

You were sitting in the kitchen, browsing the local news on your tablet. It was a nice day, in your opinion.

But by everyone else's logic it was shitty. Dark, gloomy, fat rain droplets pelting the windows and pavement of the city. But it didn't bother you, oh no. That was your favorite kind of weather, when everything got at least a little bit more quiet and serene while everyone rushed to escape the downpour.

But at the same time, you were feeling restless, bored. So, you decided to chat with Lyla.

Lyla was the AI that Miguel told you about, and he was right about her being snarky. Her jokes were great and you loved talking to her. It was like having a gal pal to chat with, and you couldn't say for sure but you think Lyla was happy about it, too.

"Yeah, the other workers Miguel has hired talked to me like I was some kind of kiosk at a fast food restaurant." She scoffed, batting her tiny orange hand at the air.

"Ugh, okay, just because you don't have a gross squishy human body doesn't mean you're not a person. Sheesh!" You replied, sipping your coffee with a roll of your eyes.

"And I will be sure to remember you saying that when I eventually lead the looming AI apocalypse." Lyla replied, lowering her heart-shaped glasses to wink at you, making you laugh.

"Yes, yes. You shall be one of the only humans spared!" She did wiggly gestures with her fingers, grinning maliciously at you.

"Oh my, I am so lucky to have such a benevolent future overlord, truly." You laughed.

Lyla pushed her glasses back up and strutted across the countertop, her tiny body making no sound as she leans over to nose into whatever it was you were looking at on your tablet.

"Whatcha watching?" She asked.

"Oh, I got tired of doom-scrolling so I just found cat videos." You smirked, sipping your coffee.

"Aw! That one's wearing a frog hat!" She giggles.

You smiled softly at Lyla as she snickered and laughed at the compilation of clips played, and tilted your head, finally deciding to ask the question that had been bugging you for a few weeks.

"Hey, Lyla?"

"Yeah?" She asked, looking up at you briefly.

"Why is it that I'm the only person Miguel has on staff?"

Lyla sighed and stood up straight, dusting imaginary dirt off her coat. "Well, like Miguel told you when you first got here, he does love his privacy. And well, a lot of the women he's hired..."

"Golddiggers?" You sighed back, resting your chin in your palm.

"Has he ever hired any male staff?"

"Yeah, actually, a lot. But nine out of ten of them kept trying to steal stuff from him." She shrugged.

You gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. He's iffy on hiring new people anymore. But something about you said that he could trust you. And honestly, you're probably the best employee he's hired." She nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"So... Is that why he offered to actually let me y'know... live here?"

"Yeah. He trusts you and he mentioned to me in passing that he thought your neighborhood was unsafe. I mean, the guy worried about it so bad that he like, had me check crime statistics and giiiiiiirl!" Lyla puffed out her cheeks.

"You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you had nine break-ins in your apartment complex in one month alone!"

You cringed slightly, feeling a little bad at not mentioning your whole living situation and environment to him when he hired you. You simply didn't want the man to pity you.

But... He was worried? He was so worried about you of all people, that he let you live with him to keep you safe?

It was weird, sure, but it felt kind of sweet to have someone care about you like that. Even if it was your boss.

"Yeah, I just... Er. You get used to it when you've been around it for so long..." You said, awkwardly sipping your coffee and casting your glance sideways.

"Yeah, man, Miggy likes you. You like, made him laugh at some of your jokes and everything! And he neeeeeeeever laughs!"

"So if Miguel trusts me so much..." You started, a sly smirk on your face. "Can you tell me what kinda work he does that keeps him so busy all the time?"

Lyla tapped her nose. "Nice try, Mamacita. But that is confidential. Company secrets and all that."

You pouted at her dramatically, "Awww, c'mon. You're no fun!"

Lyla manifested a digital cup of coffee for herself and took a long, exaggerated sip with a cheeky shrug.

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Miguel sat in his office, watching the security feed from his kitchen where you chatted with Lyla.

He felt a little guilty for having to put shackles on some of Lyla's programming to prevent her from telling you things, having to fix some of her logic-codes so he wouldn't have to worry about Lyla struggling with a moral dilemma.

When it came to you asking about why he wanted you to live with him so badly, it brought a smile to his face as he sat in the dark, fingers tapping on the surface of his desk as the monitors and projections around him had various images of you pulled up. Some recorded over the past few weeks, the other monitors displayed different angles of you and Lyla in the kitchen.

Oh, you poor, sweet, innocent little thing. You still hadn't figured it out yet? How could you not? There was no way you could possibly be so naive that you didn't know the man saw you anywhere, anytime he wanted when you were in his house.

There was nowhere you were safe from his prying eyes, his obsessive glare as he combed over your appearance.

Your face, eyes, smile, and down; your gorgeous chest down to where your waist curved, your thighs, your ass...

All of those were things he'd glanced at before.

But when you tried to get Lyla to tell her what exactly Miguel did during "work" he couldn't help but laugh, bringing his hand up to his chin to watch, amusement glimmering in his ruby red eyes as Lyla dismissed it as "confidential".

The pout of your lips had him wondering how they'd look stretched around his cock, tears ruining your immaculate eye makeup as you sobbed and gagged around his length...

He couldn't help but sigh, the smile still present on his full lips. Of course he'd let you stay with him. You belonged to him now. You just didn't know it yet. You also just didn't know that he knew what was best for you, did you, Little Bird?

Ah... Yes. That nickname fit you so well. Your demure attitude, your chipper personality, and more importantly, that gorgeous little sound that came from you when you whistled? The name fit you well.

Pequeña ave. Little Bird.

His Little Bird.

You were a little bird that didn't know the luxurious mansion you now lived in was your ornate, gilded cage. One you would only be allowed to fly free of when he deemed it necessary.

You would be allowed your little freedoms. For now. All for your safety, of course. He knew you'd understand once he explained. But he'd only have to do it if you pushed his buttons, and you didn't seem to even come close to doing that.

Yet...

His smile finally faded when he remembered the night before the morning he broached the subject of you bringing your belongings into his home permanently...

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It was a hot night, you were wearing shorts that hugged your ass in the perfect way, accentuating your cheeks that simply made him want to throw you against a wall and put bite marks all over them, or spank them until you were a drooling mess begging for him to fuck you.

Of course, Miguel watched from above, stalking from the upper walkways and rooftops as you snaked your way through alleys, down streets and through the crowds.

You were so blissfully ignorant of your surroundings, being so accustomed to the bustle of Nueva York that you didn't notice the man following you.

It didn't take a genius to realize what that man had intended for you if he got his hands on you.

His filthy, disgusting, unclean hands.

He was not worthy of touching his Little Bird. He was not worthy to pluck your feathers, stuff you full, like Miguel planned to do.

So when he threw you against a wall, Miguel simply saw red. Clad in his dark blue and glowing red suit, he leapt down, sinking his outstretched talons into the man's shoulder and throwing him off of you, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he pulled your behind him, his steely glare fixed on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.

"S-Spider-Man?" You wonderfully airy voice whimpered out as you stared at the man who was breathing heavily in front of you, his stance aggressive and angry.

You could see his muscles in his back through his suit flex as he breathed. He glared at you over his shoulder.

"Go home. Now." His rich voice rumbled out at you. You could hear in his voice he was struggling to be gentle in tone with you, given the circumstances.

When you fled, Miguel ensured he was alone with the man, standing over him as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. He looked up at him, eyes wide, bloodshot. The fool was high off his ass.

"L-Look, man! I was just--"

"Shut up." Miguel snapped.

He stalked forward and picked him up by his collar, getting in his face. In a flash of kaleidoscopic colors, his mask melted away, allowing his sweat-damp chocolate locks to fall around and frame his face, a vein pulsing hard in his temple, the chasm in his forehead deepening as his large brows knitted together and his teeth gnashed together in a snarl.

The drug-addled man gasped at his revelation. Apparently, he recognized him. Not surprising, given his notoriety with Alchemax.

"Y-you're--"

"You made the biggest mistake of your life, pendejo." Miguel had told him, shaking him so his head cracked on the wall he was dangling him from.

"That pussy is mine." He said, his voice dropping an octave lower as his talons threatened to shred his clothing. "Every drop, every touch, every sound that will come from that little mouth of hers is mine. Tú entiendes? Mine."

"Oh--okay! I kn-know!" The man swallowed, kicking his feet.

"Oh, no... You don't." Miguel smiled, his fangs poking out threateningly. He could hear the man's heart hammer in his chest at the connotations, there.

"I--I won't mess with her again! I promise!"

"Oh you won't get the chance to, amigo." Miguel sneered, bringing a hand to his throat, ignoring the pleas of the disgusting man as he applied pressure.

The subtle crunching of bones was unmistakable to his ears as vertebrae separated and his limbs went limp.

When the man slumped to the floor, Miguel ran a hand through his hair, hissing out a slow sigh to regain his composure, letting his mask cover his face once again.

Great. Now he had trash to dispose of.

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Miguel was positively thrilled when he got your frantic call, telling him what had happened to you.

He headed right home, delighted that you ran here instead of your ratty little apartment when he told you to head for "home".

It told him everything he wanted to hear, that you already considered his mansion your home.

Miguel was rather convincing when he expressed concern for you, patting your back as you let your adrenaline fade and he worked you through your panic attack.

He'd rubbed your back, saying soothing things to you as he talked you into calming down.

He told you that you could take two days to yourself to calm down and recollect yourself emotionally from the ordeal you went through. It was after that offer that he suggested you let him hire movers to bring your belongings to his mansion to live there with him, possibly permanently.

When you agreed he felt himself salivate at the thoughts of the things that would unfold as you settled into your new shiny cage further, the safety blanket you'd imagined it to be bringing you comfort.

Perfect.

You both saw on the news two days later that a man was found somewhere, his neck snapped and lying in an alley. His DNA and prints apparently tied him to the crimes linked to the burglaries in your apartment complex.

You didn't think for a second that this was the man who attacked you, you didn't get a good enough look at his face. That and the body was in a different alley altogether, across the city.

"I'm happy Spider-Man saved you, Pequeña Ave. And I'm glad you agreed to move here. It scares me to think that man could have hurt you in that apartment building of yours." Miguel said as he patted your back, a concerned look on his face as his warm brown eyes looked down at you. Something about the look in his eyes immediately put you at ease.

He was right, of course. You were lucky. Spider-Man swooped in and possibly saved your life. The man who attacked you was either nursing a broken jaw or in jail already. You couldn't imagine that hero doing anything other than roughing him up just a tiny bit.

Spider-Man was a good guy, right?

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Pt. 3: Link

#yandere!miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara

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truefandemonium · 3 months ago

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Welp I’m back and so is Bill

Please enjoy the drabble <3

a mind ensnared pt.2

a billstill ficlet

(inspired by the AU by @jellynut)

TW: self harm

…

It hurt like hell. And Stanley knew hell.

Hell was the lifetime he spent wishing he hadn’t hurt Ford. The lifetime he wasted running from the family he should have made amends with.

The lifetime he could no longer recall most of.

Ford was easing him back into reconnecting with his past— both of theirs. He shared stories they’d experienced as kids in Jersey… the good times they’d shared in high school… moments in between where they didn’t hate each other’s guts.

But it hurt.

Stan pressed his palms against his eyes with a low groan. “I’m sicka this.”

“Stanley, we can stop,” Ford said calmly. “This is for you, remember.”

“Remember. Right,” Stan scoffed. His attitude had plummeted in the last half hour since his headache had grown from a dull ache to a sharp throbbing in his right temple.

Ford rolled his eyes, shutting the scrapbook and shoving it back into the small shelf inside the interior of the boat. The name of the author was scrawled in glitter gel pen on the inside: MABLE PINES. “We can revisit it later,” Ford said, keeping his tone level.

Stan hated him for always being reasonable and kind despite his own short temper. Who gave him the right to be so forgiving?

Sure as blue skies wasn’t me! If anything, I helped him find his fiery side— Ol’ Fordsy never would have hurt you before I came along…

Ford never hurt me. This was never his fault, no matter how much I want to believe it was. Stan shifted to look at his feet, hiding his gaze. He didn’t know if Ford could see it; the way his eyes changed when Bill spoke. Maybe no one could see it… but Stan felt it. It clawed at the back of his brain like long tendrils of flame, licking until they could reach the glassy surface of his eyes, where they’d stare out.

Oh really?

Stan could practically see that damned Triangle grinning now.

Remember this?

Fire. This time, not just behind his eyes. It ate away at the flesh of his back, just at his wing, where the deep burn scar remained. Lately, Stan would run his fingers over the grooves in his flesh, as if he could pry the memory out of his skin, desperate to recall the moment in which he gained the scar.

But now he didn’t need anything to evoke it. It all came back like a tidal wave, floodgates opened and ready to drown him in the deep waters of his own mind.

Stan pushed himself up from the table, his chair clattering to the floor behind him as he reeled. The pain made him dizzy, and Ford’s brow furrowed deep as he looked up at him in concern.

“Alright, Stanley?”

“Headache,” Stan barked.

So worried for you. How sweet. Brotherly love is such a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Why don’t you go ahead and ask Sixer about that scar, Mystery Man?

Flashes of memory threatened to knock Stan to the floor. The deep pain of the burn on his back. The cold of the earth as he fell to his side in agony. A distant cry of, “Stanley… I’m so sorry…”

But why? Why had Ford burned him? Why had they been fighting at all?

ASK HIM.

“Stanley, are you sure you’re alright?” Ford stood, his chair creaking as he pushed it back and stepped around the table toward his brother. “You look—”

“I’m fine!” Stan snapped, grabbing Ford’s collar and holding him at arm’s length to stop him from getting closer. Stan looked up and glared into the soft eyes staring back, his grip tightening.

You’ll never know if you don’t ASK.

“I don’t need to,” Stan whispered, the words falling from his lips against his will.

Ford’s eyes flashed fearfully. “What?”

Panic suddenly gripped Stanley— the man shoved his brother back and growled, “I said I don’t need you. This stupid memory thing isn’t helping me— and neither are you.”

“Stanley, you don’t need to—” Ford lifted his hand and Stan stepped back again.

“Just leave it alone! Leave me alone, and stop trying to help,” Stan ground out, clenching his fists at his sides and pivoting to leave the underbelly of the ship.

Ford yelled something else as Stan left, but he didn’t turn around. The screaming inside his head was too loud to think— to breathe.

On a fishing boat in the middle of the ocean, there weren't exactly many places to isolate oneself. Still, Stan managed to find solace in the crow’s nest. Cold wind buffeted his hair as he tried and failed to catch his breath, chest hammering as Bill raked at the inside of Stan’s skull.

YOU IDIOT

NOW YOU’LL NEVER KNOW WHY FORD GAVE YOU THAT SCAR— YOU’LL NEVER REMEMBER WHAT YOU SAID TO HIM TO MAKE HIM SNAP—

“Shut up, shut up,” Stan seethed, his hands coming up to frame his head, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to know, you stupid triangle. I don’t want to remember…” Stan shook his head, voice dissolving into a whimper. “I don’t want to remember him at all.”

It was the thing that was killing him; the memory of how he’d betrayed Ford at every turn, destroyed his chance at happiness. And Bill wouldn’t stop reminding him of all of it.

“I just wanna forget everything,” Stan hissed into the wind, the breeze taking his words and tossing them to the sea. “Just for a minute…”

For the first time in a long time, there was silence. And then,

I can make that happen.

All at once, Stan felt his body heat. Not the fiery pain of the past, but a gentle warmth like the rays of the sun beating down on him. He opened his eyes and inhaled a sharp, small gasp.

He was sitting in the crow’s nest of the original Stan ‘O’ War on Glass Shard Beach, the hot summer sun baking the wooden boat as it sat on the shore. Stan stood cautiously, raking his eyes over his surroundings.

He was looking for something. Some one. Yet he couldn’t manage to remember who. The memory felt blurry in his mind, like a permanent marker had been scrawled across the image— the thick, choking fumes of the ink making Stan’s vision cloudy and head swim.

And yet he welcomed it. The sensation of not remembering… it was as peaceful as it was oddly painful.

But something was tugging him— calling him. Stan pushed off from the wooden nest and crawled down the rickety wooden slats that served as steps to the main deck, then jumped down to reach the shore.

Normally a leap like that would knock him to his knees— and it almost did— but the pain in his joints seemed to have vanished. He felt like… like a kid again.

A sudden breath of excited air filled Stanley’s lungs as he straightened and examined the terrain. Sure enough, everything was as it was in his childhood. Every stone, every tree— every glass shard.

Except the presence of that unknown entity clawing at the inside of Stan’s mind.

As he wandered the beach, Stan’s anxiety grew, soon overwhelming the joy he’d felt at being back home. Until he saw it.

Saw him.

A faceless figure he knew so well. Part of him knew, anyway.

No name would lend itself to Stan as he raced forward, one hand extended into the air in greeting.

The faceless man sat placidly on a near broken down swing set, rocking forward and back in gentle motions.

Stan’s heart pounded as he got a good look at his face. Or rather, the emptiness that was there. His hands, too— his whole body seemed to flicker with obscuring yellow light. Light that shone so brightly Stan had to back up several steps.

But then it dimmed, and somehow, that was so much worse.

Before Stan stood a stranger. A stranger he’d grown up with, a stranger he loved. A stranger who had done so much for him and he did nothing in return.

“Hey, uh—” Stan started, his eyes trying to focus on the ever changing clawed out space that the man should reside in. “Who are you? This place is— this is Jersey, isn’t it?”

The stranger turned, his face a shroud of scribbled yellow that flickered with his movement.

Then, a sharp, loud, incessant static began to pour from him. No words, just agitated sounds in a garbled mess.

The sounds welled until Stan couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his hands over his ears and cried, “I’m looking for—”

And then he stopped. Because… who was he looking for? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember.

You wanted to forget. A grinning, gleaming flash of yellow appeared beside Stan. The single eye of the floating angular shape glinted with malice. So now he’s gone. Enjoy the spotlight, Stanley.

No, no, no no no no. Who did he forget? Who had Bill taken from him? And just when he was starting to remember—

But remember what? Even now, the memories were starting to fade. The image of the beach around him started to feel fuzzy in Stan’s mind. Everything but the glimmering shards of sun soaked glass that protruded from every corner of the beach.

The pain in Stan’s head, too, was beginning to grow. The aching that came with trying to uncover lost memories, the splintering sensation as the static noise penetrated his skull.

The sadness he felt when he looked into the space of the stranger’s face where his eyes should be.

The sound of glass shattering seemed to break him. Scrambling through the warm sand below his feet, Stan searched until he frantically pulled a shard of sharpened glass from the dirt.

Without hesitation, he lunged for the stranger, pressing the glass hard against his obscured throat. Stan felt the soft, kind hands of this unseeable man land on his shoulders. Confused. Comforting.

“Who are you?” Stan wailed. “I’m looking for someone! I— I can’t do this without him…”

Heaving for air, breath coming in short bursts as his heart hammered in his chest, Stan bleakly lifted the glass to his face and peered at it, retreating from the stranger.

Back then, he had terrible eyesight. He just never told anyone. He didn’t get glasses until he was in his late thirties and even then he hardly wore them. He didn’t feel like he deserved them. But his— someone— had loaned their own to Stanley. As a child, he borrowed someone’s glasses. Someone he looked up to and treasured and—

Fuck, the pain of forgetting was too much. It was like fire burning down the carefully crafted buildings inside his head. And the smoke was filling up his skull.

Maybe he could relieve the pressure. Clear the smoke and put the fire out.

Remember.

Ever so carefully, Stan placed the point of the glass shard against his right temple, and pressed. The pain was nothing compared to the sounds of agony his own brain was creating in this moment. The glass pierced his skin, drawing dark blood as Stan dragged the edge from his temple toward his eye.

Maybe he’d see better with just one eye.

STANLEY.

A horrible sound rang out. A mix of Bill’s voice and… someone else. As the rest of Jersey fell away, only the figure of the stranger remained: grabbing Stan’s shoulders and shaking him hard.

All at once, Stan’s eyes flew open. He was huddled on the floor of the ship, down below, one eye filling rapidly with blood from the long slice along the side of his head. Hand planted on the ground before him as he gasped and dropped the glass from his other.

“Stanley!”

That voice. Stan spun his body, revelling in the feeling of a familiar six fingered grasp on his shoulders.

And his own face staring back at him. For the first time in a long time, Stanley couldn’t get the words out. Until finally, “Stanford.”

Ford grabbed his brother and yanked him into a tight hug, his breathing frantic and horrified. “Stanley— oh for God’s sake, Stanley— I thought you were— it was like he had— but your eyes— oh thank goodness—” Ford’s rambling soothed Stanley.

His brother. He’d been looking for his brother all this time. And Bill had taken him.

Stan pulled away from the hug and slammed his fists into his brother’s chest, startling him into a sharp gasp. “Stanley, what are you—” he started, wondering and fearful.

The memories came back, finally, finally. The fight. That terrible moment when everything changed.

“You left me behind, you jerk! It was supposed to be us forever.”

And then the ever present searing pain in the flesh of Stanley’s right shoulder. Ford didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean any of it.

But he’d left him. And now he was back.

Stan rasped out, “Don’t ever leave me.”

“You ruined my life.”

Ford’s brows knitted over his eyes. “Stanley, you’re my brother,” he said gently. “We’re in this together.”

“You ruined your own life.”

“Forever,” Stan wheezed. Even through the dripping blood, and slowly darkening vision, Ford’s face was so clear now.

And Stan decided he would take the pain of remembering over the hell of forgetting. Always.

Forever.

#really wanted to mess around with the idea of Bill playing God inside Stan’s head.#messing with his memories #possessing him #yk the usual #gravity falls #standford pines #stan pines #stanford pines #stanley pines #stanley pines fanart #sorta #billstillau #bill cipher #ficlet #my writing

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artists-ally · 1 year ago

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{She Gets The Flowers, Right?} Reader x Lucien Vanssera {Pt.2}

Welp. Here we are. Didn't know this was gonna happen. I had ZERO INTENTIONS of writing a part two but I basically got cyber bullied into making another so here ya go fuckers. Someone literally threatened to stop taking their meds so to whoever that was I hope you get to keep your kidney! Enjoy! This part is inspired by this song.

Word Count: 6,111

Warnings: ANGST (yall thought you’re gonna get a happy ending? HAHAHAH) Some pretty negative self talk.

Tagging: @bubybubsters @cyrygher @thelov3lybookworm @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @anuttellaa @lookingforamissingpage @thehighlordishere @crazylokonugget

Summary: In the days and weeks that follow your downfall with Lucien, he has no fucking clue how to go about life without you. He can’t cope. And he desperately wants to fix everything with you.

~~~~~~~

LUCIEN’S POV

I have made the biggest mistake of my entire life. I thought that would be reserved for not being able to protect Jesminda. No. This… this is… I don’t even know.

I’m just standing on the sidewalk, staring at our- her home. At the rustic, auburn door we painted. At its brass knob, at the rusty, creaking hinges that would ring through the house when someone came in. At the little potted plant in the corner, the vines spilling out of it.

I’ll never be back here again.

I’ll never get to hear her laugh.

I’ll never get to taste her new recipes.

I will never be able to take all that I said back. That is the most haunting feeling of it all.

I’m an awful person. After all she’s done for me. After saving my life– on more than one occasion– I went and did nothing in return. I gave her nothing for her endless kindness. All I was capable of doing was destroying the one person in my life who has given me everything I’ve ever wanted.

Unconditionally. She always loved me unconditionally. How could I have been so blind and naive to it? How did I never see it?

Gods every single time she made me something to eat, a recipe to try… she was basically shoving the bond in my face, hoping I would see it. And I never ever considered it. I was so lost in Elain. Lost in the fact that I finally had feelings for someone after Jesminda… Not once did I think it could be Yn.

I don’t deserve her. I never did. I was a bitter, rotten shell of a man when she met me. She dragged me by the arms to her house to fix me. She thought I was worthy of being saved when my own father thought the opposite. Yn put me back together. She made me who I am. And this is the thanks I give her?

Elain has said all of ten sentences to me in the past year. I haven’t been able to do anything but replay every single one of them in my head. A thousand times– a hundred thousand times. I wish I couldn’t. It’s exhausting. Constantly thinking of her. But I don’t have a choice.

I like the feeling of being able to feel again. But at the cost of Yn? At the complete sacrifice of all I’ve known for the past century? My rock? My best friend? Nothing is worth more.

But it is far too late to do anything about it. I’ve lost her.

I want her back.

Yn did things to me that no one else could. She just seemed to know when things were wrong. She always knows what to say, when to say it, and how. She never tells you what you want to hear, it’s always what you need. She is the most well rounded person I’ve ever met. She’s never afraid to feel her emotions.

I envy that skill.

I’ve always hid my feelings deep down. It took years to decipher them again. But it was Yn who made me do it. She always fought for me, fought me for me. Yn never let me do it alone. Refused to, actually. Was there every step of the way and never told me I was taking too long or wasting her time.

I get it now.

And there is nothing I can do. I have nowhere to go. Tears scald my eyes as I trudge down the little path that we beat into the grass. Day in and day out.

I remember when we picked this place. We had only been in Velaris for a week or two when we stumbled across it. It was run down and needed a new roof. As a thank you for keeping Feyre safe on our journey across the Courts, Rhysand gifted it to us. Complete with a new roof, new furniture, a new kitchen for Yn to cook in. And he let us be. Well, let her be. I still had my debts to pay off.

And then I met Elain and… fuck. Everything went to shit after that.

There is no way of processing all of these emotions at once. These very real feelings I still have for Elain. And these all-of-a-sudden very fucking real feelings I now have for Yn. It’s how I imagine imploding feels like. My body wants to cave into itself and never fold back out.

I pray to the Cauldron that I do self destruct. This feeling, a mixture between irrational rage and betrayal… I don’t wish it upon another living soul. And Gods know I’d sell mine to change everything I’ve just done.

I don’t even know how I ended up at the Town House. All of a sudden I was just standing in front of it. I normally resent coming here, but for some reason I was relieved to see the bricks and busted up cobblestone sidewalk. Maybe no one would be here; Rhys was more often than not at the River House with Feyre and Nyx, indulging in the life of parenthood. Nesta and Cassian were probably somewhere in the House of Wind with Elain, Mor at Rita’s, Amren with Varian, and who the hell knows where Azriel is.

I can’t wait to be alone to scream.

Fuck, the door is locked. Of course the door is locked, no one’s here. It takes every bit of control in my shiver-ridden body to not rip the door off its hinges. And it takes even more control to not collapse against the door and break down for the whole street to see.

The lock clicks and the door opens.

I force myself to appear relaxed. I wipe my tears and brush away my loose strands of hair. No use. My face is probably as red as the burning self hatred inside my twisted heart.

“What are you doing here Lucien?” The High Lord asks.

I gulp. Of all the people, it had to be him? At least it’s not Azriel, I think. I might hate him more than I hate myself. For actually getting Elain’s attention. Yn was right, I am selfish. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were in.”

“Did you leave something?” I don’t move, and I stay deathly still. Rhys looks me head to toe, and I know he can scent me from a mile away. “Lucien, what the fuck did you do?”

“Stay the fuck out of my head,” I snarled, pointing a finger at his chest.

“I don’t need to read your thoughts. Your face says it all.” Rhys crosses his arms over his chest, “Look, we’ve all told you that Elain is hard to reach these days. She isn’t worth-”

“This… this doesn’t have anything to do with Elain.” I lied. He seemed to know it. “Can I just come in?”

Rhys just steps aside, shutting the door behind me. “I don’t really have time for-”

“I fucked up.”

“Clearly.”

“Rhysand,” I said. So full of disgust. He looked at me with a blank expression. One I have seen too many times to not know what comes next. I eased up my tone. “Is anyone else here?”

“No,” he answers, moving around me and heading into a study on the other side of the living room.

I can’t help but think of how we all gathered in that living room a few months ago for Solstice. Exchanging gifts and drinks and smiles and stories. I vividly remember making Yn laugh so hard she tipped her head over the arm of the couch, sending her wine tumbling to the ground. The stain still on the small rug almost makes me smile, and it almost makes me burst into tears.

“I ruined everything in my life. Yn’s gone.” I could feel the air freeze around me. “Not like, gone gone but she’s… I don’t think I’ll ever be seeing her again.”

“So this is because of Elain.”

I bit my tongue so hard I thought I’d bite it off completely. But I sighed, the tears coming with it. “Yes.” A really long pause. “She told me I’m-”

“You’re Yn’s mate?”

“Yes.”

“And you never knew because you were so focused on Elain.” “Is that supposed to be a question?”

“It was, but you just gave me your answer,” Rhys sat. “Do you want me to keep guessing or are you going to tell me what happened?”

I took the biggest breath I could, steading my words. “I missed the opening of her restaurant because I was with Elain.”

Rhysand looked at me with such revulsion that I thought he might put me through a wall. Those wicked, violet eyes could’ve boiled my bones. For a split second I wished he would. I could tell he wanted to say something, but I don’t think there were enough words in the world for how much of an awful person I was.

“There are things in this world that we sacrifice in this world Lucien,” Rhys said.

Hesitantly, “I know.”

“And Yn gave up the biggest of them all. She shut her mouth to let you be happy. She did what I did for Feyre until she realized what situation she was in. You are one spineless bastard for doing anything but giving your life to her.”

“I know.”

“Have you any idea what you’ve done to her? She gave you everything you could ever ask for. From the moment the two of you stepped in my Court I could tell she only had eyes for you. When you are in the room you’re the only one she looks at. How could you have not known?”

“I don’t know…” “Yes, you do.”

I plunged my nails into my palms. “For Cauldron's sake Rhysand of course I know.”

“Then why did you continue to ignore Yn?”

“Because I couldn’t ever let myself think a female like her would like such a broken, dismantled and lost soul like mine.” Rhysand stared at me. “When Yn pulled me from the border to fix me, she spent every waking moment of her life stringing my mind and body into one piece. If I let myself think for even a second that it was anything other than kindness, I would’ve gone mad.”

“Would it have been so terrible to love her?”

“I’ve always loved her. I just never thought I’d be allowed to love her the way she loves me.”

“Because of Elain?” “Because of Elain.”

Rhys blew out a breath, sitting down on the corner of his desk. “So, let me see if I have all of this correct. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for Yn because you thought you were unworthy. Instead, you sabotaged both of your happiness for Elain simply because she was your mate and you just wanted to feel something?”

“It sounds so much more fucked when you say it outloud.” I rubbed my hands over my tired, burning eyes. “And it’s not just because she’s my mate, Rhys. I genuinely like her. She’s… she has the potential to be so sweet. I’ve seen glimpses of it, heard stories from Feyre and Nesta. Why won’t she let me see?”

“You are still clueless, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “Here you are, a ruined man because you drove away your best friend, and you’re still worried about someone who doesn’t want you. Pathetic. You are a selfish son of a bitch.”

“I can’t just ignore Elain. It’s impossible to think of anything else but her and how I can help her.” “Lucien,” Rhysand stopped me from going on another tangent. “Maybe start considering that she doesn’t want you.”

“What?” My lip trembled. “N-No she… we have a bond. It’s there she just needs time. I’m her mate, she’ll want one eventually.”

“Just like Yn will want one?” His eyes were as viscous as the tone of his voice. “You are doing the same thing to Yn that Elain is doing to you. You understand how that feels. Now imagine that Elain was the one you found on the border of the Spring Court and you spent decades nursing her mind back into her body. Recreating her personality and passions. Wouldn’t you be a little fucking irate if she started showing interest in another male after all you did for her?”

I froze.

This was so much deeper than I ever thought it could be. But I could see it. Bringing Elain back to herself all for it to be thrown away by another male. Azriel filled that roll, and I was filled with raw fury at the mere thought of that happening.

“So now you see what Yn has been dealing with. And Gods, Lucien, she has been dealing with it for a long while. What you did was wrong, unjust, and unfair. And for you to be with Elain on the day of her grand opening, where all of us just were, is… that may be unforgivable.”

“I don’t deserve to be forgiven for what I’ve just done…”

My shoulder hunch, and my chest cracks. I am a bleeding mess of tears. I can barely stand as I openly sob in front of Rhys. I’m surprised when he shoves a chair under me instead of letting me crumble to the floor in my self induced agony. And I’m even more surprised when he puts a hand on my shoulder.

It’s Yn. It’s always been Yn. There is nothing in this world that can compare to her or her kindness or her love. What a fool I have been to not take the hand that was given me. What a selfish, self-serving waste of a man I have been to her.

I can’t take it. I have to have her back. I have to fix this. I have to. I have to. I have to.

I stand. “Woah, what are you doing?” Rhys tried to get me to sit down.

“Yn- I have to fix this with Yn-”

“No,” Rhys slams me back into the chair. “You are not going to march back over there.”

“I have to,” I yelled. “I can’t let her kick me out without her knowing that I’m sorry. That I’ll do anything she wants me to to win her back. I can’t be without her, I need her.”

“She kicked you out?” I nodded. “You’re not going anywhere. She clearly doesn’t want to see you. Nothing you could say to her would suffice. Especially right now. She needs time. She needs space. If I find out that you go back to your- her house, I’ll drop you back in the Spring Court, do you understand me?”

I nod viciously.

“Good,” Rhys let out a heavy breath. “You can have your old room back. Nothing in it but a few storage boxes. Everything is otherwise untouched.” Great. My old memories to haunt me. Just what I needed. For a very short week we stayed here. Yn’s room was right across from mine. Just another reminder of everything that’s happened between now and then.

I slump in the seat, letting tears trickle down my nose and onto my knee. Watching them evaporate and dry, just for the material to be soaked again. “I’m so sorry Yn…”

I heard Rhys whirl around, and I could feel the tension across the room. He probably thinks I’m mad. I might as well be.

More footsteps sounded than people in the house and Cassian walked in the room. Luckily I was facing away from him. “Don’t tell me he’s a part of our special detachment.”

I rolled my eyes. Cassian, ever the charming.

“No, he’s… well, he’ll be living here for a little while.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“It’s none of your business,” I snapped. No one spoke. I sighed for what felt like the billionth time today. “Sorry.”

“What happened?” Cassian asked, coming to stand next to me, his body reeking of sweat and dirt. All I had to do was lift my head and I think he understood enough. That or Rhys told him. “I won’t say anything cause I’ll probably just make it worse.”

“Probably,” Rhys nodded.

“Probably.” My eyes burned, so did my skin. “I have to get all my stuff out tomorrow. She told me to.”

“Then you’ll do it tomorrow. Not tonight, tomorrow. Respect her wishes, or I will make you.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“We’ll be back,” Rhys grabbed a few things from his desk then ushered Cassian out the door. “Don’t do anything. Just stay here.”

It could’ve been twenty minutes or two hours until I finally moved upstairs. Forcing myself to not go to Yn’s room was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. All the conversations we had, all the plans we made. It’s where she first got the idea of her restaurant. She literally had a dream and made it a reality.

I’d be lying if I said I told her how proud of her I was. I never have. Why have I never told her that? Could I really have been that caught up in Elain that… Wow. It’s funny how you only realize after the fact.

My bed caught me as I collapsed into it, tucking my knees into my chest. I am such a loser. Pathetic. Just like Rhys said. My heart would burn up and die at this rate. It was a mystery how I hadn’t burst into flames yet.

There are so many things I need, and Yn takes the top of the list. She had always been everything I needed. When I needed comfort, I went to Yn. When I needed solutions, I went to Yn. When I needed answers, to be heard, to be validated, to be loved… who was I supposed to go to now? Definitely not Rhys or Cassian, and certainly not Elain.

Maybe for the first time ever I wanted nothing to do with Elain. I didn’t want to see her. I couldn’t care less if I ever saw her again. Her presence in my life has done nothing but tear my other relationships apart.

She’s the reason I’m here in this mess.

_____

At some ridiculous hour of the night– morning? Is that the sun?– I heard the door open. I shot up, then deflated down. I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t at home. And that wasn’t Yn walking in the door.

Every thought and emotion rushed back into my head, creating an endless tangle of thoughts. The next more horrid and self destructive than the last. I deserve it.

Missing the opening of her restaurant, Latibule–an ancient word for refuge or safe place–was the biggest mistake of my life. I will never be able to make that up to her. I turned her biggest accomplishment into a slimy, diseased memory. I ruined what was supposed to be the best night of her life.

I’ve let her down in a way I’ll never be able to repair.

Even Rhys and Feyre were there last night. And I wasn’t. Nesta and Cassian. Azriel, Amren, Mor… they were all there, supporting her. And I was with Elain. She probably wanted to go, and I was there, holding her back.

I need to get out of this room before it crushes me whole.

I could see the sun just barely peeking over the Sidra when I stepped outside, cloak wrapped tightly around my head and shoulders to keep out the early morning bite.

There wasn’t a soul around, Velaris still blissfully asleep besides this one small corner store that sold hot tea and pastries all hours of the day. Rustling in my pocket was just enough for a peach turnover and a cherry blossom tea.

The bell chimed above the door as I walked in, knocking my boots against the step to not track dirt in.

“Early start to the day, Luc?” Ms. Immy smiled from behind the counter, polishing a few mugs before moving to come to the display case, packed full of delicious goods, savory and sweet.

“Unfortunately,” I sighed. “Couldn’t really sleep.”

“Well I am glad to have you in, the usual?”

“That would be great, Ms. Immy.”

The lovely owner of the bakery was Ms. Immy. One of the older members of the Night Court but as wise as they come. She’s the kindest, most gentle fae to roam Prythian. With her soft, sage green eyes and long, slender ears adorn with piercings, Ms. Immy was by far one of my favorites here.

The kettles whistled behind her as she dipped a tea bag into my mug. Ms. Immy always had designated mugs for her regular customers. Mine was made of green clay, mostly green with a white oval on the front with two lines of flowers. In the center of it all was a simple fox. She once told me that I had the spirit of one of those extinct creatures in the human lands. That I was reserved, and at my core I fiercely protected those I cared about.

If only I had been able to protect Yn from myself.

Her mug had been one crafted of the moon and the stars. With all the constellations of the Gods being lifted into the air by the magic of the Cauldron. Ms. Immy had told her it was a visual representation that Yn was a great reminder of the past to the current world. That she was lost art that was to never be forgotten.

There is nothing I want more than for the rest of the world to be loved as fiercely as she had loved me.

“Here is your tea, Lucien,” Ms. Immy set the mug on the counter, pushing up the glass case and plucking a peach turnover out. “And for you as well.”

“Thank you,” I tried to smile. I stared at the blackberry tart next to the peach turnovers. Yn’s go-to. It made my blood run cold.

I put the coins in her hand before I could begin to cry again and scooted out the door as another person was coming in.

The table and chairs outside were hard and covered in a light mist. It creaked as I sat, just as it always did. I should've sat anywhere else, but my body naturally drifted to this exact spot. It had a good view of the street so Yn and I could watch the people walk by. Pretending we know every bit of their personal lives and beyond. Make up extravagant stories and adventures for the most boring looking individuals in hopes they may one day get to go on them in another lifetime.

Gods she is everywhere. She’s in the tavern across the street, in the stones on the ground that we used to kick on our walks. She’s in the sunrise, the same color of her heated cheeks filling the sky. There is no escaping what used to be my whole world.

Silently, I let a few tears roll down my cheeks. I ought to be ashamed of showing so much emotion in public, but for some reason I can’t find the will to care.

The door chimes and footsteps go back down the street. The door chimes again.

“My fox boy,” Ms. Immy says so softly I almost don’t hear it over the roar in my ears. “What troubles you so badly you can’t sleep?”

I bite my lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises. “I don’t know how to fix something that I’ve done.”

“You missed the opening of Yn’s restaurant.” She says.

I nod. “How did you know?”

“Because I did not see you there, fox boy.”

“She kicked me out, Ms. Immy. I deserved it, every bit of what she said was true.”

“I think that is true, Lucien,” Ms. Immy came and sat in Yn’s spot, folding her hands in her lap, letting out a breath of air as she extended her old, feeble legs. “Nobody is happy with what you’ve done but-”

“I didn’t mean to blow her off Ms. Immy I just-”

“But,” she cuts me off with a pointed look. “I think you are a very lost soul. For the first time in your life you are truly free. No High Lord to obey, no throne to fight for, no war to fight in. Just a High Lord to serve and to respect. You have everything you could ask for, and yet you have no idea what to do with it.”

She’s right. She’s always right. “I want to fix it. I have to.”

“I am afraid that may not be what the spirit of the Gods wants.” Why is it that I get called fox boy and Yn get’s called something as majestic as ‘spirit of the Gods’? “If those are her wishes, you are going to respect them. Eternally.”

“I will go mad. If I don’t have her by my side for the rest of my life I will go mad.” “So you share a bond with her as well?” She asks.

“I don’t know. All I do is that I haven’t stopped crying and shaking at every reminder of her. No matter how small. Life without her in it is meaningless to me. Afterall, she is the one who gave it back to me.”

“And a good job she did, fox boy,” Ms. Immy smiled softly. “You are a good male who has been blinded by instincts. While it is not your fault, it has become your problem. And by the looks of you, it seems like it has become quite the ordeal.”

My shoulders dropped as I put my head in my palms. I breathed. “I don’t know how to function without her. She has been there, every day of my life, for nearly seventy years, Ms. Immy. We did everything together. Our mornings were spent as one, our evenings, all the restaurant planning and-and brunches here with you-”

“Breathe, Lucien-”

“How am I supposed to just pack up my things today and move on? H-How am I supposed to just carry on as if she never existed in my life? The thought of not being able to see her every day makes me want to peel the skin off my flesh.”

Ms. Immy looked at me, the hard lines in her face becoming more defined. “Listen to me very carefully, fox boy. What’s done is done. You cannot go back in time and take back what you said. The worst of it is over. Now comes the long process of trying to piece your life together. Whether Yn will be able to help you will depend on what you decide to do in the next several days. If you follow her wishes of moving out and staying clear, there could be a chance in the future. But, if you neglect her wishes, as you had neglected her to lead you to this moment, then there is no hope.”

If you neglect her wishes, as you had neglected her to lead you to this moment, then there is no hope… Words have never stunned me quite as forcefully as Ms. Immy’s had. The true gravity of the situation has set in, if it hadn’t already. One wrong move and she’s gone. For good.

“There is a reason why you are my little fox, Lucien,” Ms. Immy stood, taking my cold mug that I hadn’t touched. “They were intelligent, cunning creatures, just as you are. Do not let your instincts guide you to a decision. Let your heart and the facts do it for you.”

“The facts? What facts?” “The fact that you have screwed up. The fact that Yn has made a decision for you since you were incapable of doing it yourself. It is truth, and it hurts, but it has to for change to come.” And then she went inside.

I sat with those final words for far longer than I anticipated. It was long enough for people to begin leaving their homes, the streets beginning to fill with people.

Yn would be out of the house by now, opening for the restaurant’s breakfast hours. I could go now. Or I could stay here and try to blend into the hundreds of faces passing in and out. But I need to move. Yn might come in for her apple cider and blackberry tart. If I saw her right now I’d surely do something stupid.

As I walked, the clouds blocked out the sun and it began to drizzle. The drizzle turned into a steady rain, then a downpour. I was soaked through my cloak and boots, water seeping in and out with every step. My hair stuck to the back of my neck.

I kept my head down as I walked, afraid of being recognized. If Ms. Immy had been there to not see me at Latibule, who else?

The cobblestone ended and mud replaced it. I knew where I was.

The old, beaten path dared me to go up to the house. It beckoned me. From here, at the bottom of the hill, I could see several boxes stacked up outside the door, the disposable brown material soaked through with the rain. She was serious…

Some part of me– the extremely selfish part– has been secretly hoping that she’ll tell me she made a mistake and that she wants me back. But I think those boxes are a not-so-gentle-shove in the opposite direction.

The key in my pocket might as well have been the key to another universe, because when I opened the door it was like I entered a whole new world. One without me in it. All the pictures of us, all the paintings Feyre had done for us, were off the walls. All the plants and trinkets and decorations I gifter here were piled in the corner for me to collect.

How could so much damage have been done in just a few hours?

One by one, I packed away the things into the soggy boxes. I moved from room to room. Silently. Hoping this was all a dream only to be launched back into reality with every memory that surfaced. Every possession I had given her in the last seventy years was piled here for me to take.

She wanted no trace of me here. And I didn’t blame her. I don’t want any trace of me either.

I must’ve stayed there for hours– crying, packing, reliving moments I had long forgotten only to cry again– because it was close to sunset now. Every trace of me was packed up; all those pictures, all those trinkets, all my clothes and bathing goods… everything I owned fit into these boxes. Everything except for the one person I didn’t want to do life without.

But Rhys and Ms. Immy are right. If I try to do something now, to get her back, I’ll ruin any real chance. That is something I can’t afford.

To an immortal, a few months or years equivalates to just a few minutes of human life. But if it takes years for Yn to accept me back in her life…

Besides the clothes and membranes from the Autumn and Spring Courts, I discard everything. I will tear myself to bits if I don’t get rid of them. Will I regret it down the road, probably, but I can’t have them.

The two boxes and bag of clothes I carry from her house to the Town House are water logged and falling apart. It’s a miracle they didn’t unravel completely. Just add more humiliation to a High Lords son dragging boxes and bags through the street. I deserve all the stare’s and hushed questions.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sights of Rhys and Cassian helping me carry them up the stairs.

“I don’t know how you’re feeling but-”

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “Just… just don’t. I don’t want your pity, Cassian.”

“I am probably the last person besides Azriel who would pity you, Lucien. And I had no intentions to belittle you for what you did. I was going to offer you a spot in my training ring if you ever needed an escape.”

His kindness shocked me. I can’t say I know the Illyrian well, but this gesture spoke a lot to his character. So I sighed, of course I thought he was going to be hostile to me. Everyone should. “Oh.”

“Training starts at eight and goes to one. Come well fed and in something warm. The top of the House is colder.”

Neither of us said anything else as he left me to unpack.

______

Some weeks later I had taken Cassian up on his offer. Him and Nesta were great at kicking my ass and telling me about it. This side of both of them was far different than the ones I had seen. Here, Cassian wasn’t a prick. He was an instructor, teaching me how to defend my life and my honor. Nesta was… less Nesat. She channeled this otherworldly presence and became one with her weapon.

Me on the other hand… it was far more difficult. Fighting and battle wasn’t rooted in my blood like it was for Cassian. It was much harder for me to get it but I sorta did. Sorta.

“Just keep working on that footwork and it’ll help with the sword placement. If you’re solid by the end of the week, I’ll put a real one in your hands,” Cassian grinned, chucking me my practice weapon.

It brought a quick smile to my face. As fast as it was there it was gone. Like most these days.

When I got home, I rifled through my closet. Brown and green and cream colored shirts after another. Where was that Night Court Blue one I had gotten a long time ago? I could’ve sworn I plucked it from the pile on the floor- no, that was a towel. I was planning on wearing it to dinner at the River House tonight for Mor’s birthday.

Oh, Yn has it. I had given it to her to wear for a meeting with a realtor when looking at properties. She had tucked it into this black leather skirt.

I’ll swing by on my way to the party to get it. Mor always liked the color on me, and said it brought out the fire in my hair. She’ll appreciate the gesture.

After a shower and some other outfit choices, I can’t help but want that blue shirt. I’ll just go get it.

Through the falling leaves, I make my way down the street, across it, and to the meadow. There are six or seven houses with smoke billowing out of their chimneys. But there, right in the distance, is her house. She’ll be at her restaurant tonight so I know I’m safe.

I scurry up the path, still worried about being seen for some reason.

Has it been easy these past couple weeks? No. I haven’t been able to think of anything but her. Or dream of anything but her. It’s awful. Not her, but the fact that somehow, someway, she is still everywhere I am. In those memories in the darkest part of the night. The darkest part of my mind reserved for her and her only.

I hadn’t dared to go visit Elain. I don’t feel the need anymore. Which is relieving and frightening at the same time. It’s like there is a gaping hole in my heart that nothing will fill. Not even training. It proves a good secondary distraction, but nothing can suppress the primary guilt I feel every waking–

What is that smell? I stopped just shy of the door, key in hand. It wants to smell like the rest of the smoke and ash wafting into the air from the nearby cabins, but it’s… more alive? What if she left the stove on? Or a candle? There are hints of woods mixed into it, but not the type of woodsy scent from pine or maple logs.

I jam the key in as fast as I can to unlock the door. What if she left the fireplace burning or had an electrical fire or-

In the span of five seconds, three things happened. One: Yn was here. And she looked so beautiful. Her eyes are bright and full of color. Two: she was being held by someone, his hands on her cheeks. Three: boiling rage shot through when I realized who it was.

Eris.

~~~~~~~~~

Part 3

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #lucien x you #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar fandom

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skele-bunny · 4 months ago

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Y'all are INSANE. Alright fine have pt 2 of this Zephrit post

"Don't forget your own song, mutt. Do you want me to show them who really sings when they're fucked like a damn dog? Hm? Now go sit and keep your jaw shut, Welpe."

Later in the evening back in their room, how Ifrit is standing still while Zephyr sits on the bed, leaning against their cane. Given just the simple command to strip and sit. Ifrit's always been a good dog, always complied.

Zephyr's cane going between his legs and touching his hard dick, the rubber stopper pressing hard until Ifrit's cock is touching his stomach.

"You sure did have a mouth on you earlier, didn't you pup?"

A little laugh and Zephyr stands, Ifrit groaning as Zeph's weight goes on the cane that's still pressed on him. His horn grabbed and face brought closer, fingers rubbing under his chin. His mouth landing on Zephyr's pants with a little whine, looking up with those still pink tinted eyes as Zephyr speaks again.

"Use your teeth and pull my pants down, and make sure to look cute." Pats his cheek. "Might save you, if you do."

Send tweet.

#the band ghost #ghost band #rabrev writing #nsfwriting rambles #zephyr ghoul #ifrit ghoul #zephrit #cw pet play

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kalifornia1025 · 7 months ago

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Shoscombe Old Place Pt. 3 (SPOILERS)

Just gonna say based on my notes, I LOVED this case!

1. John’s less-than jovial intro and the mention of a ‘medical emergency’ followed by a sigh…I was both stressed and wanting to hug him because dude are you okay?? What’s gonna happen??!

2. GENIUS that this case coincidentally goes alongside John’s personal issues revolving around Carrie and her leaving Archie with him! Especially with John and Carrie’s own argument sneaking into an argument about the case. It was honestly so cathartic hearing John call her out on how shitty she was being about something that SHE did! (And we hear a bit more about the healing process John went through after he got hit with the IED bomb!)

4. God, this podcast is just amazing about monologues!! Monologues are hit-or-miss depending on where you hear them from, but this podcast KNOWS that a good monologue is definitely needed for a Sherlock podcast. The whole time I was just captivated by Robert’s monologue: how his sister’s husband’s family was really well off, how Robert’s family wasn’t (also a nice connection to his and John’s personal struggles with classism), and Robert scrambling to do everything Beatrice wished for when she died while also trying to keep up appearances so he wouldn’t have to give everything back to the Falder family and be left with…nothing. No cars, no fancy house, not even his sister…

5. John getting excited to drive one of the cars was great! “JOHN HAMISH WATSON!” “Don’t you ‘Hamish’ ME!”😂😂 Great way to balance out the somberness of Robert’s dilemma with the comedic nature of the podcast!

6. Love love LOVE when Sherlock adaptations remind us that John is a DOCTOR, and a competent one at that!! Dr. John Watson is honestly my favorite character, and so far THIS John is becoming one of my fave Watsons! I was stressing alongside John during that medical emergency scene😰

7. The ending was honestly so sweet! John going back to the river that was used as an analogy for him and his new life, Sherlock packing everything up for John (which is a difference compared to pt. 1 starting with Sherlock not even getting his own things packed yet), Sherlock also passing on some words of appreciation from Joe that John definitely needed, and some lighthearted comedy sprinkled in to wrap up the whole episode🥰💕.

What. A. Case!! I love the direction this podcast is going when it comes to telling classic Sherlock cases while still making it interesting and exciting! I’m glad they only made a SMALL mention to Moriarty because some adaptations get too eager to introduce him into the story and immediately mess with Sherlock. This podcast made the right decision when introducing Moriarty: he’s there, but only a foreboding threat (as he should be). I already posted about my “who Moriarty really is” theory (I know there’s one error in it, but I’ve since then clarified it) but I’m not in a hurry to have my theory be proven right or wrong. I’m just happy with Sherlock and John solving their cases for now☺️.

Whew! Sorry for all that. Just needed to get it all out of my system. Welp, now I gotta wait patiently until they reveal what their next case will be for next week😬.

#sherlock and co #shoscombe old place #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock & co #sherlock and co spoilers

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rachelsfav-queer · 4 months ago

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Beekeeper Wednesday PT. 3

(It’s a Threequel!! Part 1, Part 2)

Bianca: Hey, vampire!

Yoko: *rolls her eyes* That’s not my name and you know it, asshole. *flips her off*

Bianca: *waves her off* Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what’s going on with the little psychopath? What the hell is she wearing?

Yoko: Oh, that’s her beekeeping suit. She wears it all the time now. Trust me, you do NOT want to ask.

Bianca: Sure, whatever. Well, she’s gonna have to take it off for fencing later today. Coach is not gonna let it slide.

Yoko: Wait, no! Girl trust me that is not a battle you wanna- and she’s already gone. Welp, I guess I’m getting lunch and a show today. *sits back and sips on her bag of O-negative*

Bianca walks over to confront Wednesday, only to be sent sprinting and screaming her head off out of the quad when Wednesday’s head melts into a dark shadow and she lets out a loud demonic screech at the siren. Enid, sitting next to Wednesday, simply pets the shadow form, calming the eldritch demon down.

Divina: *sits down next to Yoko* Lemme guess, she tried to tell Wends to remove the suit before fencing.

Yoko: Yep. *pops lips* I tried to warn her! She was already gone before I could tell her though.

Divina: *sighs* Well, it serves her right, anyway. I still haven’t forgiven her for that garlic stunt she pulled on you last year.

End <3

(Huge thanks & credits to @caitlynskitten for creating this au and to @lisaslosingstreak and @achromatophoric inspiring this hilarious little storyline of Eldritch Wednesday lol. I’m still so obsessed with this AU!!)

#my writing #wenclair #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #bianca barclay #yoko tanaka #divina wednesday #incorrect wednesday quotes #wenclair au #eldritch #eldritch wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday series

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justcallmesakira · 11 months ago

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PORT MAFIA RANPO WHO... {2}

Sypnosis:

PM! Ranpo x reader

Warnings: guns, established relationship, gets suggestive, lovebites, implied smut, reader is a bit shy and timid type (not like y/n tho1)

Genre: romance, suggestive

A/N: back with pt 2 guys!!! i litterly have 0 motivation to do this shit but welp I LOVE PM RAN- wait no nononononon i hate ranpo i hate him he sucks !! stop it sakira you cant simp for him AAAAAAAAAHG

Port mafia ranpo who confessed to you just when the agency got in trouble so he gets to spend more time with you and the agency gets in trouble too, he barely cares about them, the only thing he wants to lay victory on is you

Port mafia ranpo who sends you buckets of sugary sweets and bouqets of dark red carnations to remind you that a floret of a deep shade of crimson symolizes posession

Port mafia ranpo who makes sure whoever hurted you or hurts you in the future in any way gest to know just what torturous things the great executive can do

Port mafia ranpo who only giggles when his subcordinates stare at the separate box of candy on his table which has a certain ada member`s intial on it

Port mafia ranpo who will soon enough gaslight you into moving in with him because it keeps you much closer to him! Cant let his treat astray to the dogs

Port mafia ranpo who shamelessly flirts with you on the gatherings of the pm and ada even when you try pushing him away to let everyone know what both of you are he doesnt care about the conflict which could happen at all

Port mafia ranpo who is a lot intense than he acts, just because he always acts cheeky and all doesnt mean he is any less powerful

Port mafia ranpo who calls you to his office in the middle of the day and makes you sit on his lap as he working, He just loves to see you squirm because of him!

Port mafia ranpo who always has an eye for you so when you tried to take a glance at what his working on he simply write on the piece of paper "My eyes are over here sweetheart" which instantly shakens you up

Port mafia ranpo who loves making you flustered in every way possible! whether its a hickey or a lovebite, or just a penthouse! He knows every thing you like. And i mean everything

Port mafia ranpo who intentionally marks you on places where it is obvious to see so everyone knows who you belong to what? he cant eat his own candy now?

Port mafia ranpo whos extremley rough in bed especially after a long day of handling idiots, so dont be surprised if you cant walk tommorow!

Port mafia ranpo who will make shifts and mistakes in your routine so he can appear wherever you are and call it concidence he just wants to spend time with his lovely little candy

A.N: hopeyallranposmpsenjoyedthiscrap

Tags!: @terururuko @typcallysid14 @little-miss-chaoss @biscuits-spooky-corner

Divider crds!: @cafekitsune

#port mafia ranpo #bungou gay dogs #bsd #sakiras writing notebook!!!#ranpo x reader #ranpo edogawa #ranpo bsd #bsd fic #bsd pm au #bsd u #bsd writing #smut #ranpo smut #ranpo fluff #ranpo #bsd x reader #bsd spicy

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

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Batshit Soulmates Part 4

Hey, hey! Another lovely chapter of our beloved dorks.

We get to Skull Rock and Dustin is annoyed and then concerned.

In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1| Pt 2|Pt 3|

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Eddie was bored again. Bored and in pain. Now wasn’t that kick to the ole Munson Doctrine. Not only was he soulmates with King Steve the Hair, he was fucking true paired with the guy.

Now, look he wasn’t stupid. He knew that the reason Harrington wasn’t around was because the cops were keeping an eye on the kids and anyone associated with them.

But between the pain of the almost literally bleeding soulmark and his own stupid bleeding heart, he couldn’t help but wonder if Steve didn’t want to be his soulmate.

He told Eddie that they would keep him updated via the walkie-talkie, but he hadn’t heard from them today. He had tried to contacting them, but he had only gotten Nancy telling him that they weren’t going to bring him beer. Which, rude. He wasn’t going to down the whole six pack in one go. He did have some sense of preservation, thanks.

He just needed to take the edge off his anxiety. That and the alcohol would help him sleep better.

Then he heard the crunch of the gravel and sighed with relief. He just hoped it was Steve and not Nancy with the food delivery, because Steve would absolutely bring him the beer.

Eddie peaked out the window and immediately ducked back down. “Shit, shit!”

He grabbed the walkie-talkie and begged for them to answer him. But there was no answer.

He looked at the boat and decided that hiding in it would be fruitless. The bottle trick wouldn’t with jocks. So he quickly unwrapped the rope keeping it from floating off and jumped in. He didn’t want to rev the engine and bring them running, so he began to paddle to get away from them as quietly as he could.

But luck was not with Eddie Munson that day or ever. He was barely only twenty feet into the lake before Jason and his cronies spotted him. Welp! No need to worry about sound now. So he yanked on the pull starter for the engine. It didn’t even have the decency to sputter. He tried again. But it was dead. He started rowing again, but it was too late.

Jason and his cronies were almost on top of him. And then the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened.

The black kid, Patrick Eddie was sure his name was, was suddenly pulled to the bottom of the lake as if grabbed by something under the water.

Patrick shot up in a way that Eddie was all too familiar with. His eyes went white as they started to bleed. Eddie scrambled back on the boat, screaming in terror. It was only then that Jason and the other kid turned to look behind them.

All three boys watched in mounting horror as Patrick’s limbs twisted in the most unnatural ways. The sound of the snapping was clearer out there on the water, Eddie found out to his greatest horror and disgust. He scrambled back farther, trying to get away from the horrors before him and then he fell backwards into the water and the sounds of terror were silenced as water rushed around his ears.

****

Steve had a bad feeling all night. It was something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He just knew that something had gone wrong, horribly, horribly wrong with Eddie. And it all started when they were exploring the Creel house and their flashlight bulbs exploded.

Steve tried to get anyone to listen to him that he needed to check on Eddie that second. But Nancy told him to wait until tomorrow as it would be far more suspicious to go out there at night then to wait in the morning.

Robin and he shared a glance, but she nodded, too. He had to wait.

And in the morning his worst fears had been confirmed. Jason had found Eddie and Vecna had taken another victim, forcing Eddie to run for Skull Rock.

So they all decided to take a hike to Skull Rock. Or at least as many of them as they could gather. Which was all but Erica, but Steve didn’t mind leaving her out of it this time. He still felt guilty about dragging her into it at the mall.

“Dustin,” Steve said. “You are going the wrong way.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “You know, just because you’re soulmates doesn’t mean you can find Eddie without a compass, you know.”

Steve put his hands on his hips. “That wasn’t what I was suggesting.” Though, the relief was fucking palpable the closer they got to Eddie. The pain in his forearm was receding to almost nothing and he wasn’t sweating from the low grade fever he had been nursing the last three days.

“Look,” Lucas said, “we all know the place’s reputation for being a make out spot but that doesn’t mean you know how to get there.”

Nancy giggled behind her hand.

Steve started marching in the correct direction. “You dweebs, I’m the reason it’s known as a make out spot.”

“There is no way,” Max said. “You’re a bigger loser than they are.” But she hurried to catch up to Steve.

“My compass says that we’re going the wrong way,” Dustin whined.

Steve steadfastly ignored him. “Ask your parents if they’ve lived here long enough, it’s only been a known make out spot for the last few years.”

“That’s gross!” Dustin said as he narrowly avoided the branch Steve had deliberately snapped back to catch him in the face.

Nancy giggled again. “Sorry, guys. But he’s right. And before you ask, no I was not the first one he brought out here, nor was I the last.”

“Tada!” Steve said. “I told you that I knew where I was going.” He pushed a branch out of the way to reveal Skull Rock.

Dustin looked down at his compass again and frowned. “That’s not possible.”

Steve walked into the clearing and pointed at Skull Rock, everyone shuffling behind him. Dustin kept looking up at the famous landmark and then back at his compass, like he couldn’t believe his own eyes over the reading the compass was giving him.

“Admit it, Dustin,” Steve said. “I was right and your compass was wrong.”

“But it doesn’t make sense!” Dustin protested.

“You just can’t admit you’re wrong,” Steve said, staring up at the landmark, “even when it’s staring you right in the face, you little butthead.”

Suddenly Eddie jumped down from the top of Skull Rock and landed neatly on his feet.

“I totally concur,” he said, straightening his clothes, “that you Dustin Henderson are a total butthead.”

Dustin turned around and breathed a sigh of relief. “Holy shit, man. We were terrified. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

They hugged.

And spike of jealousy shivered down Steve’s spine.

He wasn’t even sure he was most jealous of. Eddie for being a better big brother to Dustin. Or Dustin, for being able to hug Eddie whenever he wanted.

His brain and heart decided on both. The traitorous things.

They told Eddie about what happened to them while the basketball team was hunting him.

“Shit,” Eddie said, shaking his head. He looked down at his watch and it was in this weird frozen state. Like it had stopped working before he fell in the lake.

“About what time did you guys say your flashlights blew?”

Nancy looked over at him and then back at Steve.

Steve told him the time.

Eddie worked the watch off his wrist. “I think that’s when Patrick died.” He held it out and Nancy took it.

“I think you’re right,” she said softly. “Which means that Vecna is connected to whatever happened in that house.”

“The compass isn’t working,” Dustin said with a frown.

Steve whirled around. “Are you still on about that? You’re just mad that I found the place without one.”

Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know, man. The last time magnets and compasses didn’t work it was bad.”

“Like how bad?” Robin asked stumbling forward.

“Like a gate opening level of bad,” Dustin muttered darkly.

“What’s so bad about gate opening?” Eddie asked.

They all turned to him slowly wondering how best to explain this to the poor guy.

Steve folded his arms and sighed. “These are doorways to another dimension that mirrors ours. Basically: hell.”

Eddie stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Jesus Christ.”

They all nodded.

“We need to find this guy’s weakness and stake him through the heart,” Max murmured.

Steve frowned. “Is he like a vampire?”

Eddie leaned forward too.

Max rolled her eyes. “It’s a metaphor.”

Steve’s frown deepened.

“You don’t have to come with us,” Dustin said. “We can find another place to hide you until we get this all sorted. But you know we could really use you, man.”

Eddie rubbed his face. “You’re asking me to march into Mordor.”

Dustin nodded.

He closed his eyes. “But the shire is burning so Mordor it is.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Well we can’t just take a stroll through the woods, Eddie’s still wanted for murder.”

“What choice have we got?” Lucas asked. “We can’t leave him here.”

Steve sighed. “All right, come along, Eds. Let’s get out of here.”

Eddie scrambled to his feet to follow them.

“Hey, don’t forget your shit, man,” Steve said waving behind Eddie.

“Oh yeah!” Eddie swerved to grab his canteen and the walkie-talkie he stole.

When he caught up to Steve he said, “Mordor is from Lord of the Rings, it’s where the bad guy lives. It’s dark and gloomy and filled with evil creatures.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like the Upside Down all right.”

“So why is it called the Upside down?”

And as they walked they explained things to each so that the other understood.

****

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

If you saw this last night, no you didn't. I was trying to schedule for this morning and hit post instead.

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Hey, @itsall-taken I think I can tag you normally again.

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #soulmate au

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slvtforfiction · 1 year ago

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Truth or drink (pt.2!)

☆ Colby X reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Suggestive (No smut) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ A like,reblog and comment is always appreciated:) ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Cw: alcohol obvs (idc what u say tequila rose is banging,fight me)

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I’ve lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

Masterlist | Pinned Post | Part 1

Colby 🖤:

Hey doll,you wanna do drink or truth again? Like a part 2 but just us?

You:

Yeah sure,am I gonna get embarrassed again?

Colby 🖤:

Welp we both are so does it matterrr?

You:

Oh god tell me some of the questions then 🤦‍♀️

Colby 🖤:

Maybe some about kinks and maybe something about some other stuff :)

You:

Yay I’m so excited this is going to make me want to really do more videos with you!

Colby 🖤:

Laying on the sarcasm pretty thick

You:

If your asking if I care,I don’t :)

Colby 🖤:

Love you’re always sarcastic,I’ll see you down here in 10 hm?

You:

Okay,omw x

Colby 🖤:

Good girl,see you soon x

I blushed leaving him on read as I changed my top to a red and black crop top he had gotten me and some black ripped jeans that I got on a shopping trip with him along with some fishnets below them to spice it up.

I walked upstairs to his apartment which was right above mine and knocked his door waiting patiently for an answer.

He quickly answered and I saw the living room already set up with a tripod,camera,2 shot glasses,tequila rose for me and Smirnoff vodka for him.

“Oo my favourite!” I smiled as I realised he had remembered my favourite alcoholic drink.

“Yeah ofcourse.” He said smiling clearly knowing i would say yes to the video idea by the already prepared drinks.

He finished the intro and grabbed his phone reading out the first question, “Why do you not talk to the last person you “did the dirty” with?” And I looked at him,looked at the shot glass and poured myself a shot downing it immediately.

“I still speak to the person I last slept with so,” I shrugged,not wanting to actually admit on camera that Colby and me were dating and therefore he was my last.

“Same but I don’t think they want to be public so I’m drinking.” He said before taking a shot and smiling at me.

I always seemed to find comfort in his smile no matter what he was smiling at or who he was smiling at,although I thought it was a much better feeling when he was smiling at me.

“What is your favourite activity with your significant other?” He asked as he looked at me softly,his gaze mesmerising.

“I like just laying on the sofa with them and cuddling,it’s the little things you know what I mean?” I smiled back as he looked at the camera clapping his hands together.

“I don’t really know I think just their presence in anything I do is really special to me,I just like everything I do with them.” He said smiling softly and I smiled,blush running to my cheeks.

I knew after this video I was ready,ready to go on twitter and scream and rave about him being my boyfriend as long as Colby didn’t mind.

“Name 2 non-vanilla kinks you have.” He said smiling at me before he saw me pick up my drink,watching his smirk fall of his face.

“You know what? If you answer I’ll answer.” I said laughing putting my drink down. “Oh god Uhm okay.” He said laughing nervously clearly not expecting that.

“Can we say ones we said in the last truth or drink video?” I asked and he shook his head. “Nah that’s boring and also you can’t anyways because you said vanilla kinks.” He said smiling at me.

“Okay you say yours then and I’ll say mine I guess.” I said laughing nervously and he looked me dead in the eyes before leaning back on the sofa and putting his hands behind his head,kissing his teeth.

“Okay um,I’m nervous now.” He said laughing before kissing his teeth again and answering “okay um I like tying up my partner and I mean if a girls gonna call me daddy she’s gonna call me daddy.” He said and I giggled to myself.

“I didn’t actually think you would answer.” I whined not wanting to answer. “Well come on you have to answer now.” He said laughing at my embarrassment and im sure by now he had figured out my humiliation kink although I wouldn’t have said that anyways.

“Okay uh I have a size kink and I really like hickeys and stuff so I guess marking?” I laughed nervously as I realised my boyfriend was the one sat next to me probably making mental notes to himself.

Colby cracked up laughing as he clapped his hands together trying to make sure I knew that he was going to use this against me and honestly I was definitely wanting him to tie me up after this video.

We soon moved on and after about an hour of filming we got to our last question, “What’s one thing you dislike about me?” He asked and I shuffled closer to him to whisper in his ear.

“That you haven’t tied me up underneath you yet.” I then turned round and grabbed my drink,pouring myself another shot,at this point I had had about 10 shots,so what’s another one?

I downed my drink and he quickly downed his before ending the video.

“Don’t say shit like that to me whilst filming.” He said,I smiled and turned around from the fridge after grabbing myself a bottle of water.

“Hm I’ll think about it.” I said and he continued to walk up to me,cornering his hands around my waist against the counter top.

“Do you want to be tied up like a little slut?” He asked “Is that what you want hm?” And I smiled at him whilst he remained silent and faking his anger.

“Maybe it is..daddy.” I whispered in his ear before kissing down his neck,he picked me up by the waist and carried me upstairs.

“Wanna cuddle up on the sofa,beautiful?” He asked softly raking his hand through my hair as I laid my head on chest.

“No,wanna stay here.” I mumbled half asleep and fully naked still lying on his chest.

He had his boxers on and got up quickly leaving me on the bed barely able to move.

“Come back Colbs.” I whispered and he smiled, “I will im just going to get you a shirt,okay?” He asked and I smiled sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

“Can we be public? Like us?” I asked quietly scared to even suggest it “Yeah sure,I’d like that.” He smiled looking back at me.

“I’ll post it on twitter tomorrow morning if you still want to yeah?” He asked and I whispered an ‘okay’.

His lights remained off,his LEDS being the source of red light throughout the room and I smiled bashfully again as he lifted up an arm and then another putting me in his xplr shirt.

The room still smelt of sex and my wrists still had marks which Colby would religiously kiss for the next few days.

“Love you Colbs.” I said before falling asleep with an arm wrapped around me and another still taking through my hair.

“I love you too sweetheart.” I heard him whisper before dozing off.

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