#yes the spells are just latin

[grapesodatozier]

Insight Check

my contribution to @reddieweek this year!! thank you so much to the mods for putting this all together <333

written for Day 5: Books/Games/Movies/TV

Richie Tozier is a bard harboring a secret crush on his best friend and a secret power he has no control over. When an ambush against Richie and Eddie brings the latter secret to light, Richie's guilt over putting Eddie in danger makes him distance himself from Eddie. He can at least still keep the being in love with him a secret, right?

dnd 5e au!! richie is a tiefling bard/wild magic sorcerer multiclass, eddie is a halfling ranger!

word count: 6,378

rating: mature for mild violence and raunchy sex jokes lol

tags/warnings: pining, secrets, insecurity, guilt, miscommunication, angst, angst with a happy ending, love confessions

read on ao3 or below!!

Richie sat perched in the tree, purple tail swishing behind him as he watched Eddie check over his components list once more. He had everything he needed, and his pronunciation was pretty good, but he was struggling with the somatic components. Richie watched him try a few more times, his wrist and fingers refusing to make the shapes he needed, before he slid down from his perch. 

“I knew you were there,” Eddie said without even turning to face him. Eddie never let Richie have the satisfaction of thinking he’d snuck up on him.

“Is that why you keep choking?” Richie teased, walking leisurely up to his friend. “You trying too hard to impress me?”

“Fuck off,” Eddie said, his brow furrowing further in concentration. He said the incantation again, but again, nothing happened. He let out a frustrated breath and his posture slacked.

“Eds, it’s called wind wall,” Richie said, coming up behind him. “You think wind is that stiff?” 

Eddie let out a frustrated sigh, but he didn’t move away from Richie. “Walls are supposed to be pretty stiff, dumbass.” He looked over his shoulder, having to look up quite a bit to meet Richie’s eye, given that Richie had about a nearly three foot height advantage over Eddie. Nonetheless, Eddie bumped his shoulder against Richie as he ribbed him. 

“Still,” Richie said, concealing the lump in his throat he always got when Eddie looked at him like that, all big brown eyes and long lashes, “you need to loosen up a little. You’re gonna need to be able to do this on the fly, which means you need to find what feels natural.”

Gently, carefully, Richie put his hand on Eddie’s. Richie’s hand was a light lavender, speckled with spots of darker purple, Eddie’s hand tan and sun kissed. Eddie’s hand was a lot smaller than Richie’s, with a bit of dirt under his short nails, but their fingers were both covered in similar callouses—turns out, lute strings and arrow strings have similar effects. Eddie gave another little huff, but once again, let Richie show him. Richie pressed so gently against him, a barely there touch, to help Eddie even his breathing. He loosened Eddie’s fingers, encouraged his wrist to relax. 

Being this close to Eddie, it felt like everything around them was utterly still, like the only tangible thing was the beating of Richie’s own heart, and the smell of Eddie’s hair, the warmth of his skin which Richie was barely touching.

He stepped back when he caught himself lingering too long. “Uh, there, try it now.”

This wasn’t a new thing, Richie wanting to be close to Eddie. It was just new that he’d realized what it meant, and that maybe it wasn’t just what good close friends felt for one another. None of their party had ever really commented on it, and while Eddie would playfully shove him away, he’d just as soon cuddle up to Richie.

But lately… Lately Richie found himself wanting things that didn’t strike even him as particularly platonic. He wanted Eddie in ways that were selfish. In ways that weren’t fair to Eddie. He kept doing this, kept leaning closer to Eddie than he should, kept staying there for longer than he should, making up reasons to touch his hand, his arm. 

Meanwhile, Eddie had no idea. Surely he wouldn’t let Richie touch him so constantly if he knew how Richie truly felt, if he knew that Richie wanted to hold him closer than anyone else, that he was constantly thinking about Eddie, about holding him close, how much he treasured the moments he had Eddie to himself. How even when he made Eddie smile and laugh it was selfish, because Richie got to bask in the warm glow of Eddie’s attention. 

So Eddie didn’t know, and Richie was trying to keep it that way. And it turned his stomach sour thinking about it, because it was just another thing that Eddie didn’t know about Richie.

But it was for the best Eddie didn’t know. Especially about the other thing.

That thing Richie had known about for even longer. That thing had been happening since he was about twelve, and only Bill knew about it, and even that was only because he was the only one there the first time it happened. Bill checked up about it, but Richie assured him it was fine, that it was under control. And Bill had promised not to tell any of the others as long as Richie promised that he was okay. The honesty in those promises, Richie wasn’t proud to say, was shaky at best. But he didn’t want his weird mysterious magic shit to be another problem for Bill to deal with. It was dangerous, Richie knew that. So he tried to tamp it down, tried to suppress it so he wouldn’t hurt anybody. He was perfectly happy making magic come out of his lute, he didn’t need some shit he didn’t understand and couldn’t control coming from fucking within him, thank you very much.

Yet it kept growing inside of him, even as he tried to ignore it and cover it up. He tried to focus on his instrument, to focus on learning spells, safe spells. But the other abilities just… kept coming. And he never knew what it was gonna be that came next.

He couldn’t put his friends through that. 

More selfishly, he couldn’t put himself through how they might react if they found out.

Richie had a bad habit of getting too in his head like this. It helped, at least, that he always had Eddie looking out for him—just like he was when he stiffened even further just then, his hand flying to his bow. “Richie,” he said under his breath, “I think we need to go—” 

“What’s this?” a voice called out, the interruption bouncing off the trees around them. Richie scanned the area, spotting Henry Bowers sauntering out of the trees northwest of them, with Belch, Victor, and Patrick behind him. “Your party lets you two out on your own? You barely stack up to a competent adventurer combined.”

Eddie drew his bow and knocked an arrow, pointing it in warning, not yet releasing it. “Fuck off,” he growled. 

Panic began to well in Richie, and with it, the sparkling, prickling feeling that shot from the center of his body to his fingertips. But he wasn’t about to let Eddie be the only target here.

“I think you need to get out more Bowers,” he said, “if you think skulking around in the woods of your hometown like a creep makes you an ‘adventurer.’” 

It was a lot easier to suppress his panic when they had five other people backing them up. But here, they were outnumbered. Richie thought maybe there was a chance he and Eddie could take them, but he wasn’t betting on their odds, no matter how much shit he was talking.

“You really shouldn’t hang out in the woods alone like this,” Patrick said, his voice dripping a slimy, cold delight as he ignored Eddie’s warning and Richie’s heckling. He stepped forward. “Your friends are probably gonna be pretty sad when they find you.”

Richie reached for his lute, but something deep red was already falling over Patrick’s eyes, his hands forming a shape Richie thought he recognized as a shatter spell. 

His hand slipped on his lute.

Eddie let the arrow loose, and it thudded into Patrick’s shoulder. It looked like it hurt, but it didn’t stop his casting. 

Patrick’s wrist twisted.

Fuck.

There was no time. 

Fuck.

There was no time for math—only the chill down Richie’s spine as Eddie’s spell faltered and Patrick’s went off.

Richie pushed his glasses up, letting the panicked prickling surge forward into sparks.

“Revertis.” He ground the word out between his teeth as though that might keep the consequences at bay and waved his hand in the air, wiping the energy that came at him and Eddie away like brushing the dust off a library tome. He felt it ripple against him, the energy of Patrick’s thwarted spell mixing with the fear that hatcheted away at Richie’s rib cage.

It stirred something.

Richie had tried to tap into it carefully, but he could feel that familiar sensation of something becoming dislodged.

The sparks staggered statically in his fingers for a moment before shooting rapidly inward, concentrating and swirling like an inferno in his chest.

Fucking fuck fuck.

“What the fuck?” Belch called out.

Henry was seething, already reaching for his blade, rusty and worn, stained proudly with old brown hints of previous violence.

Patrick… Patrick just tilted his head and smiled at Richie like he was some sort of interesting bug. 

Richie didn’t look at Eddie. He couldn’t afford to; it might break him.

And for once, Richie’s shame was on his side—for as Henry, Victor, and Belch surged forward, the inferno surged up Richie’s throat, ripping his jaw open farther than he thought it ought have been able to open, and a cone of flame and heat burst forth, igniting not only the assholes in front of him, but the grass and brush around them as well.

The meadow was alight.

“R-Richie?”

Eddie’s voice was like a bucket of cold water over Richie’s head.

“You can’t do that,” Henry gritted out, frantically trying to shake off the flames. He was hurt, but not out of the fight, not even close. “You don’t… You’re a fucking bard, and a shitty one! You don’t know that kind of magic—”

Shit, the flames were spreading fast, chasing toward Eddie, and Henry was getting his blade out again.

“Richie,” Eddie said again, pulling him out of one panic into another. “Are you okay?”

Richie did something then that he knew he’d be apologizing for until at least the end of the month: he threw Eddie over his shoulder, using the momentum to swing his instrument into his hands, and turned from the fight. 

“Portat ianua,” he said, his voice seeming to warp as he plucked at the lute’s strings. Suddenly, the heat and screams were gone completely. Instead, Richie’s feet were pounding against clearer grass, a stream running behind them, the parting of the trees that led to the garden behind the library within sight. Richie set Eddie down as soon as it was safe. 

“Richard fucking Tozier—”

“We should still be running,” Richie said, grabbing Eddie by the hand. “They could be behind us, but we’re almost there—”

“Okay, fine, we can run first and talk later,” Eddie begrudgingly allowed, taking Richie by the hand. 

A new thrill shot up Richie’s arm, one that was almost as terrifying as the other sparks had been, almost as volatile. 

They made it to the back of the library without incident, Richie’s lungs burning by the time they arrived. But the physical exertion wasn’t the only thing that had Richie’s heart racing, and they certainly hadn’t run far enough to excuse the bile that was forming in Richie’s throat. He froze in place as Eddie opened the back door, the one that Mike let them use.

Eddie began to step through, then paused when he saw Richie wasn’t following. He looked worried, the expression always clear on his face when directed toward Richie, but then another familiar one came along: frustration. In his head, Richie saw it turning into anger.

“Richie—” Eddie stepped toward him. 

But all Richie could feel was the fire that had come out of him, the fire catching on the grass.

He was looking at Eddie, but he was seeing Bill, around twelve years old, his eyes going wide. Richie had been practicing spells on his lute, but he wasn’t getting very far. The frustration and shame had burned hot inside of him, swirling in a way that felt potent and new, yet somehow familiar, like deja vu, or an old favorite song he’d forgotten about. He’d just meant to shake out his hand, to loosen his cramping fingers, but a jolt of ice and chill had burst forth from his hand, hitting a rock to his side. It had been fun, when it was just that. Richie tried to do it again, getting there quite easily. Bill had laughed and watched him, Richie shooting them out left and right, getting fancy with it. He still remembered Bill, giggling and running for cover. He remembered feeling that heat within himself, the power of it dizzying. He remembered when he’d assumed it was just the thrill of learning he could cast without his instrument.

But then, suddenly, as the frost shot forth from his fingertips, Richie had become paralyzed for just a moment, no longer the one in control of his body as the thrill concentrated, turning suddenly much too hot, so hot Richie needed it out—

And out it had come, in a line of lightning that burst from his chest. It was so bright it nearly blinded him, and the sound of it was almost as bad as the sounds of the trees it had hit creaking and popping.

Richie’s face burned when it was over, movement returning to his limbs in the form of violent tremors. Where the power had built inside of him before, he had felt after it sickeningly empty. Like he always did when he was terrified, he had looked to Bill. Only, Bill had worn the same expression, and it was directed at Richie. 

After the initial shock, Bill of course grabbed Richie by the arm and made him run alongside him, keeping him safe as the trees began to fall. But Richie would never forget the tightness in his grip, the sweat on his palm. He would never forget the crashing of the trees behind them so close behind them. All of that horror, with him forever, yet the worst of it all was that look of horror on Bill’s face. Bill, Big Bill, endlessly brave and stubborn and headstrong, had looked at Richie like he was the scariest thing he had ever seen.

He thought he sometimes still caught glimpses of that look in Bill’s eyes even now, when Richie got angry, or if a combat came on suddenly.

The lightning was only the first time the power had been released, but Richie had made sure that it was the last time he ever released it around another person.

That was, at least, until today.

Richie couldn’t handle Eddie looking at him like that. He couldn’t handle explaining himself to Eddie. And he couldn’t forgive himself for risking something so unpredictable around Eddie. If he had hurt him…

No. He was way too chickenshit to face this.

And Eddie, apparently, could tell.

“—don’t you dare—”

“I’m sorry, Eds,” Richie said, his voice weak and gravelly. He cast invisibility on himself through his lute, clinging to it like it could somehow stop the turmoil inside of him. Eddie lunged forward for him, but Richie just managed to side step him.

“Richie, you shit—” Eddie grumbled, throwing his hands out. But Richie teleported away. Eddie was safer at the library anyway.

He made it back to the apartment he shared with Bev in one piece, reluctantly making himself visible again before entering.

He didn’t end up leaving the apartment much for the next few days, skipping out on group events. He went out a little with Bev and Stan, but he avoided the library and any other places Eddie might be.

This behavior, of course, did not slip by without comment.

“What happened?” Bev had asked plainly the next morning. “You went to bed at a responsible hour last night. Something’s gotta be wrong.”

“I’m getting my life together,” Richie had said, then ran through a handful of other bluffs until Bev gave up, huffing in frustration.

Stan had gotten a little further, as he had updates about the world outside of Richie’s bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. Updates about Eddie, also put fairly plainly. “Why are you avoiding Eddie?” he’d asked. “He asked me to go to the stables with him. He always takes you to the stables, and when I brought it up he said to ask you why you weren’t going with him.”

“Maybe I’ve got a cold.” 

“I’m not gonna be happy if you’re hanging out with me while you’re sick.”

“Okay, I’m not sick.”

Stan didn’t press; just went back to his books.

“You’re not gonna ask me any more questions?” Richie asked.

“I’m not the one you need to be talking to about this,” Stan answered. “Besides, I know you and Eddie can’t stay away from each other for longer than a week. One of you is gonna break in a few days.”

Richie turned bright red at the implications of that and saved himself the analysis of his habits, personality, and desires by finding something else to occupy himself with.

It was Bill who ultimately got through to him. In retrospect, Richie figured it had to be.

“Rich, Eddie’s really upset that you keep blowing him off,” Bill told him. They were hanging out in the temple to Maturin, which helped calm Richie’s nerves. It wasn’t really a temple—more a community organized space, not much more than the hideout they’d made together as kids, only this one was open to people other than just their inner circle. Still, it was empty now, save for the two of them. He wasn’t the most devout person in the world, but all seven of them had felt the protection of Maturin in undeniable ways, and not just through Bill and Mike. Being here brought him a sort of peace—or, at least more peace than a person who has unpredictable magic boiling up inside of them at any given point tends to feel.

“I don’t think that’s what he’s upset about,” Richie finally said. It was the first time he’d budged on the topic since it happened. He blamed the turtle. Or maybe Bill had a zone of truth on him.

No, Bill wouldn’t do that. Not unless he really needed to anyway. Besides, Richie was too good at dancing around the truth without lying, so it wouldn’t have been that effective anyway.

He was letting Bill in because Bill was already in, and he was the only one. He was letting him in because it was Bill. 

“It’s what he told me he was upset about,” Bill said. “He didn’t mention anything else.”

Something stirred inside Richie as he pictured Eddie grumbling to Bill about him. As nice as it was to think that Eddie had just been pouting about wanting to see Richie, he knew that wasn’t what had happened. Maybe it was what Eddie was telling people. Maybe Eddie was covering for Richie—no one had come knocking Richie’s door down or acting scared around him, so he assumed Eddie was keeping what he’d seen to himself. But surely he was upset about it. It was probably only getting worse; Richie was isolating Eddie, making him keep secrets. He was probably terrified but felt too bad to say anything about it. Eddie probably resented him, and with good reason. God, it made Richie sick to think about it.

“Rich,” Bill said, placing a gentle hand on Richie’s shoulder, “what happened?”

For the first time in days, Richie let the act drop. He stopped acting aloof. He let his eyebrows draw together as he looked up at Bill through his glasses. He relaxed all the muscles he’d been tensing in his relentless pursuit of a casual disposition. He finally let himself toy with the bracelets on his wrists like he’d been aching to do, pulled his lower lip between his teeth. The anxiety rolled around in his chest like a landslide with nowhere to go but back in a circle, building.

“It happened,” he said, a small quiver in his voice, “around Eddie. Bowers and those assholes, they were trying to start shit in the woods, and it was just Eddie and me, and I got scared and I panicked and—” Richie stopped abruptly, unsure if he wanted to share the details of the fucking dragon’s breath that had burst forth from Richie. “That’s what he’s upset about.”

Bill gave him an understanding look. Richie waited for the anger. He waited for the lecture about safety. What came instead was a smile that almost looked… amused?

His bewilderment must have shown, because Bill was quick to walk it back. “Sorry, sorry I don’t think it’s funny that that happened! That sounds really scary, and I’m sorry it happened. And we should definitely plan better as a group for Bowers encounters. Although it kinda seems like you scared the shit out of them… I saw Vic the other day and he basically ran away from me. So whatever happened ended up being pretty sick.” 

Richie allowed himself a small glow of pride that the gamble had at least succeeded in protecting his friends a little bit.

“Still, though, I know that’s always scary for you when it happens. Why didn’t you tell me? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, I just…” Richie scrunched his face up to mitigate the sudden urge he felt to cry. “I really didn’t want anyone to know. Eddie… I can’t look at him and know he’s afraid of me.”

This time Bill fully laughed. Richie whipped his head around, ready to smack Bill across the back of his head.

“Dude, I’m serious—”

“Shit, okay, I’m sorry, I know, it’s just… You’re gonna have to work a little harder to make Eddie afraid of you, Richie. He’d kick your ass if he heard you say that you thought you could scare him.”

“He should be scared!” Richie raised his voice in indignation. “We should all be scared!”

“You’re scared,” Bill said, rubbing Richie’s shoulder. “And it’s understandable. But you should let us help. You should let Eddie help.” His expression softened. “He’s worried about you. You know he wants to help. He wants to know why you’re avoiding him, and I bet he wants to know what happened. He won’t be mad; he’ll know you were just trying to protect him.”

Richie considered that quietly.

Bill gave him one last soft bit of encouragement. “Go talk to him.”

Richie almost went home after that. But he played Bill’s words over and over in his head, telling him that he couldn’t scare Eddie, that Eddie was worried about him. It was messed up. He didn’t deserve Eddie’s worry. Eddie at least deserved to hear that. And he deserved an explanation, Richie supposed. 

Stan’s words also echoed in his mind, reminding him that he wasn’t fooling anyway acting like he could stay away from Eddie. His cheeks flushed from learning how obvious it was, but it wasn’t like he could deny it; the days away from him had been torture. He missed Eddie like a plant misses water. He missed his laugh, and his rants, and how he’d shove Richie with his shoulder but then stay close to him. He missed his smile, and his voice. He missed his snarky retorts and his dreamy contemplations and the way his freckled nose scrunched up when Richie poked and squeezed and teased him. He missed the feeling of being around him: a giddy thrill that drowned out all the rest of the noise that was constantly buzzing inside Richie and a peace not even Maturin could muster. 

It didn’t take long to find him; Richie didn’t find him on his favorite hill, the grassy one with the little white and yellow flowers, the one that overlooked the main road that headed into town, so he figured Eddie must be in the library.

Mike beamed at Richie from the front desk when he walked in. “Hey, Rich! Been a few days.” Coming from someone else, Richie may have taken that as a dig. But the only thing that hinted at any feeling other than the joy Mike projected was a tinge of sadness in his eyes. Richie gave him a guilty smile, and he could tell that it was enough. “You got a book you’re looking for?” Mike asked. 

Usually Richie would just make some joke about books with pictures (or, occasionally, actually check out a book on political theory—always a toss up), but this time he paused, unsure how to explain what he was actually there for.

Luckily, Mike excelled in both intuition and knowing what was going on in the town at any given point, especially with his friends. So he gave Richie a grin and said, “I’m fucking with you. He’s upstairs in the archives with Ben.”

Richie turned bright red. He could try to deny it, but what would be the point?

“Right, thanks,” he said. He started for the stairs, then paused and leaned dramatically backwards to look at Mike. “You’ll at least say that I asked, right? You won’t just tell people it was obvious?”

Mike laughed and shook his head. “Richie, it’s been obvious for over a decade now.”

Having heard enough of that, Richie carried on his way.

He felt his heart pounding again, getting louder with every step he took toward the archives. 

It was quiet when he got there, which wasn’t unusual for Ben, nor Eddie when he was with Ben, but it was eerie all the same. Though as Richie got closer, he realized it wasn’t quite silent—Eddie and Ben seemed to be speaking in hushed whispers Richie couldn’t quite make out. Whispers which stopped abruptly once Richie came into view. 

Richie was positive his heart actually stopped for a second, seeing Eddie again. It had only been a few days, but it felt like an eternity. Eddie looked like a deer in headlights for a moment, which made Richie’s stomach drop, but he quickly schooled his expression into something closer to a scowl. Which was at least better than fear, Richie supposed. 

“Hi, Richie,” Ben said, smiling at Richie with all the subtlety of a dog who’s just eaten something it definitely shouldn’t have. Richie didn’t have to cast detect thoughts to figure they’d probably just been whispering about him. Not that he could blame them.

“Hey, Benny boy, good to see ya.” Richie grinned, covering any quiver in his voice with a false bravado. “Nothing personal, but you mind if I kick you out for a second? Gotta talk to Eds real quick.” Richie flitted his eyes toward Eddie, who was looking pointedly down at the book that laid open in front of him. “That is, if he’ll allow it.” Eddie raised his gaze to Richie’s, shrugged, and went back to reading. I’ll take it, Richie thought. At least nothing had been thrown or cast at him. 

Ben made a face that was somewhere between a grimace and a smile. “Sure thing, Richie.” He put his book back and slid out of the room. “See you guys around!”

“Like a wheel,” Richie grinned over his shoulder.

And then it was just Richie and Eddie again. Like it was so often. Like it had been right before Richie had gone and fucked it all up.

This wasn’t the first time Eddie had been angry with Richie—you didn’t get through almost two decades of friendship without a spat here and there. But this was different. Eddie had seen Richie in a way Richie had hoped he never would. And he wasn’t even looking at him.

“Watcha readin’?” Richie asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and moseying over to the other side of the table to peek across at what Eddie was reading while still keeping a respectable distance.

“Nothing,” Eddie said. “Just about the history of the town.”

Richie could see that this was technically true—that was the book that Eddie had open. But there were various other folders and tomes and notebooks beneath that one that really piqued Richie’s interest. 

“Since when do you care about the history of Derry?” Richie asked. “Mike and Ben putting you to work now? You getting good wages?”

Eddie just glared at him. 

Richie felt like he’d been hit with a hold person spell.

And yet—he kept going, because his courage was waning significantly now that he was realizing he’d have to actually address what had happened.

“I bet you’re hiding something under there,” he teased. He’d said it lightly, but he wasn’t really joking, and his methods proved effective when Eddie looked up at him with a look of guilt clear on his face. “Edward Kaspbrak!” Richie gasped. “Do you have porn under there?” 

He pushed the book aside while Eddie was slightly off guard.

“Richie, stop—”

Eddie shoved the book back in place, but Richie had glanced enough of the papers he’d uncovered. His breath caught in his throat.

A lot of words jumped out at him.

“Casting without components…”

“Dragon’s breath…”

“Sudden new powers…”

Wild Magic.

Richie felt it again. The panic. The buzzing. The itch he couldn’t scratch that clawed up his throat.

He staggered back. 

“Richie,” Eddie said, his voice much softer this time. Richie clenched his hands into fists, as if he could hold back whatever might spring forth from them. He knew logically that there was no risk as long as he didn’t cast anything, as long as he kept to his bard spells, but he could feel the power swirling in him, coiling like a snake, even when he had no desire to tap into it.

He hadn’t realized that Eddie had stood and come closer until he felt Eddie’s hand on his arm. He nearly jumped.

“Richie,” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” Richie cut him off quickly. He brought his hand to Eddie’s side, then quickly pulled it away. “Shit, Eddie, I came here to apologize to you, please don’t say you’re sorry.”

Eddie shifted then, ambivalence written in every move of his muscles and dilation of his pupils. He kept his hands to himself, but he didn’t move away.

Richie took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Eds,” he said. His voice shook, all too loud in such a silent room. “That was so fucked up of me. We could’ve gotten out of there without that, I never should’ve put you in danger like that. I had no idea what would happen, and I knew fucking anything could’ve happened. I just… I panicked, and I needed to get us out of there. But it was still horrible of me, and I understand if you don’t…” Richie forced himself to speak through the rapids surging in his chest. “If you don’t feel safe around me anymore. I thought I could protect you from it, but that was selfish too, because I should’ve known I would never be able to keep that up forever. So yeah, I just… just wanted to say sorry for putting you through that. That’s all I came here for.”

Eddie was silent for longer than Richie could handle without looking to see what was happening. He looked… confused. And pissed again. 

“You think that’s what I’m mad about?” 

Shit. How had he managed to make things worse?

“What else?” Richie asked.

Eddie punched him on the shoulder. Richie let out a little wince. “I’m not fucking afraid of you, Richie!” he exclaimed. “I’m pissed because you ditched me! I’m pissed because you were clearly really fucking freaked out about what happened and then you wouldn’t even talk to me about it! I’ve been worried sick about you but you fucking turned invisible and teleported away before I could even get the chance to talk to you and comfort you about it! I’m pissed because you’d rather cut me off than let me help you!”

Richie thought that scaring Eddie was the worst possible outcome.

He hadn’t realized that making Eddie sad was a possibility in this scenario. And god, it was so much worse than any response of fear or anger would’ve been. Eddie was biting his lip, trying to maintain his scowl while his eyes became watery. He crossed his arms, and Richie’s heart sank. He wanted to pull Eddie into his arms, to make all his pain go away, but wouldn’t that just be the most selfish thing he could possibly do? Pull Eddie closer?

And the worst part was that Richie didn’t see a way to be honest with Eddie and not make things worse.

“Eds,” Richie said through a hitched breath, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I appreciate that, but this isn’t something anyone can fix.” 

“You don’t need to be fixed, Richie,” Eddie sighed, exasperated. “I don’t want you to change. I just want you to let me in. And I was mad that you didn’t let me in, that you kept it from me, and I realize now that that’s not exactly fair and that you telling me should’ve been on your terms, but I just… I was so worried about you, Rich.”

Richie felt a stinging pressure behind his eyes. “I don’t want you to have to worry about me.”

Eddie almost seemed to seethe at that. “Richie. You fucking numbskull. Don’t you worry about me? Don’t you want me to be safe?”

What the fuck kind of question was that? “Of course I do—well, I mean, you know, not that you can’t handle yourself, but of course I want you to be safe.”

Eddie stepped closer, narrowing his eyes at Richie. “Then why shouldn’t I worry about you? Why shouldn’t I want to keep you safe?”

“What if I’m not safe to be around?”

“I think I can handle it,” Eddie snorted. 

“But I can’t predict it—”

“We’ll figure it out together. It’s okay.”

“No, Eddie! It’s not okay!” Richie threw his hands up in the air, running them through his hair. “You say you don’t want me to change but I keep changing all the time in ways I don’t understand! What am I supposed to do with that? What are you supposed to do with that?”

“I just wanna be there for you!” Richie hadn’t realized his voice had been getting louder until he heard how loud Eddie said that. “I don’t know what to do with it or if there even is anything that needs to be done, but I wanna be there with you when it happens because you shouldn’t have to handle scary shit happening to you on your own!”

“But it’s my problem, why should you have to figure it out?”

“Because I love you, you idiot!”

That shut Richie up. Sure, he knew Eddie loved him, the way he knew all of his friends loved him. But that… Was he imagining it? He didn’t think that sounded so platonic.

Eddie softened, and some air came back into the room. “I love you,” he said again. “I wanna be with you. All the time. I wanna know when you’re struggling with something and I wanna help you with it. I wanna take care of you, I want… I want you. I miss you.” 

Richie’s breath hitched again, and he started to crumble. “I miss you so fucking much Eddie—”

Eddie grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him down. Richie needed to lean so far down to meet him he almost fell over, but he caught himself, and Eddie lifted up on his toes to meet him halfway, and then their lips were pressed together, and Eddie’s lips were so soft, despite the force behind them. It took a moment for Richie to realize he could kiss Eddie back, but when he did, he was like a man starved. 

Quickly growing frustrated with the lack of leverage his position afforded him, however, Richie lifted Eddie by his waist and sat him on the table, stepping between his legs. He cupped Eddie’s face in his hands and slotted their lips together more neatly, forcing himself to slow down and really appreciate what was happening, to process it. Eddie’s hands slid over Richie’s shoulders and up into his curls, holding on tight. “Eddie,” Richie breathed against his mouth, “Eds, I love you so much.” 

Eddie pulled away to catch his breath and pressed his forehead to Richie’s. “Don’t call me Eds,” he panted, but he was smiling.

“Mhm, sure, definitely won’t,” Richie grinned, then kissed him again. “Whatever you say, Eds.” He kept kissing him and kept talking, the words murmured against Eddie’s lips. “And I won’t pick you up again either. I can tell from that little squeak you made that you really didn’t like it.”

Eddie slapped him playfully on the shoulder, but he didn’t argue.

They traded a few more kisses before Richie pulled back, his body thrumming with adrenaline—it was still a little scary, but overwhelmingly it was good. He let himself really look at Eddie, at his pretty brown eyes and kiss swollen lips. He’d probably spend forever convincing himself this was real.

“You really aren’t scared?”

Eddie scoffed. “You wish you could scare me.” He kissed Richie deeply and ran his fingers through hair, grazing his thumbs gently over Richie’s horns in a way that had Richie shivering. “Honestly,” Eddie said, his voice low, “it was kind of hot.”

Richie groaned, his brain fizzling out for a second. “Okay, well, I’m not really sure I can do it again, but I’ll keep that in mind. But you should probably cool it on talking to me like that until we’re in a bed or something because I don’t think Mike would appreciate me getting jizz all over his pristinely maintained archives—”

“Richie!” Eddie screeched, kicking his thigh lightly. But he was cackling, and Richie kissed the dimples in his cheeks and nuzzled his face into Eddie’s neck, where he would’ve been happy to stay forever, with Eddie shaking from laughter in his arms.

“I love you,” Richie repeated against his skin. He couldn’t believe it was all out there—all of it, every single thing Richie had sworn to keep to himself for the rest of his life was sitting in Eddie’s lap, and Eddie loved him. “I love you,” he said again, “I love you so much.”

[thiefbird]

Well my sleep schedule is fucked(nearly an hour past Bedtime and I'm vibrating) but don't cry. 21 pages of Stephen Maturin trying to convince himself he's not in love with his captain, alright?

[bam-monsterhospital]

how do you say 'asmodeus'?

me, having grown up with the redwall cartoon:

ah yes "az-mow-DAY-us". emphasis on the 'day' part.

apparently everyone else:

"az-MOWWWW-deeee-is".

WAT

[777heavengirl]

voulez-vous

remus lupin x reader one-shot ! warnings: none (?) word count: 4,083 masterlist

        It was hard to look at him sometimes. To be fair it was also incredibly hard not to look at him. Remus and his sandy brown hair, the way he always shot you a sweet smile and even sweeter words. You could never tell if he just said them to get a rise out of you, but you hoped they were sincere nonetheless. The thin scars that crossed his face, his body. You would like to trace them with your fingers if he laid his head on your lap. 

It was more difficult to tear your face from his face than it was to brew polyjuice potion. He wasn't as attention-seeking as his friends. He was soft and mild-mannered, but you knew he was secretly just as destructive, snappy, and naughty as the rest of the Marauders. He teased you often, the words rolling off his tongue sweetly but they always poked at you. But his presence always caught your attention. It was like an unspoken competition of who would give in first. It was a competition with grades and ability and who could get a rise out of the other. 

His careful doll's and cheeky smiles during defense against the dark arts as you walked up to duel never failed to make your belly flutter. The professor always loved to see your duels, pairing you often. Finding entertainment in the give and take between the two of you. There was no malice, unlike when he paired Sirius or James with some Slytherin he had overheard them shit-talking. Professor Abbott loved dramatics. Or the ridicule that came with pairing Lily against poor James who'd freeze at the thought of directing a single spell towards her. Lily always won those. 

This was different, the way that Remus and you looked at each other. Calculated yet with affection. You could push each other's buttons better than anyone else, predicting each other's curses before they left the other's mouth. Your skin felt warm as you stood on the dueling platform, almost as if a fire was crawling its way up your body. Bloody hell. 

Remus had a small smirk on his face as if repressing a smile, the bastard. It wasn't easy for you to duel against him, it took a lot out of you. He was smart as a whip and fast in his wand movements. Enchantments and curses pouring from his lips were second nature. All the Latin reading had paid off. It wasn't as if you were bad, you had beaten James who was absolutely brilliant more times than you could count, it was safe to say you were a fair contender. But dueling Remus always made you uneasy.

His eyes always caught yours in a competition of 'who's looking away first', with a twinkle in his eye like he knew something you didn't. Like he could read your thoughts. 

"Go!" had hardly left Abbott's mouth as you shot a spell at Remus, three in succession to be precise. The dashes of bright blue and green deflected easily. So the pull and push started. It was great practice really. The war had started reverberating through your lives inside and outside of Hogwarts, people were going missing, and the gloom of the impending fights that would soon follow all of you was tearing apart any semblance of normalcy. The whispers in the halls never seemed to seize and relations tensed as you never knew what people believed in. So yes this was good practice, His followers wouldn't wait for you to gather the confidence or finesse to say a certain incantation. You just had to do it. 

"They really are brilliant aren't they," Lily muttered to Alice, as they watched in awe as the two of you shot against one another. Professor Abbott released a quick chuckle at her comment, fascinated as well. Both of your movements were nothing short of rapid, almost wordless spells falling from your panting lips at this point. Neither had managed to knock down or disarm the other and the two of you were growing increasingly tired. You knew you wouldn't hold on for much longer. It was difficult to keep this up, especially because neither of you wanted to use something truly harmful. You cared too much. Maybe that was the lesson behind this you thought. 

You went faster, and faster, the only thing you could focus on was his eyes. His hazel irises slowly widened as the speed of your spells overwhelmed him ever so slightly. It was exhausting, desperation crawling at your clammy skin. Your wand movements were precise, yet frantic. 

"They might as well be shagging right now Evans" Lily slapped Sirius' shoulder, his whisper had been low enough to go unnoticed by most but not by James who let out a snort next to him. Sirius and James stood behind the two girls, their heads popping in between the two girls as they leaned forward ever so slightly, as they continued to tease and snicker about the tension between you and their Moony. 

"You don't have to be such a pig Sirius," 

It wasn't long before both of the girls had joined their giggles. It was obvious, to everyone but you and Remus, that there was an underlying infatuation between the two of you. The way your eyes were always trained on each other, even when you weren't dueling, even when you weren't looking at each other's eyes. The way his gaze trailed after you, and your heart-aching habit of studying his movements. Two leaves dancing around each other in the wind. 

Their giggles were interrupted as your voice raised, finally disarming the brown-haired boy. Your chests heaving up and down, sweat covering your foreheads. A wide grin overtook Remus's lovely features, as he squatted down in exhaustion, his arms wrapping slightly around his knees keeping him balanced. You broke out in bubbling laughter as your classmates cheered. It had been exciting, Remus couldn't help but laugh as well, your joy was nothing short of contagious.

He would lose a thousand times more if it meant he'd get to see this much joy pour from your face.

- 

Remus knew you knew he was looking at you. You knew he knew as well.

Sirius was seriously over his head, the alcohol in his system was probably borderline poisonous and James wasn't doing any better as they both screamed the lyrics to the muggle vinyl someone had popped on. The two marauders didn't take winning a quidditch match lightly, neither did the rest of the house. Too much pent-up energy, the stress, the joy, the anxiousness of everything that wrapped its hands around most young wizards' necks these days. It needed somewhere to go. 

Nothing young people did best besides cope adequately. With alcohol.

The match had been intense, Ravenclaw wasn't exactly an easy opponent anymore, not when the incredibly competitive new sixth-year captain had taken hold of the team. James couldn't stand her, Sirius swore he'd get a date by the end of the season. As always you had sat next to Lily who as much as she denied it, had taken a liking to James finally and never missed a match anymore. Remus sat on your other side, his knuckles grazing yours for more than half of the game, usually pushing them as he leaned towards your ear to tell you about the current strategy Gryffindor was employing. Goosebumps plagued your skin the whole game. 

Your own cup swirled with the mysterious light green liquid some seventh-years had concocted. One of said boys had been whispering in your ear half the party. It wasn't anything crazy, no declarations of love left his lips but he was funny enough and handsome enough, and the alcohol was definitely hugging your insides like a warm blanket. So you giggled and laughed at the half-baked jokes that came from his lips. He wasn't half as witty as the scarred boy that made your heart clench, but the alcohol pushed that thought to the back of your mind.

His attempts to woo you didn't exactly go unnoticed and drunk or not Sirius had no filter and was concerningly comfortable with his friends. "If you don't go get her soon, I do believe our dear Y/N will be IN bed," Sirius enunciated the last words painfully slow and loud, "with Mr. Bones over there, by the end of the night" he lightly giggled at the idea, although Sirius didn't like it much either. He thought Cassius Bones was a brat.

Ironic, but not wrong.

Remus felt a frown twisting his features. Sirius brazen nature didn't help but he had been trying to gather the guts to drag you away from the prat all night. The way his hands fiddled with a piece of your hair that rested on your shoulder, his smile widening as you said something back to him. Your eyes were glazed over and your movements were a bit sloppy and loose. You were always the rigid type, not in a bad way but in the sense that you were a little anxious, enough that Lily had been muttering to relax your shoulders your entire Hogwarts career. Your muscles naturally tensed, your body forever trying to catch up to your brain. Your brain forever trying to work out every problem in the world at once. Tonight that girl was gone, your posture slouched onto the wall, he could tell you had a lazy smile grazing your features and if you had been sober you would've cursed Cassius Bones across the room the second he approached.

Remus thinks about how he would've liked to see your satisfied smile after doing so. He also thinks about how you so deserved to let loose.

His stomach turned while he watched you talk to Bones. Your bodies closer than they had been an hour ago, he could see his face directly, his eyes flying to your lips and Remus knew that it wouldn't be long before the brat tried to make a proper move. His other hand was already playing with the loop of your formfitting jeans. He felt a light touch on his arm and turned, finding a certain redhead giving him a soft smile.

"She would leave the entire world behind for you Remus," he couldn't help but let out a sigh. She nodded and slightly pushed him in your direction, letting James whisk her away to dance shortly after. 

You honestly weren't focused on Cassius or his words, his cologne was a tad too overwhelming, and although he had an award-winning smile, it felt insincere. It felt like he was going to eat you alive any second. But you were too sluggish to move, your eyes glanced around hoping to catch someone's gaze, anyone who could come help you. James eventually glanced your way, as he spun Lily around the room, but all he did was shoot you an overexaggerated wink before he disappeared into the crowd. You wondered if Cassius ever shut up, he babbled on and on about what his father thought of the war, about some Hufflepuff he went out with who "by the way was so under my league, figures why it didn't work out"

His words were sobering you up, they were boring and made your head spin and anxiety spark. Nothing more alcohol couldn't fix, you thought as you downed the rest of your drink. He laughed as you scrunched your face, it was a nice hearty laugh, the type you hear from across the room and roll your eyes at. You pondered briefly if that's what other people thought of your friends. It was a shame that he was sort of handsome though, the second he opened his mouth it was kind of ruined. He must've misunderstood the glaze over your eyes and the far-away stare as some sort of signal to kiss you because one second he was talking and the next he was closing in, his hand on the back of your head. 

"Y/N," you felt a strong hand on your shoulder, turn and pull you away, just out of Bones's grasp. A sigh of relief escaped as you heard Remus's voice. Thank Godric. "we gotta go, remember?" 

You had not a single clue or inkling as to what he was talking about, but you could see the scowl that formed over Cassius's face, and took this interruption as a blessing. 

"Oi, Lupin I was talking to her, you don't get to monopolize her time you lost your chance," His words were too loud and too aggressive for this time of night, and you honestly couldn't care less. You wonder what Bones meant by that. Lost your chance. But something in his words snapped you briefly from the alcohol-fueled haze you were in, turning to sneer at him.

"He can monopolize my time all he wants Bones, there's a reason you only get to talk to me when I'm drunk," 

"Whatever, look for me when he inevitably leaves you alone" This seemed to strike a chord with Remus as he pulled you closer, his arm already over your shoulders. You mumbled a 'forget about it' as you pushed for the two of you to move away. You couldn't tell if it was the two refills the twat had served you or the fact that you were so close to Remus but suddenly the room felt unbearably hot. You couldn't help but notice the way he rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up, his skin touching yours as he pulled you even closer, trying to make his way onto a corner where maybe you could hear yourself think. His scent encompassed you and you couldn't help but smile at it. His cologne was on the fresh side, it was a welcome change from the toxic fumes that seemed to emanate from Cassius. Remus smelled like amber and vetiver, sweet and fresh, a light woody scent underlying the whole of it. You hadn't truly looked at him tonight. 

His normally very well-groomed hair was a bit out of place, sweat from the room making it stick to his forehead ever so slightly. It was messy and shaggy, it was obvious he had been fidgeting with it, combing it with his fingers. You wondered when it had grown so long. You'd think you'd notice. He was barely biting his bottom lip as he pushed through the crowd and the dark array of lights seemed to paint his worried features blue, yellow, and red. He glanced at you and nodded towards the door of the common room and you nodded. Maybe you'd be able to think clearly if you breathed cool air and stopped swaying along with the mass of underage drinkers. 

He guided you with his warm, calloused hand through the passage. Air rushing in your lungs and your face as you exited. A smile immediately spread across your lips, quickly spreading to Remus's face as well. You started walking slowly, your hand still in his. You didn't want to let go, you hoped he didn't either. 

"I'm sorry I pulled you away so abruptly," He pressed his lips at the thought, he desperately hoped that you hadn't wanted Bones to kiss you. He thinks you would've said something by now. You would've stayed, you wouldn't have told him off. He dropped the thought there.

"It's okay Moons, I was looking for a way out anyway," You swung your linked arms, a bit too fast but you simply blamed the alcohol. Not the nervous pit that had formed at the bottom of your tummy. It was hard not to get nervous, you suddenly couldn't look at him again. You feared the color in your cheeks would give you away, maybe the way your pupils would blow if you looked at him. He was observant like that. The two of you had been toying with the line of friendship or more for ages, light touches and whispers, flirty jokes that didn't seem very funny while you looked up at the ceiling of your four-poster bed at two in the morning. Alice was often awake too. No doubt thinking about Frank Longbottom. It was obvious they'd end up together. 

"Hey," Your gaze diverted back to him, as you stopped walking, all fear gone with the wind. You had reached the section of the hall with windows, the soft light of the moon reflecting off of your faces. He stared straight at you, your hands still dangling between the two of you. You couldn't help but wonder how many days 'til the full moon. He didn't seem to be thinking about that.

"You were brilliant in defense against the dark arts today,"

You couldn't help but laugh, cheeks shaded red. You knew your victory had been one born out of desperation to be finished. But it was a victory nonetheless. 

"No I'm serious, you were wicked good" He had taken a step closer, his voice lowering to barely above a whisper,

"You flatter me too much Remus," He poked a finger at your cheek

"Yeah, I should stop," His lips curved into a smirk "We wouldn't want that going to your pretty head, now would we" His nimble fingers brushed a stray hair out of your face. Your lips couldn't help but twitch. Maybe this was it. 

"If it is any consolation, I still think you're better than me" You shrugged slightly, your tone of voice as low as his, "It was just dumb luck," 

He shook his head at this. Remus genuinely thought you were radiant and clever. Your skills were fine-tuned and you worked like a well-oiled machine. He had never seen anything like it, he often felt as if he struggled to catch up. 

"You can't be serious doll," the saccharine nickname fell off his lips too naturally. You wondered when he had become this smooth and confident in his words. That was definitely the Marauder's doing. You wondered if he called anyone else that. You had only ever heard him call his friends darling or honey under sarcastic pretenses. James and Sirius always retorted with a similar quip. Peter always looked like he had been caught red-handed. 

Remus wasn't the type to parade women around like Sirius was, as far as you knew he had only had a small fling some months ago with a Ravenclaw a year below you. A couple of dates, nothing more, the boys had joked Remus just couldn't attach himself to only one girl. The roll of his eyes had told you it wasn't the case. You wondered if he had ever called her anything.

"Why that face hm? Where'd you go?" he poked again at your cheek, a small smile blooming from your lips. "is it because I called you doll?" 

Bastard.

You felt as if you'd have to look into occlumency lessons.

"You only ever make that face when I call you some nickname," his brows furrowed ever so slightly in worry. "Do you not like it?" his words came out a mere whisper, but as the halls were more than empty and the common room had been left a good thirty feet down the hall, you caught it. 

"It's not that," you huffed a bit, the frustration of this dance the two of you had been doing biting at your heels. One of you would just have to force the cat out of the bag. 

"Then what is it love?" His knuckles traced the shape of your cheek. You wondered if the chill down your spine was from his ministrations or the gush of wind that had passed through the window. 

"Why'd you come to my rescue?" You could see the wheels turning behind his hazel eyes. He wondered if he should come up with some excuse. I noticed you looked uncomfortable, James told me, Bones is a man whore, Truth was,

"I got jealous," you were taken by surprise, you feel like he also didn't expect it to come out of his mouth. He wouldn't meet your eyes, deciding a spot on the wall behind you was much more interesting. 

"Oh,"

"Yeah, oh" He sounded disappointed, maybe he had misread your actions, his hold on your hand started loosening but you gripped it tighter. His eyes flickered back to you at this motion. He always thought you were quite lovely. It was hard to not look at you. The darker hue of your lips, even when they were bare of any products made him want to eat you up in kisses even in the middle of classes. The way your eyes crinkled in the corners when you laughed really hard. He pictured your reddening features when it snowed last January, the cold biting at your cheeks. He had held your hands for the first time that winter, warming them up. Like a good friend does of course. He hoped it would get cold quickly.

Your mind raced, body tingling under his gaze. Goosebumps spread over every inch of skin.

You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the adrenaline of finally hearing a small glimpse of his feelings for you. But you pulled the collar of his shirt softly, lowering his towering figure closer to you. The material of his shirt was soft and pliable under your fingers, you could feel the cold spots where it had once been damp. You prayed he'd close the gap.

And that he did. 

Months of dancing around each other, everything you’d ever wanted to say to him, every glance, every touch, every unspoken word was fighting to come out of you. Remus tasted the apple-like concoction that you had been sipping on your lips. You could feel the slight traces of firewhiskey on his. He kissed you the way you had daydreamed. His hands clutching your waist, pulling you close to him. Your hands traveling up to bury your fingers in his hair at the back of his neck. 

It was sweet and a little sloppy, and although neither of you was as drunk as the majority of your house your movements were still marked by a sort of looseness only alcohol can drag out. Your balance was nothing short of wobbly as you stood on your tip-toes to kiss him. His tongue slightly touched your bottom lip and you obliged, deepening the kiss. You wouldn't trade it for the world.

You sighed as you split up, burying your face in his chest. You could feel how a laugh reverberated from deep within his chest. Yet you couldn't form any words, an enormous smile blooming from your lips.

Whoops and hollers echoed throughout the hall. You slightly parted to look as James and Sirius wobbled through the hall, poor Peter in the middle trying to keep the two rowdy men upright. It was comical, the way the shorter boy tried steering the other two, uncontrollable as they already were. Both you and Remus couldn't help but hush them, indignation from being interrupted and the increased probability of getting caught irritating the both of you. 

“Thank Godric, I didn’t think I would stand this whole mating dance the two of you were doing any longer,” Peter breathed out as they caught up, swiftly dropping Sirius and James. The other two agreed with him with screams and congratulatory laughter from the floor. They didn't seem to mind their newfound position. 

A harsh shush fell from your lips once again as their voices echoed, not wanting to get caught. Remus couldn’t help but chuckle with a squeeze to your sides. He turned towards you a smile gracing his features and you couldn’t help but mirror it, squeezing his arm back. You finally felt light, the joy of your friends, even if they were idiots, the delight of the boy you have so adored having you in his arms.

Nothing could beat this.

[medicinemane]

Oh hey, fairylights mod updated to 1.19 back in november... neat

Now I just need to figure out the biome thingy and technically I can work on this project whenever. Maybe next year I'll have a nice village to wander around in

[fairyysoup]

the devil i know

chapter one: god you've got the blackest eyes

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: To summon a demon at a crossroads, simply cast a circle, make an offering, and recite an incantation. What happens from that point on is subject to your desire… and the demon’s.

cw: explicit, smut, dubcon elements, making a deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, coercion (a bit), sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, tfw your accidental boyfriend is a demon who is obsessed with you bc he doesn’t know how to be normal about anything ever, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

a/n: Hi folks, for the month of October this year I'm going to be reuploading all the chapters of this fic onto tumblr, this time hopefully for good. I apologize for the time that it's been taken down. Genuinely, this fic has garnered so much kindness and support and I think of it as one of my biggest accomplishments. I hope you all enjoy it just as much the second time around as the first.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Through me you pass into the city of woe, Through me you pass into eternal pain, Through me you pass among forsaken people. Justice moved my exalted creator; I was wrought by divine power, Supreme wisdom, and primal love. Before me all things created were eternal, And eternal I endure. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. -Dante Alighieri, The Inferno, Canto III

The book you’ve used for ages now, since late in your junior year of high school, has only one page in it that you haven’t utilized. You don’t know how much faith to put in it– you’re a little short on faith, these days– but, the spellbook lays it out simply, so you follow its directions to the letter. 

To summon a demon at a crossroads, go to a place where two paths meet on the dark moon. You find peace and quiet in the woods, deep where you know no one walks at night but two paths cross in a small clearing banked with trees. It’s your favorite place to go when you want to do a spell– ritual– and you don’t want to be bothered. The whole thing can’t be more than twenty feet across. Above the overhang of trees, there’s no moon in the sky, only stars.

Cast a circle of protection. That took more research than just the book in your hands, but years of collecting information have given you learned knowledge– there are a million ways to cast a circle, and different circles for different purposes. You do your best to create one for protection. You draw a literal circle in the dirt with a stick, fill it with salt, and walk around the circle three times clockwise to cast it. You light candles to give yourself some light, and to free up your hands of the flashlight you carried to see your way through the woods. 

Make an offering of copper. Your hand pauses on the copper dog tag in your hand. You’d thought of just offering a penny, but you remembered reading somewhere that pennies barely contain copper anymore, and you didn’t have anything else that was entirely made of the one metal. 

You run your finger over the embossed name on it. Lacey. Your pet’s old collar feels heavy in your hand as you remove the tag from the leather strap and bury it in the earth, you guess, to reach the… Underworld? Hell? You can’t honestly say, considering the text you’re referencing only calls it the Otherworld.

It’s a big sacrifice. It’s personal. But, you guess, that gives it more meaning. Making a deal is personal business, and you have your reasons.

Recite the summoning incantation. A stanza of words you don’t understand. You don’t think it’s in Latin, but you try your best, all the same. You read them from the book before you, and feel your blood rushing in your veins as you do.

State your desire out loud in a clear voice. Well, that’s a little more difficult. What is it that you want?

You take a breath, go to speak, and then stop. You don’t know how to start. You don’t know exactly how to describe your pain. You don’t know how to voice your anger well enough, you just know you need to… you need to get it out, somehow. This is a very crucial step in the ritual, you have to do it.

“I came here to make a deal,” you speak frankly, clearly. “I’m prepared to do anything. I’ve run out of options. I’ve been hurt too many times, by too many people who didn’t care what they did to me. I’ve lost everything I genuinely loved. I’m… I’m angry, and desperate, and I’m frightened. And I feel so alone. It’s eating me alive, and I just… I just want the ability to make things go my way, for once.” Good enough, you hope.

Wait for an answer.

You do. You listen intently, to the song of the leaves in the trees rustling in the slight breeze, to the crickets chirping in the grass. You wait long enough that you start to rethink your approach. 

It could be that things will turn around if you just wait another month, or another month after that. Maybe you’ll get the car back. Maybe you’ll get the promotion that was given to the newbie that you trained. Maybe your ex will stop coming around your work to intimidate you. Maybe you’ll get a new dog to take the place of the one that he killed. Maybe the evangelical town you live in will stop shunning you and calling you a witch, like something out of the middle ages.

Unlikely, that last one.

Just when you swear it’s a failure, that you should just pack up and leave, that’s when a strong gust of wind rips through the clearing out of nowhere. The candles blow out– and then, oddly enough, relight themselves. There’s a slight scent of smoke on the breeze, and you look around to make sure none of the candles fell over in the wind.

They’re all perfectly fine. There’s nothing amiss, it seems, until you hear a cough and movement across the clearing. You look forward, and see a pair of black combat boots in the stream of light from your flashlight. You follow the boots up to a pair of legs, clad in dark jeans, and then further up, to a torso, and a head, and a pair of sparkling eyes.

“Hi.”

You stare at him, probably looking like a fish out of water with the way your mouth opens and closes. You’d fully expected the traditional scary depiction of a demon– maybe horns, goat hooves, et cetera. But the man that answered your call is… just a man. A pretty one. He has long, curly hair, which falls over his broad shoulders and stirs in the wind. His plush lips curve up in a relaxed, cocky smile, as he takes in the sight of you in return. 

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Are you just gonna stare at me all night?” 

“Sorry, hi. Hello.” You shake your head. “Can you believe I honestly thought I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time?” 

“I can believe a lot of things. You know, there’s a reason why the demon summoning ritual is first in that book.” His voice is soft and resonant. You get a mental image of heat waves radiating from tar-black and glowing magma, rolling slowly over lava beds. The image disappears just as soon as it flashes into your mind.

“Well, to be completely honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about making a deal with a demon first thing,” you explain, looking away shyly. “But I’ve tried all the spells in this book and not a single one of them worked. Just seems like everything is getting worse all the time.”

He doesn’t look away– rather, he keeps staring at you, unblinkingly. Like you’re the most fascinating creature he’s ever seen. He leans up against the tree that he appeared beside, his leather jacket falling open to reveal a shirt with a demon’s head on it. Fitting. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. 

“So, now you wanna make a deal with little ol’ me, huh?” He grins, a gorgeous smile that flashes bright, sharp teeth at you. He lifts a cigarette to his mouth and bites it gently between his teeth. He doesn’t pull out a lighter. Instead, you watch him light up with a small flame that erupts from the tip of his thumb. 

“Depends on who you are,” you retort, eyes following the movement of his hands. They’re weighed down by large, silver rings that reflect the light of the flame before it snuffs out. “What’s your name?”

He makes a short noise in his throat, shaking his head abruptly. He doesn’t look nearly as intimidating as you feel he should– more like he’s trying to warn you against something you don’t want. He peers at you from beneath his wavy bangs as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth and uses it to point at you. “Names are really powerful things where I come from, babydoll. Best not to bite off more than you can chew yet. Once we cut a deal– that’s when you get my name.”

You make a face as you mull that over. “So what do I call you, in the meantime? Demon daddy?” 

“You could,” he chuckles. The demon rocks to the side, crossing his legs at the ankles. “If you really wanted to. I wouldn’t mind, it’s flattering.” 

You grunt. “I think I’ll pass on that, actually.” He tilts his head with a sicker, watching you with an amused smile while you shift in place. “So, do I– I mean, you need to know what I want, right? Is that how this starts?”

“No, I know what you want.” He exhales a stream of smoke from his nostrils. “You want power. To get a fair shake, find your place, change your life. Defend yourself against the assholes making that life, well. A living hell.” As he spits out the words, his voice rings sharp through the trees, like the strike of a hammer on glowing metal, shooting sparks off into the air. 

“I want to take all this pain and just… return to sender. Give it back to them, y’know? I never wanted any of it,” you justify. Your voice is too small in comparison with his. “Maybe then I’ll be able to fucking breathe.”

For how little space you allow yourself to take up, he seems to consume the rest of it. He nods slowly. “That’s a fair request, sweetheart.”

“It’s selfish, I know.”

“Making a deal for power is inherently a selfish thing,” he shrugs. “Own it. I’m certainly not judging.”

You let out a shaky breath. You’re still so nervous, being so near him– ten feet away and growing closer every second, it seems, even though neither of you have moved. You feel like, no matter how far you pull back, the flow of fiery lava he seems to embody will keep creeping towards you until you’re burned alive.

His dark eyes glow like coals in the night as he looks you up and down, and then he quickly pushes himself away from the tree. You startle at the abrupt movement, and watch as he swings around it like Gene Kelly on a lamp post. 

When he rounds the tree, he uses the momentum to throw himself toward your circle. You flinch, and he frowns, but continues moving toward you at a slower pace, holding his hands out innocently. “Wanna know a secret? About how all this,” he twirls a finger in the air, indicating the ritual you’re in the middle of, “works?”

You nod, gazing up at him shyly. If you felt at all powerful while casting the circle and starting the ritual, he’s managed to take the wind out of your sails. You can feel the power radiating off of him in waves.

He smirks at you. “You make your petition– when you say the words in that little book,” he points at the volume at your feet, “and that petition is answered by whichever demon caters most to that desire.” He points at himself emphatically, his eyebrows raised. “Me? Infernal majesty of freaks and misfits. I’m your demon daddy.”

You finally giggle, and it makes him smile fondly, like that’s what he’d been gunning for all along. He backs up a step and puffs his cigarette. 

“I’m here to help you, sweetheart.” He regards you for a second, like he’s thinking things over. “That is, as long as you agree to my terms.”

“Terms?” You echo, but you were sort of expecting that. Nothing for nothing, right? “What are the terms?”

“Ah, they’re simple. Very traditional,” he waves his hand like it’s frivolous. He holds his hand out in midair, and just like how he’d conjured the flames, he produces a weathered book. It looks like a composition book that has scribbles and doodles all over the front of it– the same demon head that adorns his shirt. “You sign your name with your blood in my little black book, you hop on one foot with your hand on your head and pledge your undying fealty to the dark lord Kthulu, and then you meet me on the sabbath to kill a child and make them into soup.” 

He smiles, fluttering his eyelashes at you innocently. 

“Are you fucking serious?” You blurt. 

“Of course I’m not fucking serious– what is this, the dark ages?” He snorts as he lowers the composition book. “Nah, we don’t do human sacrifice on the sabbath anymore, it was getting too difficult to evade the witch hunters.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He flashes you a disarming grin. You can feel yourself halfway smirking as well, incredulous but somehow enjoying his humor. Then he shakes his head and says, seriously, “No, you do have to sign my book, though. And then meet me back here on the full moon to fuck.”

You blink at him, reeling from the whiplash of that. “You… I’m sorry?”

“I find it best not to sugarcoat it, y’know.” He shrugs, “Think of this as a marriage, of sorts. I give you the power to smite thine enemies, live deliciously, blah blah blah, and then you meet me at the crossroads every full moon to be my whore and we fuck like bunnies all night. Simple as that.”

“That’s far from simple.”

“It doesn’t have to be monogamous, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he continues frankly, “except on the full moon. I won’t compromise about that– you’ll be all mine, and I’m all yours. No takesies backsies.”

“No– that’s not–” You exhale, holding your hands over your eyes. “I’m just… not promiscuous like that…”

“Sweetheart.” He waits until you’ve lowered your hands to look at him, and he hums, with a saccharine smile that reminds you of the power you’d felt sweep through the clearing when he arrived. “You won’t be the first good girl I’ve broken, and you won’t be the last. If you’re worried about promiscuity, well… I answered your petition. I know what goes on in that pretty head, and it barely scratches the surface of what I’ve seen and done.” 

The toe of his boot barely nudges the edge of your circle, and a spark crackles in the dark from the impact. The light dances in his eyes longer than it remains in the air, like they caught the spark and ignited. 

“Trust me,” he says, drawing you in with the low register of his voice. “I can give you more than power. I can give you protection. I can give you real happiness. Karma’s a fucking bitch, so I can be, too. This is just such a little thing in return. And who knows… you may even like it.”

You shiver at that, even though his presence feels hot, like his stream of lava is surrounding you, crowding you in, boiling you where you stand. He’s right– you absolutely might like it. 

Because there’s just something magnetic between you, isn’t there? You can sense it, more than any heat and any sort of primal fear you might have instinctively at his presence. There’s a certain pull you feel toward him, emanating even through the salt barrier on the ground. 

You want to wrap yourself in him. Boil you alive, burn you to a crisp, destroy you– you don’t care.

“Or… is it that you don’t like this body?” He wonders aloud, striding backward two steps. He turns, his hand lifting his seemingly ever-burning cigarette to his lips. “Figures– y’know, I can be anything you want me to be, babydoll.”

Confused, you watch as he transforms in front of you. In the length of two steps while he paces across the clearing, his face and body stretches and contorts, until you’re not staring at the same visage anymore. He stops, and he turns to you with his palms up, like he’s waiting for your approval. 

You’re looking at Tom fucking Cruise. 

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” you shake your head vehemently, scowling. You wave your hands demandingly, “Put it back. You were so hot before– please, please go back to the way you were.”

The demon grins and turns his head, throwing the cigarette away. His hair grows back to its previous length, his face morphing as if made of clay until you meet the same pretty smile you’ve come to enjoy looking at. 

He chuckles, grabbing a lock of his hair and drawing it across his lips. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course,” you murmur, but you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he can hear it. His eyes are embers, blazing at you from beneath his bangs. “Is that what you normally look like? Is that your true form?”

He makes an iffy sound. “It’s what I looked like when I was human. My true form has more horns and unhinged jaws and claws and all that. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I thought you said you could read my mind. Do you know how much monster porn I’ve consumed? That’s hot as shit to me,” you argue, and he snaps his head towards you in surprise. You point at yourself. “Freak and misfit.”

He laughs, and it sounds like the roaring of an out of control fire, burning up everything in its path. He kicks his heel on the ground and steps up to your circle again. “I like you, baby. I really do. What do you say?”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, an annoying lump forming in your throat with the question. You’ve been burned before by people far less powerful than this demon, yet who still hold so much power over you. However much they have.

“You can’t,” he answers, more honestly than most would. He tilts his head with a crooked smile. “Not to get all preachy on you, but even if I wasn’t a demon… trust is built, not a given. ‘The devil you know,’ right? Better than the one that you don’t.”

“Yeah,” you agree, your voice coming out breathy and winded the longer you gaze up into his eyes.

“Trust me to be… intense, I guess,” he shrugs. “And probably impulsive. But I’ll always deliver on our deal. Be my witch, my wife, my whore– whatever you want to call it, but be mine. I think we’ll have so much fun together.”

“Yeah, I think– I think I will.” You’re nodding, and his smile grows with yours. “I want to.”

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

Your toe scuffs the boundary on the ground, breaking the circle. Immediately, your senses are assaulted by smoke, not just the tobacco he’s been smoking but the scent of a wildfire, of cities burned to ashes, of desolation and destruction and pyroclastic flow and roaring, exploding volcanoes. 

Your demon crosses the line you’d drawn on the ground with ease, producing the worn composition book in his hand again. The cover reads Hellfire Club in chicken scratch handwriting. 

“Are there others?” You ask, prompted by the word Club on the front as he flips open the book to a middle page. An agreement is already written out in red ink. “Do you have more than one, um…”

“Consort?” He whispers in your ear. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and your stomach flutters. “Not for a long time. I’m very picky about my partners. They have to be just as much of a freak as I am.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, although the admission makes you feel… better, in a way. You squint in the dark, but with the exception of the candles around your circle, there’s nothing to allow you to properly read what’s written on the page. 

He sighs, shifting on his feet beside you. “Are you one of those people who’ll read the whole contract?”

“Absolutely I am,” you hum. The book feels heavier in your hands than it should. “Can you give me a light?”

“Jesus Christ.” He produces a flame from his forefinger just as you turn to give him a confused look. 

“Shouldn’t you, like… evaporate after saying that?”

In the yellow glow of the flame, he just blinks at you, looking amused. “Things aren’t as black and white as you think they are, believe me.”

You snatch his wrist and yank his arm closer to the page. His body collides with yours, and he grunts in your ear as he wraps his other arm around you, embracing you from behind. You’re engulfed in the scent of smoke and the heat of his flames, impossibly hot and comforting all the same. 

His hair brushes your shoulder as you read his contract. It’s just a few lines, but the weight they hold will seal your fate. 

The agreement made this night of the dark moon shall henceforth be enacted from the signing of this document, that hereby renders the human party’s soul bound to the infernal party. Witness that the first party must appear before the second party each full moon to lay in matrimonial fashion, and that in return the first party shall be protected and given the powers of the second from here until the human’s mortal passing. 

“Aww, that’s sweet,” you coo, tracing the red ink with your fingers. 

The demon over your shoulder rolls his eyes. “It’s a fucking pre-nup.”

“Doesn’t seem like a fair trade, though, does it?” You murmur. “I mean, I get the power to change my circumstances and you get– what– sex once a month?”

His hand tightens on your waist, and you pause. You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes flicker dangerously, so close to yours. They aren’t just glowing coals- this close, you can see the small details. You can see the swirling, the churning of lava within them.

“It’s not just sex, is it?”

“What do you think making a deal with a demon entails, sweetheart? Read the fine print.”

You look back at the page. There are no other words on it, save for the ones you’ve already read. “I don’t…?”

“It’s your soul, honey,” he mutters, pointing at the word. His mouth is muffled against your shoulder as he peers over it. “I won’t ask anything of you other than the sex, as long as you live. But right now, you’re offering up your soul. And once your life is up, you get to be just like me. Understand?”

“I… yeah. I understand.” You let go of his wrist, but pause over the pages of the book. “I don’t have anything to sign with.”

Wordlessly, the demon takes your hand. You let him caress your wrist, feeling your pulse with his thumb. Then, before you realize what’s happening, a sharp sting makes you yelp as he cuts your skin with his pointed thumbnail. 

He shushes you, letting the blood well up on your skin. “I did say you needed to sign with blood.”

Your voice shakes when you hold your dripping wrist over the page. “I thought you said you were joking.”

“Not about the book. Rules of the trade, I can’t change it.” Your blood splatters the notebook, dripping into the crease of the page. Once he’s satisfied, he lifts your wrist to his mouth and closes his lips around the small wound. It heals in a heartbeat. 

“Is that it, then?” You ask, mesmerized by the sight and feeling of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t you have to sign?”

Your demon kisses your wrist gently, his lips soft, inviting. “This is going to hurt,” he warns, and you nod. The heat of his breath makes your skin tingle, all your nerves on high alert. 

But then that tingling turns into a burn, that turns into a searing pain. You feel like your skin is on fire, an invisible hot brand held against your wrist. You cry out as he holds you close, letting you bury your face into his neck, holding you up as your knees threaten to buckle. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs to you as you whimper. He holds your arm as the pain fades into a throbbing ache, cradles your hand against his cheek as he coos into your hair. “You’re so strong. Not many people can handle my mark, you know. Fate works in funny ways.”

Your demon holds you until you can stand on your own, until your breathing evens out and you can compose yourself. He shushes you quietly, rocking you from side-to-side with a soothing hand stroking your head. Then he holds your face, and kisses your tear stained cheeks. The touch of his lips stokes at flames beneath your skin.

“I’ll look forward to our time together, little witch,” he whispers. And with a quick, chaste kiss to your lips, he disappears entirely. 

You stay in the circle for a while, clutching your throbbing wrist and crying frustrated tears. You wonder if you made the right decision, and yet, you don’t understand why you just want him to come back. You miss the comfort of his presence, even if you don’t know enough about him to justify it. All he did was hurt your arm and take your blood and kiss away your tears and make you a witch. 

It’s too late to go back on your decision now. There’s an all-encompassing fire you can feel burning in your veins, emitting from the pulsating wound on your wrist. His power. His fire. 

You pull your hand away from your wrist to finally inspect the mark that he branded you with, declaring you his in the same chicken scratch that had been on the cover of his book. It’s small enough that a well placed bracelet would cover it, but you don’t know that you’ll want to.

Eddie.

Your demon’s name is Eddie.

[adrienneleclerc]

Missing Journal

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles reads Y/N’s journal and finds out she has a crush on an F1 driver.

Warning: the usual spellings and grammatical errors, inaccuracies of pretty much anything involving F1

A/N: kinda based off season 1 episode 3 of Austin and Ally. However, instead of reading the journal about Y/N’s crush and thinking it’s about him when it’s actually someone else, Charles would read it and think it’s about someone else when in reality it’s about him. Does that’s make sense? Cool. Also, i always put Hispanic/Latina because I don't know what you prefer to be called and because this does exclude Spain, Haiti, Brazil, and other Latin American countries that don't speak Spanish.

Y/N and Charles have been friends for a long time, but so have Y/N and Lando. Y/N moved from the states to Monaco and became neighbors with Charles, ultimately becoming friends, but she also participated in Junior Karting with Lando, befriending Lando and Max Fewtrell.

It is safe to say Y/N has been friends with the three of them for a very long time and she is so grateful because she always felt like she didn't belong since she isn't European like them. But she has Logan as well, even if they aren't super close. She splits time between Charles and Lando. If Lando thinks McLaren is going to do soemthing interesting, he invites Y/N to Woking. Something interesting happening at Ferrari? Charles is bringing Y/N to Maranello. Y/N loves travelling (the Sagittarius in me) so it works out perfectly.

One day, Y/N's apartment was flooded because of poor plumbing and Charles offered her a place to stay. When her apartment was clear, both of them decided it was better if they were roommates since she was the better cook and that brings us to today.

Y/N was sleeping in her room peacefully when she felt someone shake her awake and she saw Charles standing over her.

"If you are going to kill me, can i at least eat first?" Y/N asked sleepily.

"Y/N, wake up, they changed our flight to Imola." Charles said and Y/N sat up in her bed.

"What do you mean they changed our flight? Don't we fly priavte?" Y/N asked.

"Yes, but Fred wants us to be in Imola earlier so we have more time to go over strategies so get dressed, sweetie, we need to go to the runway." Charles said. Y/N's heart fluttered at Charles's nickname for her. She tries to think nothing of it because he is a Libra after all, he is very affectionate towards her and Carlos as well. She got out of bed.

"Okay fine, but get out." Y/N said, pushing Charles out of her room to get dressed. She packed a dufflebag with 5/6 outfits, pajamas, anything she really needed for a 5 or 6 day trip more or less.

"Whatever you say, love, I'll buy us something to eat on the way there." Charles said outside her door. The last thing Y/N packed was her journal, she likes writing down everything about her travels since she writes travel articles for Hello Monaco (don't know if there is a traveling section, lets pretend). But she also writes about her love life or lackthereof. Y/N washed her face and got dressed in her comfortable clothes. When she left her room, she sw Charles on the couch with his small luggage.

"Alright, lets go. Are we stopping by the bakery?" Y/N asked.

"Of course. I'll wait outside while you order the pastries, I'll give you money." Charles said.

"Thanks, lets go." They left the apartment and got into Charles's car. Charles parked outside the bakery and Y/N got out of the car, ordered pastries, getting herself a warm cookie croissant (THEY ARE SO GOOD, my mom needs to buy more from the market) and whatever Charles gets. She gets back in the car and Charles starts driving away.

"Can you feed me, honey?" Charles asked. Y/N broke off a piece of the pain au chocolat and fed it to Charles, his tongue and lips touching her two fingers holding the piece of pastry. She felt butterflies in her stomach and decided to just hold the oain au chocolat and have him bite it but... "No, no, i can't drive like that, just feed me like you did before." Charles said and thats exactly what Y/N did.

Now of course Charles knew it wasn't necessary for Y/N to feed him like that, but he loves the intimacy of this gesture. So having her feed him like they were boyfriend and girlfriend even though they are not was great thing in Charles's book. Especially considering his feelings for the Hispanic/Latina queen by his side. Y/N finished feeding Charles the pastry and licked her fingers that were covered in chocolate because no one wastes chocolate here. They were playing music in his car, just vibing, singing along, Y/N finished her cookie croissant, and they were just talking until they made it to the airport runway where their private jet was, with Carlos waiting by the jet.

"Por fin! Por qué se demoraron tanto?" Carlos asked.

"Güey, relájate, teníamos hambre, queríamos comer en el camino." Y/N said, getting her dufflebug out of Charles's car, Charles gets his suitcase out too.

"I don't like it when you call me güey." Carlos said.

"I picked up Mexican slang from Pato that time he was in Woking with Lando. I miss Pato, i gotta text him." Y/N said, entering the jet with Charles and Carlos trailing behind. She sits down. "I'll never get used to this, I grew up lower middle class."

"Well your friends are F1 drivers and we invite you everywhere." Charles said.

"And I thank you for that, honestly. My boss loves my hotel reviews, thanks for paying for my room by the way." Y/N said.

"Of course, it's no big deal." Charles said.

"What i don't get is why we have to fly if the drive is just 5 and a half hours." Y/N said.

"But by plane it is an hour." Carlos said. "That mean we have more time to relax, work on strategies, go clubbing." Carlos says.

"We are not clubbing before media day." Charles warned him.

"Fine, que pesado." Carlos said and Y/N giggled.

The flight itself was bearable, Y/N fell asleep and Charles was watching her with a smile on his face.

"You should tell her you like her, mate. Because this" Carlos says gesturing to what Charles was doing. "Its getting creepy and concerning."

"When the moment is right i will tell her." Charles said.

"Okay then." Carlos said, putting his headphones.

When the jet landed, a chauffer took them from the airport to their hotel. When they arrived at the hotel lobby, Y/N saw Lando and Oscar on the couch, Lando was on his phone while Oscar talked to Logan.

"Lando!" Y/N shouted, running to where Lando was.

"Y/N!" Lando exclaimed, standing up from the couch to hug his best girl friend. "How was your flight? Are you hungry?"

"Nah, I'm fine, I had a cookie croissant before the flight so i should be good." Y/N said.

"Nonsense, you should have a proper breakfast. Osc, you wanna go out for breakfast?" Lando asked the Australian.

"Yeah sure." Oscar said. "Lets get our keys and we'll head out." As soon as everyone got their keys, they went to their rooms which are all on the same floor, WAGS obviously roomed with their partners, Y/N had her own room and she place her dufflebag there. She knocked on Lando's door and he opened up.

"Should i change." Y/N asked.

"Nah, you're fine. You ready to go Osc?" Lando asked Oscar, who was talking to Logan

"Yeah, lets go, catch you later, Logan." Oscar said goodbye.

"I'll talk to you later my fellow American!" Y/N exclaimed as she left with Lando and Oscar. Charles was observing their interaction.

"Jealous?" Carlos asked right behind Charles startling him.

"You scared me, mate. But i am not jealous." Charles said.

"You might want to unclench your fist then." Carlos tapped on Charles's fist and he releases.

On their free day, Y/N was writing down the name of the restaurant/cafe they went to, reviewed the food, the atmosphere, how much the food was.

"Y/N, do you have to review everything?" Lando asked.

"Yes, how was your food?" Y/N asked.

"It was good." Lando said.

"Do you think it is worth the price?" Y/N asked.

"I say yes but I think if you were wokring class, definitely not." Lando said.

"Thank you. What about you, Osc?" Y/N asked.

"I mean I've had better in Monza, but its still good." Oscar replied and Y/N wrote it down.

"You gentlemen have been great help." Y/N said.

"Will you be in the Ferrari hospitality this time or will you be coming over to McLaren?" Lando asked.

"I can't say yet. I'll probably arrive at the paddock with Charles, hang around his hospitality halfway during the break inbetween free practices and then go over to you before the second free parctice starts." Y/N said.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan. You coming to media day or are you going to be sightseeing?" Oscar asked.

"The hospitality gives me free food so I'm going to media day because i don't like sightseeing by myself." Y/N said.

"You just want me to pay." Lando said.

"You have the money to pay for me! I don't see the problem." Y/N said.

"She’s been like this since I joined F1.” Lando told Oscar.

“I do the same with Charles, don’t start.” Y/N said.

(This scene was written before I found out what happened in Imola)

It was media day and Y/N was repping McLaren at the paddock, it made Charles feel a certain way.

“Stopping staring.” Carlos said.

“I can’t help it, they’re acting like a couple and I don’t like it.” Charles said.

“At least she’s not wearing his number.” Carlos tried to cheer him up, Charles was going to answer him when Y/N came up to him.

“Have you guys seen my journal?” Y/N asked.

“How does it look like?” Charles asked.

“It’s a mini blue notebook with my name in rhinestones, my friend decorated it for me.” Y/N said,

“We haven’t seen it, love.” Charles said.

“Fuck, what am I going to do?” Y/N asked worriedly.

“Relax, it’s just a book.” Carlos said.

“It is NOT just a book, it is my diary and work journal all rolled into one, i write ALL my personal stuff in there, if anyone else reads it, I WILL DIE.” Y/N said.

“Maybe you should start taking notes on your phone.” Carlos said.

“Like I’m going to listen to a colonizer.” Y/N snapped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it. I mean you do come from colonizers but i should call you that, it’s not your fault.”

“Ya relájate. We’ll look for it.” Carlos said.

“Thank you! I was basically in every hospitality today so I gotta ask around.” Y/N mentioned.

“Why were you in every hospitality?” Charles asked.

“Well i run an F1 TikTok account too so I was just hospitalities. I hope no one has read it.” Y/N said before running off.

“Do you think she’s overreacting?” Carlos asked.

“Her mom said she was born a drama Queen.” Charles said shrugging. “I’m gonna go talk with Max.” Charles said, leaving Carlos, Charles entered the Red Bull hospitality.

“Hey Charles, where’s Y/N? I found her notebook.” Max said,

“That’s great! Where did you find it?” Charles asked.

“She left it on the couch when she was talking to Checo. Do you know why she was going mental about this?” Max asked, giving the notebook to Charles.

“Apparently there’s a lot of personal stuff written in here.” Charles said and that’s when he got an idea.

“No.” Max said immediately.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” Charles said.

“You are not reading it.” Max said.

“Why not?” Charles asked.

“Because Y/N would probably murder you.” Max said.

“What Y/N doesn’t know, won’t kill me.” Charles said opening Y/N's journal.

"You act as if you were married. Well, what does it say?" Max asked, looking over Charles's shoulder to read what it says.

"Apparently Y/N has a crush on someone on the grid." Charles says. He kept reading. "And that guy is not me, looks like she has a crush on Lando." Charles sighed, closing the book.

"I haven't finished reading it." Max says, taking Y/N's journal to keep reading. "Okay, she could be talking about anyone, it doesn't necessarily mean she likes Lando." Max said, reading over the journal entry.

"Really? 'We've known each other since we were kids', Lando and Y/N have done karting together. 'I could easily get lost in his eyes, his accent is adorable, we spend so much time together and the gestures he does with me are so intimate, it's almost as if we are already togther but we are not', who else could it be, Max?" Charles asked.

"Okay well everyone on the grid has an accent to Y/N except of Logan. I have seen Lando lead Y/N places with his hand on her lower back. Maybe you are right, Y/N has a crush on Lando." Max said.

"Oh well, I lost my chance, let me just give Y/N her journal, I'll see tomorrow before free practice." Charles said.

"I thought we were going to play videoames later tonight." Max said.

"Not anymore mate, I have to talk to Pierre and pout about losing the love of my life to a child." Charles said.

"He's only 2 years younger than you." Max said.

"He is a child!" Charles shouted before leaving the Red Bull hospitality with Y/N's journal in hand. We was walking around the paddock when he spotted Y/N on the phone.

"Si mami, estoy comiendo bien, te lo juro. Mami, luego te marco, mi amigo Charles quiere hablar conmigo, te quiero mucho, bye." Y/N hung up the phone and put it in her bag. "What's up?"

"Oh I found your journal." Charles handed Y/N the journal and she took it happily.

"Thank you so much, you're the best, where did you find it?" Y/N asked.

"Oh in Red Bull, Max found it on the couch." Charles said.

"I'll thank him when i see him. Are you doing anything tonight? I wanted to visit the Aryton Senna statue and since I know you're a fan.." Y/N was cut off by Charles

"Sorry, I'll be with Pierre since Kika couldn't come." Charles said

"Oh, well maybe after free practice tomorrow?" Y/N asked hopefully.

"I don't think so, I'll talk to you tomorrow, Y/N." Charles said leaving Y/N in the paddock and she walked to the McLaren hospitality where Lando and Oscar were playing Uno with some of the mechanics.

"Hey, Y/N, when we finish this round, we'll leave." Lando said.

"Yeah, thats fine." Y/N said and she sat on the couch. Once the game was over, Lando drove her back to the hotel.

"Did you find your journal?" Lando asked.

"I did, Charles and Max found it." Y/N said.

"Then how come you don't sound thrilled that you have your journal back?" Lando asked.

"Because Charles was acting weird, like he said he didn't want to see the Aryton Senna statue." Y/N said.

"But Leclerc is a big fan of him." Lando commented.

"Thats what i said!" Y/N exclaimed.

"Leave him, maybe tomorrow will be better." Lando commented.

Unfortunately, that was not the case, her Friday and Saturday were spent in the McLaren hospitality, she was now watching qualifying on the TV (Q3) and she saw something awful happen, Lando and Charles were fighting for P3, their wheels were touching and everything and it got so bad that now Charles’s front wing and Lando’s rear wing were damaged when Q3 finished. Y/N ran to Lando’s garage to see what happened.

“Bro, what the hell were you two doing?” Y/N asked.

“You should be asking that to Leclerc, I don’t know what is wrong with him, he’s been on my tail for all of quali.” Lando said.

“Don’t worry, I will.” Y/N said storming the Ferrari hospitality and she spotted Carlos. “Cabrón, where’s the other cabrón?”

“He’s in the driver room.” Carlos answered and Y/N bursted into the driver room, Charles was shirtless.

“What the hell, Y/N?!?” Charles asked, putting his shirt back on and Y/N locks the door.

“We need to talk.” Y/N said.

“There is nothing to talk about.” Charles said.

“The hell there is! You’ve been acting weird since Thursday, you haven’t invited me to the Ferrari hospitality, you didn’t want to come with me to see the Aryton Senna statue, it’s like you changed when…” that’s when Y/N realizes what must have happened. “You read my journal!” Y/N yelled, she picked up a pillow and started hitting him. “How fucking dare you!”

“How dare I? How dare you?” Charles asked, blocking her hits.

“Excuse me?” Y/N asked, halting her action,

“You heard me! I Can’t believe you like Lando. Lando? He is so immature!” Charles shouted.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Y/N asked.

“Your journal entry! ‘we spend so much time together and the gestures he does with me are so intimate, it's almost as if we are already togther but we are not’, you spend so much time with Lando, who else could you be writing about?” Charles asked and Y/N just stared at him.

“Mas menso no puedes ser! It’s you, Charles! I like you, you ridiculously oblivious moron!” Y/N exclaimed and now it was Charles’s turn to stare.

“You like me?” Charles asked shyly.

“I love you! We were neighbors, we are roommates, we spend so much time together that I developed feelings for you. Now please say something.” Y/N said,

“I like you too. When I thought you liked Lando i went crazy.” Charles admitted.

“That’s why you were acting like that in quali! Lando was kinda mad,” Y/N said,

“Yeah, sorry about that. But now that I know you like me…you coming to the Ferrari hospitality?” Charles asked.

“Of course I will.” Y/N said.

It was the Grand Prix and Y/N was in the garage with the red headphones one watching from the monitors.

It was a tough race but Charles made P1 and Y/N couldn’t be any prouder. When Charles “parked” the car at his spot, he saw Y/N standing with Free and the rest of the team so he got out from the car and kissed Y/N. They pulled away and smiled.

“Sorry, I got caught up in the moment.” Charles said, laughing.

“Does this mean we’re dating.” Y/N asked all giggly after her first kiss with Charles.

“Of course we’re dating, Mon ange. You are my girl, and now we are paddock official.” Charles said.

“So when are you taking me out on our first date?” Y/N asked.

“As soon as I’m done with the post race interview.” Charles said, kissing her one last time.

The End

It took forever to write but I hope y’all like it, thanks for your patience!

[yuurei20]

Hello! Just want to start this off by saying that I love your blog and I find your posts very informative. I’m a sucker for character analysis and you manage to do it very well.

I had a question about the language aspect of Twisted Wonderland. I saw a screenshot of the novel and in it, it talked about how the Yuuya felt that their words were being translated automatically. Is this a novel only thing? Does the language aspect get explored further past that one page in the novels? Why are their words getting translated and yet other phrases in other languages are not(Rook’s French)? What are your thoughts about this and do you know of any popular discourse surrounding this topic?

My apologies if this is something you’ve talked about before.

Hello hello! Thank you for this question, you are too kind!! m(_ _)m

(For everyone's reference, here is the paragraph in question!)

1. Is this a novel only thing? Thus far this explanation of how Yuuya is able to communicate in Twisted Wonderland has appeared only in the novel, with no mention to similar systems at work in the game or manga!

Yuuya is even capable of reading his textbooks! While it is all vocabulary with which he is unfamiliar he is still able to comprehend the words on the pages, which he possibly wouldn't be able to do without the translation taking place.

(An example might be someone who only speaks French being able to read text written in Japanese but still struggling with unfamiliar magic terms that they wouldn't have understood in their native language anyway.)

2. Does the language aspect get explored further past that one page in the novels?

This aspect has yet to be explored, referenced or even mentioned beyond the one paragraph listed above!

And this lack of an explanation is fascinating 📝 There is no line by Crowley of "Yes there is a translation spell on the island," or "Everyone who arrives through their respective gate is blessed by the Dark Mirror with the ability to understand and be understood," or anything at all!

We are not even given a hint that Crowley--or anyone--knows it is happening. All we have is the one thought from the perspective of a confused Yuuya trying to make sense of his situation.

3. Why are their words getting translated and yet other phrases in other languages are not(Rook’s French)?

We do not know! 🥳 And Rook is not alone, with other characters occasionally using untranslated English-language words both in the game and novel (novel-Ace says "Thank you" in English, novel-Sam says "Hey," etc.)

Is it possible that the system does not replace words that the listener recognizes? Is Rook actually speaking French 100% of the time, but as the prefect recognizes words such as "oui" and beauté," they are not being filtered?

4. What are your thoughts about this and do you know of any popular discourse surrounding this topic?

I found this thread on twstsoku where someone suggests that the cast all understands one another and it is only Yuuya who is having what he says and hears translated for him in real time.

Ideas from other commenters are:

1. "Hypothetically, for example: If Esperanto, which is based on Latin, were used as the common language, and the translation magic worked depending on the native language's distance from it:

German speakers, Japanese speakers → translation needed (as determined by the magic)

Italian speakers → translation not very necessary (as determined by the magic)

French speakers → grammatically, translation is almost unnecessary (as determined by the magic), but their speech is the hardest to understand.

Something like that? Just an example, though."

2. "Wasn't there a part in Ruggie's birthday outfit story where he said he memorized greetings in 10 different languages?"

And I found a similar thread from 2021 (before the novel was released) on this topic, where commenters were discussing whether or not Twst's common language is meant to be English:

1. "OP here, I personally don’t think it’s a common language with the real world, so I hadn’t considered it much.

But if it’s English, that means Twisted Wonderland has a geography and history similar to the real world, with just different country names, etc. I won’t go into too much detail, but English is a branch of the Germanic languages within the Indo-European family, and it contains a lot of words derived from neighboring Western European countries. So, it wouldn’t be English as we know it today unless they followed the same geographical and historical path.

Alternatively, it could be a wholly fantastical world without a history of its own, which just popped into existence one day.

Personally, I’d feel a bit disappointed with both ideas—either that Twisted Wonderland is exactly the same as the real world or that it just popped up suddenly. I’d prefer to think of it as a world with a different language."

2. "If we’re talking about the development of language, it’s not a coincidence that there’s food in Twisted Wonderland identical to what exists in the real world. If Twisted Wonderland is a mirror of our world, it wouldn’t be surprising if they walked a similar historical path."

3. "That’s true! When you think about the design of their clothes, smartphones, and other scientific equipment, it makes sense. So either they followed a similar history, or we’re not meant to think too deeply about it as a fantasy world—those seem like the two options. Hmm, tough choice."

4. "If there were translation magic, there would be no need to study animal linguistics."

5. "Azul’s contract → written in English Words Rook sometimes uses → in French In Ghost Marriage, the opening of Rook’s poem is “I love you” → in Japanese The prefect understands the language → So, is there translation magic? Epel’s dialect isn’t understood → So, there isn’t translation magic?

It’s turning into a bit of a chaotic language situation."

6. "In the beans event, there’s a part where Jamil’s bento is brought up and some says 'that's what they're called in other places,' so it seems pretty decided that there are different languages across regions. But maybe we’re not supposed to think too deeply about it."

--

These are all fascinating points! ^^ Epel is a particular outlier ashis original dialect is, by design, almost incomprehensible (on JP), but maybe whatever translation is going on just does not have his particular village's speech patterns loaded into it? 🧐

Or maybe as a "mirror" to the real world, everyone actually is using Japanese with the occasional English and French outliers, but the language itself is mirrored--they're speaking backwards--and the filter is merely putting words front-to-back for the prefect to understand? ^^ So many possibilities!

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

The special phone call

Hell is invaded by exorcists and the angels attack the Hazbin Hotel.

Alastor needs your help to save hell, because you know a lot about magic and curses.

(Incorrect quote, the plot is not mine!)

Alastor x Reader

Reader's phone rings

Reader: Strawbambi?

Alastor: Hello, my sweetheart.

Charlie (sits next to Al and chuckles in confusion): Strawbambi?

Alastor (rolls his eyes)

Reader: Where have you been?

Alastor: My apologies, my dear. I have been busy trying to save hell from television and angels.

Angel Dust (whispers annoyed): Get that fuckin' information already!

Reader: Who was that?

Alastor: Nobody important. Now, listen: Do you know the spell for controlling the mind of an angel?

Reader: Do you know the earth orbits the sun?

Alastor (chuckles)

Alastor: Well, it starts with two latin words and then… what is it?

Reader: Okay, let me just be clear on this: I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you want a incantation that you should know so you can save hell?

Alastor (in a desperate hurry): My little roe, I be promising that I will make it up to you as soon as possible.

Reader (grins): You can make it up to me now.

Alastor: Pardon?

Reader: I want to hear it!

Alastor: Not right now.

Reader: Yes, now, Strawbambi!

Alastor: Darling, this is urgent!

Reader: Yes, yes, you’re saving hell, I heard you the first time, but Aang is also saving the world and he is about to confront the Fire Lord, so this is y/n, signing off!

Alastor: Wait! Wait! Wait! Fine! Fine!

Alastor (whispers): Ffffffffuck!

Alastor (sighs)

Alastor (turns away from the others, slightly embarrassed): Turn around…

Charlie, Vaggie, Lucifer, Angel Dust, Husk and Cherri Bomb (look at Alastor extremely confused). Niffty (smiles in happiness while watching her boss sing).

Alastor: Look at what you seeeee, in her face, the mirror of your dreeeeeeeeaaaaaaams…

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Truth of the Matter

A four part miniseries

@wonderland-girl143-blog @gregre369 @420-hun

Part One

Part Two

Robin poured over the book that Eddie had bought at the Flea Market. She was reading it rather intensely. She looked up at Eddie.

"You said you bought this at a Flea Market?" Robin asked.

"Actually, it was free. There was this woman selling only this. I thought it was strange, especially when she wouldn't sell it until I came up. She said, "This is for you," and gave it to me," Eddie said. "I tried going back the next weekend, but she was gone, and no one ever heard of her."

"That is. . .odd," Dustin said.

"Well, everything else is in English, but the spells are in Latin," Robin said.

"No, they were all in English. I read English," Eddie said.

"Uh, Eddie, you weren't speaking in English when you said the spell," Lucas said.

"I wasn't?" He asked.

"No," Dustin, Mike, and Lucas said.

"Why are you still glaring at me, Michael?" Robin asked. "I almost punched you, but I didn't. . . Anyway, it says here that only people with Wiccan blood can automatically translate the spells in their head and perform them."

"Wait, does this mean that I'm a witch?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah."

"Holy shit! This is the COOOLEST!" Eddie yelled.

"Hey, maybe you can use your powers to help Steve find his parents," Dustin said.

"Oh, shit, that's right. . .Harrington was kidnapped," Eddie winced and whirled around. "Sorry, man."

Steve had plopped down on Eddie's throne and leaned back against it as he crossed his legs. He was staring straight ahead, looking at nothing. Eddie tried to ignore how good he looked in that chair and also the fact that he wanted to untangle his legs to sit down in his lap. His face looked troubled, so Eddie easily pushed those thoughts away.

"You okay, man?" Eddie asked.

"Steve?" Robin asked.

"Shit! Robin, who's at the store?!" Steve asked, sitting up.

"I closed the store and hitched a ride with a customer. Keith is going to be pissed but I thought you were being murdered," Robin said. "Anyway, more important things to focus on here, babe. Are you okay?"

"Well, my parents aren't my parents, which I kind of always thought, but I didn't think they kidnapped me. Do you think they might have killed my real parents?" Steve asked.

"I don't know, but we're going to fucking find out because you look like a goddamn kicked puppy and the way you're inflating your eyes like that is killing me," Eddie said as he ripped the book out of Robin's hands.

"We're just going to ignore a lot of the secrets that Steve spilled, right?" Dustin asked.

"Even the sex dream about - " Lucas started to say.

"Yes, because that's my fucking sister and Will's brother!" Mike exclaimed.

"Ah, the sex dream. Did you mention the clown sitting in the corner watching while it made balloon animals?" Robin asked.

"No!" Steve scowled. "Fucking clowns."

"Did you really touch Steve’s dick?" Dustin asked Robin.

"Yes, and my lesbianism is still very much intact," Robin said. "Thank God."

"I thought we weren't going to talk about this!" Mike yelled.

"Mike's such a prude. He's afraid to talk about sex even though we're all sentient walking water bags made of sex and flesh," Dustin said.

"Okay. Now, you just made me uncomfortable. Never describe it like that again," Eddie said.

Dustin gave him a toothy grin, and he smiled softly before looking back at the book.

"What are we going to do if my parents are like dead or on the other side of the world?" Steve asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, Steve," Dustin said.

"You want to know, don't you?" Robin asked.

"Yeah. . .yeah, I guess," Steve said softly. "I guess it's the feeling that I don't know what to expect here that's overwhelming me. I'm trying not to get my hopes up for really good parents."

"That makes sense," Robin said softly. "I'm sure it'll work out."

"I can't believe Eddie's allowing you to sit in his chair," Mike said. "No one sits there except for him."

"It's cause he's pretty," Eddie said without looking up, and Steve giggled. "Hey, I found it! Steve, get your gorgeous ass in the circle and take off your shirt. Oh, you also need a blank piece of paper."

"Does it really need me to take off my shirt?" Steve asked.

"Yes it does," Eddie said seriously.

Dustin looked over his shoulder, frowned, and opened his mouth to say something. Eddie quickly put his arm around him and pulled his face to his chest, cooing at him. Steve looked doubtfully at him for a moment before getting up off the chair and pulling off his shirt. Dustin shoved Eddie away, scowling at him. Eddie grinned at Steve as he moved back into the circle with a sheet of paper. Eddie relit the candles and got the others to stand around Steve.

"Am I good?" Steve asked.

"Hold on, you need to be a little bit more even," Eddie frowned.

He placed his hands on Steve’s hips and moved him slightly.

"I think you're just finding any excuse to touch me," Steve smirked.

"Who? Me?" Eddie asked innocently.

"If I look in the book, it's not going to say I need to be shirtless, is it?" He asked.

Eddie smirked and moved his hands to Steve’s stomach. He dragged his fingertips up, moving softly over his skin. Steve shuddered. He rested his hands on his pecs for a moment before moving them to his shoulders.

"On your knees, big boy," Eddie said as he pushed him to his knees.

"I just want to remind you that there are children in the room, and one of them is me!" Robin yelled and Eddie jumped.

"What were we doing?" He asked as he blinked a lot.

"Oh my God! Finding Steve’s parents!" Dustin shrieked. "Have your way with our babysitter later!"

"You act like it's my fault!" Eddie exclaimed. "Tell Steve to stop being so pretty!"

"Steve! Stop it!"

"I can't help it! It just naturally happens," Steve smirked.

"Well, since you're not human, I guess you could say it's SUPERnatural," Robin said.

Robin and Steve giggled before high fiving each other. Dustin sighed.

"Steve, do you want to find your parents or not?" Dustin asked.

"Not if you're going to have that attitude," Steve scowled.

"It's his tone, right?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, let's get this done before our kid has a conniption," Steve said.

"He's really eager to meet his grandparents," Eddie cackled.

"Oh, now, you're in on the joke?" Dustin asked as Mike and Lucas laughed.

"Yeah," Steve and Eddie said.

Eddie opened the book and began to chant. The lights flickered, and the flames from the candles shot up in the air. Wind whipped around the room as Eddie continued to say the spell. Steve twitched and then shook before falling backward. He started shrieking in pain as the paper fell from his hands.

"Eddie! Stop! Stop! STOP! SOMETHING'S WRONG!" Lucas yelled.

Eddie stopped the chant, and as soon as he did, Steve stopped screaming.

"My back, my back. . .something's on my back," Steve said.

Eddie shut the book and rushed so quickly to get to him that he ended up sliding across the floor on his knees. He turned Steve over to find a painful looking rune flaring up in the middle of his back.

"What the fuck is that?" Mike asked.

Eddie opened the book and began flipping through the pages, cursing as he did so. Meanwhile, he had Steve’s head in his lap, blinking up at him.

"Okay, it says here that it's some sort of rune of protection. . . Against fae. . .you know, fairies. . .a witch placed it on you," Eddie said. "Well, that's fucked. . . No wonder your parents couldn't find you. . .well, let's see if we can't get this fucker off of you. . . Shit, I hope I can do this. . .it says I need to be related to the witch who placed the rune on you."

Eddie took one hand off the book and began stroking Steve’s hair. He muttered something, and the page turned. He did that quite a few times as he read.

"Eddie, what did you say to the book?" Mike asked.

"Oh, I said,"Turn the page." I guess I was speaking in Latin again," Eddie said.

"That's so cool," Dustin muttered.

"Okay. . .getting this rune off is going to hurt a lot. . .do you want to do this?" Eddie asked Steve.

"I'm used to a little pain. Bring it," Steve said.

"Okay, sit up," Eddie said and pulled a knife out of his pocket.

Steve sat up, putting himself on his knees again. Eddie sat behind him and muttered something else. The spellbook floated in front of him, and he opened the knife. Eddie sighed and hesitated before placing a kiss on Steve’s shoulders blade.

"Is that part of the spell?" Steve asked.

"No, it's just going to fucking hurt a lot. It's basically me cutting it out. . .so, yeah. . .sorry, so, so, so sorry," Eddie said.

He muttered another spell as he looked at the book and held the knife over a flame, letting it get hot. He chanted for a moment, and the flames flared up around the blade. Eddie hovered the blade above the rune and started to say the spell as he moved the knife as though he was actually cutting it off. Steve let out an inhuman shriek, his yells bouncing off the walls. The wind picked up, the flames grew higher, and the lights above them exploded as Eddie continued to chant. Tears rolled down Steve’s cheek as he threw his head back. Finally, Eddie stopped, and Steve collapsed in relief.

"Shit, that did hurt," Steve said, and he paused when he didn't get a response. "Eddie?"

Steve turned around and found Eddie still sitting on his knees. Blood was pouring out of his nose. He swayed and fell backward. Steve moved over to him and cradled him in his arms.

"Eddie?" He asked.

"There was a suggestion in the book to not overdo it. I was just like. . .fuck it, I can do it. I'm fine, I'm fine. . .I just need someone's lips on mine," Eddie said and closed his eyes, puckering his lips.

"Alright, I'll just go find Principal Higgins, shall I?" Dustin asked, peering over Steve’s shoulder.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Eddie sat up quickly. "Oh, too fast! Sleepy. . ."

He pressed his cheek against Steve’s chest and closed his eyes again. His snores filled the room.

"I guess we'll take him back to my place," Steve said and picked him up.

Robin pulled out a tissue and wiped Eddie's nose.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Your tits are still out, you slut."

"Right. Thanks, Robin."

When Eddie woke up, he found himself in a very ugly room. Plaid walls, plaid curtains, plaid sheets. . .Eddie screamed. He screamed louder at the single car poster hanging on the wall. . .it was all so sad. Steve burst into the room, wielding a bat with nails.

"Steve, where the hell am I?" Eddie asked.

"My house and my room," Steve said.

"Oh my God, this is your room? This is hell, Steve," Eddie said in horror.

"Well, my parents like everything neat," Steve said.

"You mean, your kidnappers," Eddie corrected.

"Right," Steve frowned. "Come on, let's get something in you."

"Hell yeah!" Eddie exclaimed and started unbuttoning his pants.

"What are you doing? I was talking about food. There's pizza downstairs," Steve said.

"Yeah, that's what I was talking about," Eddie said quickly. "I was just unbuttoning them to make room for the pizza."

"Right," Steve smirked. "As much as I would love to do that with you, some secrets should remain secret. I do not want the kids to know that I'm a screamer. Let's go, sweet cheeks."

Steve slapped his ass and Eddie cursed.

"I hate you!"

"No, you don't!"

Dustin immediately threw his arms around Eddie the minute he walked into the kitchen. Steve smiled softly at the sight of them and ruffled his hair.

"You scared the shit out of us, man," Dustin said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just needed some rest," Eddie grinned. "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight. Are you going to do the location spell again?" Mike asked.

"He just woke up, Mike. Let's get some food in him first," Steve sighed.

"After I eat," Eddie said, snapping his fingers at him.

Sitting down to eat, Eddie spent the majority of the meal laughing with the kids and playing with what he thought was Steve’s leg under the table. It had been Robin's.

"You could have told me!" Eddie hissed.

"Then it wouldn't have been funny," Robin replied.

They gathered in the living room and pushed the furniture out of the way to create the circle. Eddie knelt in front of Steve this time, the book floating beside them, and the piece of paper on the floor.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Steve said.

"I kind of do. . .I judged you harshly before. . .because you're a jock and because of the assholes who's bothered us in the past. I used to think that since you had a big house and a fancy car that you had it easy. I used to mock you mercilessly in Hellfire, and that wasn't right of me to do that," Eddie said. "Not all jocks are bad."

"Well, no one is perfect," Steve said. "This is a lot even for all of that. Thank you, you're a good man."

"I mean, so are you," Eddie said, blushing. "I'm still an asshole though."

"Yeah, that's true," Steve said with a grin.

Steve cupped the back of his neck and pulled him for a kiss. It was short and sweet. When Steve pulled away, Eddie let out a soft giggle.

"I am loving this," Dustin grinned and then frowned. "But also, gross."

"Yeah, kids never like it when their parents kiss," Robin said, and Dustin sighed loudly.

Grinning, Eddie performed the spells without any problems. Words appeared on the paper. One of them was an address in Indianapolis, and one of them was a plot number for the cemetery in Hawkins.

"Well, shit, I guess one of my parents is dead," Steve frowned.

"Sorry, Steve," Dustin said quietly.

"We don't have to do it tonight, but we can check out the cemetery whenever you want to," Robin said.

"I'm curious now, and at least, I'll get one answer tonight," Steve said. "Although, going at night seems like a bad idea."

"Don't be a chicken shit, Steve, let's do it," Dustin grinned.

So, now, here they were. . .at night. . .in a fucking graveyard. They had flashlights, and Steve made sure to bring his trusty bat. Meanwhile, Robin made sure to bring a thermos full of hot cocoa that she was currently sharing with the boys in front of them. Eddie was walking beside Steve, swinging his arms and letting his hand brush up against Steve’s.

"So, was that kiss just a one-time thing, or are you planning on doing it again?" Eddie asked.

"I definitely want to do it again. . . Would that be okay?" Steve asked.

"Definitely," Eddie grinned and then paused. "You said back in the drama room that you'd always be in love with Nancy Wheeler."

"Well, yeah, a part of me, anyways. There's just so much history there, and she's just so. . . Nancy. She's beautiful, and she cares so much about people. She's willing to put it all on the line for her friends and for her family. She's the bravest person that I have ever met. I don't regret falling in love with her. . . But I regret that I didn't get to know her best friend and I wish I could have been there for her when she needed me the most. I know what happened to Barb wasn't our fault, but I still can't help feeling guilty. I think there's always going to be that connection between us," Steve said.

"I know that Barb died, and she was Wheeler's best friend, but isn't it that Brenner's guys fault? The one Dustin told me about?" Eddie asked. "Why would you feel guilty?"

"Well, it was the first time that Nancy and I had sex together. While that was going on in my house, Barb was being dragged into the Upside Down and . . . Well, you know. . ." Steve said.

"Holy fucking shit. . .yeah, I could see how that could mess you both up," Eddie said.

"Yeah. . .it's pathetic, I know. . ." Steve said.

"No, man, it's not. You're not pining after her, you love her, and you accept the fact that you're not going to be together. I can see why either of you would want to hold onto the good parts of your relationship. You all have been through so much shit and if you guys can come through it all while still having love in your hearts. . . It's amazing," Eddie said.

"Yeah," Steve smiled and paused. "Have you ever been in love?"

"I've come close. I think at the time, we both had stars in our eyes, and all we saw when we looked at each other were plane tickets out of town. In the end, I couldn't leave town, but she could have, and after everything she did for me, I couldn't go with her. I wish I had done it better, but yeah, I pushed her away so she wouldn't come back," Eddie said.

"Damn, you white fanged her?" Steve asked.

"I mean, I guess you could call it that," Eddie said. "You know White Fang?"

"Yeah, it's not my favorite," he said and paused. "I wish things had gone better with. . ."

"Paige," Eddie said.

"Paige," Steve said.

"I wish things had gone better with Nancy," Eddie replied.

"Yeah," he said softly.

"You like women, too?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "It took me a while to realize that I liked men at all or that I was even flirting with them. According to my best friend, Ronnie, it's not exactly very straight of me to go on rants about jocks' sweaty muscles."

"Was I in one of those rants?" Steve asked as he stopped and turned to Eddie.

He pulled Eddie into his arms, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"You were very prominent," Eddie said bashfully.

"Maybe you didn't hate me at all," Steve said, his eyes twinkling. "Maybe you just had a type."

Eddie kissed him, and Steve smiled against his lips. Eddie wrapped his arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth.

"REALLY ROMANTIC, STEVE, MAKING OUT IN A GRAVEYARD!" Dustin yelled. "YOU'RE KISSING OVER DEAD PEOPLE!"

Eddie growled as he broke the kiss and Steve bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"NO ONE IS SUPPOSE TO KNOW WE'RE HERE BUT IF YOU KEEP YELLING LIKE THAT THEY'RE GOING TO. . .BUTTHEAD!" Eddie yelled back at him.

"FOUND IT!" Lucas yelled.

"I don't think they understand the word subtle," Steve sighed. "Although, neither do you, so they're definitely yours."

"Were there doubts?" Eddie asked with a dramatic gasp.

Steve smiled softly at him, grabbed his hand, and laced their fingers together before pulling him in the direction of the kids. When they got to them, Robin and the kids were whispering together.

"There's no fucking way!" Mike exclaimed. "He never had kids!"

"That you know of. I imagine that it was probably painful to talk about your son getting kidnapped and being unable to find him in your own hometown," Dustin said.

"What? What is it?" Steve asked.

"Are we even sure it's the right plot?" Mike asked.

"Yes!" Dustin and Lucas exclaimed.

Steve moved towards the gravestone and shined his flashlight on it.

BOB NEWBY

SUPERHERO

Part Three

[natashasvixen]

Bunny love

Summary: As much as she may try to hide it from her Rio knows that Agatha gets lonely when she has to “work” and while away she finds what she hopes may be the perfect companion for her wife.

Tags: Pure fluff, married Agathario, soft Rio, soft Agatha, baby Señor Scratchy, pet names (mi amor, angel) , pre Agatha all along?

💢Spoilers if you don’t know Rio’s identity yet💢

Author’s note: Hi hello, I genuinely don’t remember the last time I wrote anything but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and I just love them so much, we aren’t going to talk about how much research I did into rabbit breeds being introduced to which countries and in which years, it’s embarrassing…. Enjoy!

Scotland 1953

It was late into the night, maybe even early morning judging by the pitch blackness outside the windows as Agatha sat next to the fireplace she’d been tending with a blanket thrown over her lap and one of her many spell books balanced neatly on the arm of the couch. The Scottish winters were harsh but the little cottage nestled away in the highlands that her and Rio shared fared well and it was more than worth it for the beauty of the landscape that surrounded their home. Here she and her wife almost felt closer to their witch roots than even that of being back in Salem and Agatha certainly didn’t miss the reminders of her Mother and Coven everywhere she looked, here in the forest surrounded by only nature she knew they were safe to live their life together, not having to hide their magic or their love for one another.

With a slight sigh Agatha pulled herself out of her little daydream and focused her eyes back on the pages of the book in front of her, her head was starting to hurt from the jumble of Latin and other languages, Agatha reached forward for the piece of paper she was jotting down notes on, grabbed her pen and wrote down a few more things that could be of help for the spell she was trying to create, Rio said she was mad trying to make a child of magic that would be both of theirs equally but Agatha would go to the ends of the earth to make it true, she wanted nothing more than a family with the love of her life and deep down she knew Rio wanted it too, she didn’t care if it was against the laws of magic to do so and for hours upon end every day she would read every spell book and grimoire cover to cover trying to find all the answers and incantations she may need to finally make her and Rio’s dream a reality.

The Netherlands (somewhere)

To be perfectly honest Rio wasn’t sure where she was, the Netherlands that’s for sure but she’s not sure which city she is on the outskirts of, you’d think after hundreds of years of transporting souls of the dead to their final resting place all over the world she would be better at her geographical knowledge but it wasn’t really important when you always had the same destination to reach in the end. It had been a tiring trip, yes she was death personified but that didn’t mean what she had to do got any easier over the years, this time it had been a young family and while at least they could stay together it still drained her to think of the life they could have had. Gently she lowered herself to sit on a frosted log and took a moment to collect herself before heading home to her beloved. As Rio rested her head in her hands she heard a faint rustling in front of her, she narrowed her eyes and looked forward, faintly bringing her green magic to the surface, even now the memories of the witch trials hung over her head and she was always ready to protect herself if need be.

Much to Rio’s amusement a small rabbit emerged from the undergrowth, “wow lady death being spooked by a bunny rabbit that’s a new low” she mused to herself as she watched the rabbit tentatively move closer to her. “Well you certainly aren’t meant to be out here, you’re definitely not a wild rabbit” Rio spoke to the small creature slowly lowering her hand out for the bunny to sniff, the little thing was as far from a wild rabbit as you could get, bright white with speckles of light orange and black spots and the floppiest ears you’ve ever seen also far too tiny to be out wandering alone.

Being a green witch and yet also lady death was a confusing combination for nature to comprehend sometimes, Rio was drawn to nature and it often returned the same feeling towards her, that included the living beings that inhabited its world and this baby rabbit seemed no different, hopping over after a quick sniff of her hand and settling down under Rio’s cloak to shield itself from the cold breeze that washed over the countryside, she chuckled at its actions and flicked her wrist, her green magic making some dandelions sprout from the icy ground which the rabbit happily munched on.

As the witch watched the small rabbit eat she pondered to herself, “can’t exactly leave you out here can I? And Agatha has been going on about getting a familiar” the tiny ball of fluff stood up on its back legs resting its front feet on the side of Rio’s leg barely reaching above her boot and looking at her intently. Rio smiled to herself and scooped the rabbit into her arms who settled down instantly into the warmth, “she’s going to say I’ve gone soft” she scoffed to herself as she prepared to transport herself and her new little companion home.

Agatha’s research for the night was becoming increasingly exhausting and she knew she should have been in bed hours ago, this was made abundantly clear when she felt the familiar pull of her wife’s magic that was so intertwined with her own she knew when she was close, meaning she was in fact home from helping another soul pass on through the veil.

Rio always transported herself home outside of their cottage when she was late not wanting to wake her wife from her slumber however as soon as she found herself on the snow dusted doorstep of their home she could feel Agatha’s magic humming with life and clearly not sleeping, gently tucking the little bundle of fluff she was carrying further into her cloak both to keep him warm and hidden so she could surprise her lover she gently eased the wooden door open and slipped inside quickly to not let the heat of the fire out.

Slipping off her boots and easing down the hood of her green cloak she moved her way into the living area where she saw her wife smiling tiredly at her from her comfy position on the couch, “mi amor what are you still doing awake” Rio asked quietly as she raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Just doing some more research” Agatha sighed, motioning to the still open spell book, “I didn’t realise the time, how was your trip angel?” She questioned softly. Rio scoffed as she always did at the pet name Agatha had bestowed upon her all those years ago when they met for the first time, quite fitting being called an angel when she was literally death itself. “Tiring” she mumbled leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her wife’s head, as she did Agatha noticed movement beneath Rio’s cloak and a quick hiss came from her wife’s mouth, Agatha noted that she still had one arm tucked away behind the fabric. She tilted her head quizzically at the green witch, “what are you hiding from me?” She questioned reaching to grab at her cloak, “ah ah ah” Rio tutted, pulling away, “it’s a surprise” she said, holding up her other hand to wave a finger at her wife mockingly.

“Oh come on Ri you know I hate surprises” Agatha said getting up on her knees to try get a better look over the back of the couch at what her wife was concealing underneath her cloak. Rio rounded the couch and Agatha turned to follow her movements now sitting crossed legged as Rio stood in front of her with both her arms now tucked back inside her cloak, “you’re going to make fun of me” the green witch said as she became uncharacteristically shy and turned her body slightly away.

“Well that depends what it is but I promise I’ll try not to tease” Agatha said with a smirk reaching her hand out to beckon Rio closer to her.

Now Rio stood right in front of Agatha and the purple witch gently took hold of the arm that her wife had been hiding and noticed that there were scratch marks, “you think I’m going to make fun of you for getting scratched?” Agatha questioned looking confused “why haven’t you healed it these are hardly anything” right as she finished her sentence from Rio’s other arm and behind the fabric of her cloak hopped the tiny bunny landing straight in Agatha’s lap. “Well now you’ve ruined the surprise” Rio glared at the bunny making Agatha burst out laughing.

Rio pouted and crossed her arms over her chest “told you you’d make fun of me” she whined. Agatha’s laughter died down wiping a tear from her eye as she looked up at her wife who looked like an annoyed child, “I’m not making fun of you love he just took me by surprise” she giggled as she pulled her wife to sit next to her and started to pet the bunny who sat happily in her lap like nothing had happened, “and what pray tell made you take me home a sweet baby bunny?” She asked leaning over to press a kiss to Rio’s cheek.

Rio sighed leaning into her wife’s side, “well you haven’t let up about wanting a familiar recently and besides he found me not the other way around” she smiled reaching over to boop the bunny’s nose.

Agatha looked down lovingly at the bunny as she continued to pet him, “I was thinking more black cat or raven you know but hmmm I think I can train him up to be a scary bunny” Agatha cooed as she snuggled the bunny under her chin, not long after he kicked off his back feet jumping onto Agatha’s lap before further hopping down to the floor and flopping himself in front of the fireplace leaving Agatha with matching scratches on her arms, “te veo señor” Rio laughed and her and Agatha fell into each other giggling at the rabbits antics, “scratchy little thing” Agatha said examining her and her wife’s arms before looking back at the rabbit clearly making himself at home, “that’s what I’ll call you” she said placing a kiss to that back of Rio’s hand, “Señor Scratchy” she said looking into her wife’s eyes “thank you my angel” she said softly before leaning in and connecting their lips in a soft kiss, when they parted Rio started placing kisses on Agatha’s arm, “now let me fix the little devil’s marks” she smirked at her wife before starting to gently lick at the superficial wounds, “I missed you amor” she sighed against her skin, “I missed you too angel” Agatha said gently kissing her wife’s head.

Their perfect little family was almost complete.

[jumexju]

¿OH, QUÈ SERÀ?

Pairing !! : House / Reader

Fic Type !! : Oneshot / Fluff

CW !! : House's jokes (He's an ass), reader is latino/a (gender isn't specified), untranslated spanish is used

Summary !!: He made a bet with Wilson.. and lost.

Note !! : the house md brainrot is consuming me lol (szn 5 is making me physically ill)

✦ MASTERLIST

“You Like them!” Wilson barged into House’s office as if he had made a grand discovery. House dismissed his team and continued eating his tacos de birria, waiting for Wilson to expand on his outrageous claim of him liking a woman. “It’s been three weeks and they're still living with you, ergo: You haven't kicked them out or you haven’t told me — and the latter can’t be true because you tell me everything!” The blonde had his hands on his hips while he talked. 

“Who? _____?” House asked, feigning confusion. “They cook and they're not boring. Plus they clean- And for free too!” 

“Not for free, they need a place to live, they're probably just being courteous, House!” Wilson warned, “You’re trying to hide the fact that you care about them because then it makes you seem more human and you don’t want that because you hate when people see your nice side!” The Oncologist kept lecturing him but he wasn’t really paying any attention to it. 

“I have a nice side?” House's words dripped with sarcasm. He did, however, seem to be enjoying the birria tacos you’d made the day before. Apparently it was a big thing in latin american culture to cook as if you were feeding a whole village, so you had a lot left over. 

“Yes, you have a-! That’s why you’re letting them stay!” Wilson argued, a boyish smile on his face at the realization that his friend had a crush on a fellow colleague. 

“I’m not letting them do anything, I’m just taking advantage of their cooking and cleaning skills.” He dipped the end of the taco in the consumè you’d made, savoring the explosion of flavor that was currently happening  in his mouth. 

“You know that’s not true.” Wilson sat in front of House’s desk, facing him with the smile still present. “You L-I-K-E  them,” The blonde spelled out, “Just admit it!” 

“If I do, will you leave me and my tacos  alone?” House lifted a brow as he licked his index finger and thumb. 

“You didn’t happen to delete a message they were expecting from an apartment manager, did you? ,” Wilson questioned, a knowing look on his face. 

“... No-”

“Aha!” Wilson exclaimed, “Your hesitance indicates that you did! Jeez, just ask them out, House. It’s not that hard,” Wilson shrugged, “Unless you’re too chicken of course…” 

“You wanna bet?” House laid back in his chair, empty tupperware sitting on his desk as he smirked. 

“A hundred dollars if  you ask them out and go out on a genuine date.” Wilson said as he crossed his arms. See, he knew something that House didn’t. Around a few months ago, you confided in Wilson and told him about your feelings for House. However, when Wilson had suggested that you ask him out, you said you didn’t want to risk it, especially because you knew there was a high chance he wouldn’t reciprocate. Of course, Wilson said it was reasonable and left it alone, listening to your vents about House and whatnot whenever your attempts to bury your feelings failed. 

Unfortunately for House, You were a great actor, because not even he knew of your feelings for him. You kept it professional, or well tried to before you had to move out. You didn’t tell him the details of that, but somehow you ended up living in House’s…  house. Certain that you would say no, House replied: “If you lose, you owe me a hundred.” With that, the bet was in place and House couldn’t be more excited to get his hundred dollars tomorrow and see the defeated look on Wilson’s face when he told him that there was no date. 

With a pep in his step, House could hear the faint salsa playing before he even opened the door. His keys jingled while finding the right one but before he could insert it into the lock, you opened the door. Did you recognize the jingle of his keys? “Hey? You’re back late.” You smiled before leaving him to walk in and close the door himself. 

“Yeah it Wilson was begging me not to go, He’s clingy.” House joked. 

“You guys make the cutest couple,” You said sarcastically as you stirred the rice you were making. 

House sat on the couch and popped a pill, “I wear the pants in the relationship, just so you know.” 

“Yeah I can’t picture you wearing a skirt,” 

“I can picture you wearing a skirt,” House insinuated as he checked you out, “You’ve got a great ass for it.” 

You rolled your eyes, “You’ve gone senile, Atrevido.” You shook your head and laughed at his comments. “Has that line ever worked on anyone?” 

“Usually,” House shrugged.

“Yeah maybe back in your day,” You finished off the rice and began slicing the potatoes you’d put off to the side earlier. “Anyway, You haven’t heard any messages about  the apartments I applied at, have you? They said they’d call me back like two weeks ago and I haven’t heard anything.” 

House pursed his lips and acted clueless, “Nope, Nada.” The older man shrugged and positioned his feet on the coffee table in front of him. “What are you making?” 

“Carne con papa y arroz,” You told him. “My mom used to make it for me as a kid and I missed the taste so I’m making it. ¿Te terminaste los tacos de birria que hice ayer?” 

“Yeah.” House left out the part where he smacked Wilson’s hand for trying to steal a taco. 

“What’d you think of them?” 

“They weren’t horrible.” House, being himself of course, wouldn’t admit that he loved them. 

You smiled to yourself, knowing House, that was probably the closest you were going to get to a compliment about your food. Because the tupperware was basically clean, you could tell he actually liked them. For House, his actions usually spoke louder than his words. Once the meat finished cooking, you added the potatoes and put the lid over the pot, the only thing left to do was to wait for the potatoes to soften. With a sigh of relief, you grabbed your cup of mango-strawberry flavored wine and hummed the tune that played softly in the kitchen as you walked over to the couch to sit next to House. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, House spoke up. 

“Do you wanna go on a date?” 

You looked up from your magazine, “A date?” 

House slowly nodded, “That’s what I said, yeah.” 

You shrugged, “As long as you’re paying.” You chuckled and kept reading your magazine, you didn’t even take a moment to mull it over. House was a little surprised by your lack of hesitance, but it was overshadowed by his disappointment. 

“Wait, really?” House asked but he didn’t seem thrilled by your willingness to go on a date with him. 

“I mean, yeah?  It’s free food. It’s not like you like me or anything so why would I pass that up?” You chuckled, “Unless you actually like me, in which case, I probably look like an asshole right now.” Your eyes widened and you put your magazine down. “You don’t like me do you?” 

“No, it was a bet, which — thanks to you — I just lost.” He sighed and slouched into the couch. 

“My bad,” You laughed, “How much did you bet on me saying no?” 

“A hundred dollars.” 

You almost spit out your wine, “You were that sure I’d say no??” 

“I was, up until a moment ago.” House glanced at you as if you’d sabotaged him. 

You patted his arm trying to calm his butthurt-self, a bright smile on your face, “Sorry House, Free food is hard to pass up.” 

“Yeah, Milk the hot doctor of allllll his money, that’s your plan huh?” House looked up at the ceiling. 

“Dunno about the ‘hot’ part but everything else is accurate,” You laughed, picking up your magazine again. 

“Yeah, I’m not as hot as the burning food on the stove right now.” House stated. Your eyes widened as you hopped off the couch, setting the wine on the coffee table and running to the stove. 

“You ass! You couldn’t just  remind me like a normal person??” 

He sipped on your glass of wine as you checked if the food was burnt, “I’m far from normal, I thought you’d’ve known that by now.” House chuckled. 

“You shouldn’t drink when you’re on drugs y’know.” You snatched the cup from him as you sat back down, “You’ll end up doing some serious damage to your brain.” 

“Like I can get any worse, It’s not like I’m dying.” He turned on the TV, the  rom-com you two would watch together came on. 

“Yeah it’d suck if you died,” You finished the cup of wine. 

“Would it?” He asked as he glanced at your lips, wet from the wine. 

“Yeah. Where else would I live?” You met his eyes. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Freeloader.” 

“Hey-! I’m cooking and cleaning as payment, so not freeloading.” You nudged him with your elbow, playful smile on your face as you looked back at the TV. 

Maybe Wilson was right. Maybe he did like you. 

Just a bit though.

[sleepisoverrated]

My headcanons about Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson is smart.

Like I hate it when they make him a dumb bimbo, he's hot yes he knows it, but he also has been hacking into the Pentagon for fun since he was ten, survived Spyral and several almost apocalypses. I know it's cannon since no Bat is dumb, but some fics, SOME FICS, make him look like he never went to school.

Dick Grayson knows so many languages.

I assume due to the fact that he grew up in a traveling circus he already knew a lot of languages(even if his english was bad when his parents died), but due to being robin and Bruce Wayne's ward he learned basically all major languages on Earth( and some alien) like Romani, German, French, Russian, English, Italian, Greek, Spanish, Irish, Finish, Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese, Indian, Latin, backwards speech(Zatara), Tamoranian(i think that's how you spell it), Kryptonian, speedster(when speedsters talk super fast) and so on.

Dick Grayson has at least some immunity against Fear toxin(Ft), Joker venom(Jv).

And most of the other poisons due to constant exposure since he was 9, also when he was younger there were no antidotes for Ft and Jv so he learned how to ride them out without a sound. (You can't tell me it hasn't fucked him up somehow, like a 9 y/o being constantly exposed to these things HAS to have some consequences and while he has his immunity I also think he has extreme anxiety( like all the bats a.k.a. Bat paranoia) and constant panic attacks(next headcanon))

Dick Grayson is a master at controlling his body.

Besides the fact that he probably learned acrobatics before he could walk and was a stage performer(always smiled even if the performance got off the rails) I also think he has taught himself complete control of his body due to far too many close calls. He learned to control each muscle individually for combat under high-stress situations(where he most needs that control). This had a side effect of him being able to control his face muscle/expressions and body language. He became the best actor there will ever be, because he can keep a smile on his face even if he is in excruciating pain, he can look completely calm and relaxed even though he is having a panic attack and the opposite is true as well he can look completely terrified even though he is amused. Because of this you need to know him extremely well to tell if he's in distress(the only people so far are Alfred, Damian and Slade(he's obsessed))

Anyway if you want more of the headcanon's just say, Nightwing is one of my favourite characters I can rant about him much longer.

[blackypanther9]

M/n learning Voodoo Magic – Father!Alastor x Son!Reader

(Art belongs to their rightful owner!)

TAGLIST: @l0liamk @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @moiravim @meg-giry1 @wen01203

Words: 1 406

It had been days that Alastor started to act weird. M/n noticed that his Father tried to hide something from him. The 12 year old boy saw how frustrated the man started to get.

Just what got his Father so on edge ?

One night the boy decided to spy on his Dad. He snuck into the Basement, after Alastor, without being seen. He hid in the shadows and watched as the Radio Host seemed to prepare a shrine and a circle around it. He took a book and read ancient words out loud, as he finished, he waited.

....Nothing happened.

“Oh, Applesauce ! Not again !”, Alastor cursed in anger.

He blew out the candles and smacked the book on the floor, grumbling in anger, then left. After he was gone, M/n came out of his hiding spot and he took a look at the book, lightening up the candles again.

M/n read the words out loud, to understand them better, as they were in old latin, it seemed. He didn’t even notice that he performed a ritual for Voodoo powers.

As the boy finished the spell, all lights went out and M/n stood all alone in the dark, for a while. Then he heard a whooshing sound from behind him. M/n whipped around, slightly scared.

“H-Hello ? W-who is there ?”, the boy asked, scared.

Suddenly he spotted a pair of green glowing eyes. M/n shook in fear. The candles lit up again and the boy blinked a few times, then he looked again and gasped, taking multiple steps back, from the thing he saw.

It was a shadow that looked just like M/n, with green glowing eyes.

“W-who are y-you ?”, M/n stuttered out.

The shadow chirped in amusement and pointed at the floor. M/n looked down and was shocked as he saw, that he had no shadow of his own anymore. The boy looked at the entity.

“So...you are my shadow and I made you come to life ?”, the 12 year old asked.

The shadow chirped happily and nodded. M/n was amazed. So that was what his Papa tried to do all this time. The boy felt a bit smug at that moment. He succeeded in that first !

“What’s your name ?”, the boy asked.

The shadow shook its head and pointed at M/n, trying to tell him, that he can name them.

“Oh...you don’t have one....then I’ll call you...Benicio !”

The shadow chirped and smiled, green light leaving its mouth. M/n giggled and then he heard the Basement door creak. M/n eyes widened.

“Turn out the candles, we need to hide !”, M/n whispered.

Quickly the shadow blew out the candles and then grabbed M/n and pulled him into a dark corner of the Basement. The lights were turned on and Alastor entered again. He looked around.

“Cher ? Are you down here ?”, he called softly.

M/n stayed dead silent for a while and his Papa sighed, then rubbed his temple.

“I need sleep...now I am imagining my Son in the Basement at night...”, Alastor muttered and left again, turning the lights off.

The boy let out a breath, he didn’t know he was holding and turned to smile at his shadow. It smiled back at him.

“Crisis averted. Now...how do we get to my room, without Papa noticing ?”

The shadow chirped and then touched M/n, which made the boy gasp, it was cold. Then everything went black and M/n felt the ground shift, then he was suddenly in his room. He looked around in awe and then turned to his shadow with a big smile.

“That was awesome !”, M/n said happily.

The shadow chirped happily and then vanished, not long later M/n heard footsteps and a knock on his door.

“Mon petit (My little one) ? Are you in there ?”

“I am Papa !”

“Can I come in ?”

“Antre (Come in) !”, M/n said in creole.

M/n heard Alastor chuckle as he opened the door.

“You studied creole, mon petit ?”

“Yes ! You told me to study, so you can teach me better !”, M/n replied and held up the book, Alastor gave him a while ago.

The boy was in his Pajamas already, ready to go to sleep. His Papa chuckled again with a wide smile, then he ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Mwen fyè, Pitit gason. (I’m proud, Son.)”

“Mèsi, Papa, sa vle di anpil. (Thank you, Papa, that means a lot.)”

Alastor smiled warmly at his Son and then sat down on his bed. M/n soon enough slipped under the covers.

“So...anything you need before I go to sleep ?”, the Radio Host asked.

“Maybe a story about Grandma and you ?”, M/n asked.

Alastor chuckled, but nodded.

“Alright, Cher.”

Alastor told his Son about the first time he and his Mother cooked together, which was chaotic, because Alastor almost cut himself, trying to chop as fast as his Mother. She almost had a heart attack as he almost hurt himself and scolded him to be careful. He was five the first time he wanted to cook with her. Then he only got the job of washing the vegetables for a few weeks and his Mother taught him how to properly chop vegetables for the future.

As he was done with telling M/n his memory, the boy was already asleep. The Radio Host smiled and got up, kissed the top of M/n’s head and then left his Son’s room, went into his own, got ready for bed and went to sleep too.

-Days later-

The Radio Host was angry and irritated. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t reach out to the entity that could allow him to own Voodoo! He mastered everything his Mother knew, but he wished for more.

‘Maybe another time... M/n needs me...’

If Alastor would have known that he constantly said only one word wrong, he would be ripping his hair out...

While he was in the Basement, cleaning everything up, M/n was with his shadow in a small conversation. The boy sat on his bed, while the shadow just looked at him from the wall.

“So...do you need anything to get stronger, so you can perform more tricks ?”, M/n asked.

The shadow chirped softly and nodded.

“What do you need ?”

The shadow made a thinking face and then shaped carefully into different things. M/n tried to watch it carefully.

It showed food, rest, practices from the book it was summoned from, training with M/n and...ghosts ? No wait...souls !

“You need...souls ?”, M/n asked gently.

The shadow shape shifted back into itself and made a so – so gesture with its hand.

“Wait...you don’t need them, but you CAN take them to grow stronger ?”, M/n tried.

The shadow nodded.

“Does the food have to be real or also a shadow ? Show two fingers for real and one for shadow.”

The shadow showed two and M/n nodded gently.

“Then I will try to sneak some in for you.”

The shadow chirped happily and nodded.

“I think the book will be an issue. I can’t sneak into the Basement and take it from Papa without him noticing, but I can’t tell him about you either. Not...not now at least.”

The shadow waved its hand and made a small noise that sounded like a scoff, telling him that he should leave that worry to them.

M/n, in the end, did sneak food in each time, without his Father really noticing. He was in awe that his shadow could actually CONSUME the dishes. M/n could feel how his shadow got stronger, even if it was just a little bit. His shadow was soon enough strong enough to part from the boy and it stalked Alastor a lot. Each time the Radio Host gave up for the night in the Basement, it snatched the book Alastor used and M/n practiced all sorts of Voodoo Magic in the book, which made them both a bit stronger each time he got better and more skilled.

The spells weren’t much and nothing too powerful, but for small card tricks and quick escapes it was enough.

The 12 year old had a feeling that the both of them will get along just fine. Just...when will he tell his Father about this ?

Oh well, for now he didn’t have to tell him anything...

Masterlist HERE !

[mistwalkers-menagerie]

“Trevathan?”

“Yes, Caesar?”

“What is “tooth” in latin?”

“Dens, Caesar.”

Proximus frowns. “Dense? Same as "stupid"?”

Trevathan knew if he chuckled now, the Caesar would misinterpret it, even if it was in genuine delight and not ridicule.

“No, Caesar, it's uh... different spelling.”

“Hmpf.”

Proximus strokes his injured finger as you sit at his feet, Sylva in the process of removing your muzzle to give you a drink of water. Then the Caesar smirks, one fang showing.

“Dens is a fine name for her, yes?”

So this thingy wanted to come out. Proximus comes across you after you fled your colony due to "philosophical differences" concerning apes. After a rocky start, you got what you left for. Well, more than you bargained for. You got a mouth on you Proximus pretends he doesn't care for, but you're pretty much the only person who keeps him on his toes. You're just confused because you have Stockholm Syndrome or some shit.

If you like unhealthy power dynamics and Doofus Maximus' cocky ass, this might interest you. Will contain dark themes, topics and descriptions. I'm a pantser so I wing most of my fics, I feel like Dead Dove isn't warranted as of yet, but it very well might be so you've been warned

[agatharkn3ss]

Salem Seven will be back, and with some answers

Despite what Jac suggested about Salem Seven being dead, I strongly believe they are important and we will see them again. Their story will not only make a lot of sense, but also tie up quite a few threads - especially the question whether or not Agatha walked the road before.

As explained in episode 5, when Agatha murdered her mother’s coven, she spared their young children. They then became “a feral, hive-minded coven bend on revenge”. Yes, we could easily assume their revenge was for killing their mothers, but I think there is more to it – especially the part on how they became so feral.

We see that there is this maternal/mentor side to Agatha, all the way back to her babysitting the twins in Wandavision. Of course, the kids might have had fathers, but even Kathryn said in her recent interview that the show really doesn’t mention men because witches have been so independent. The theme that a witch needs her coven is strong in the show, so I think it would make sense if Agatha, despite being hurt by her mother and the original witches, still sought to be the head of her own coven.

So whether she took care of the children after the events, or grew up alongside them (she was one of the coven’s kids too, after all), she probably held a prominent role in their lives and used this as an opportunity to manipulate the children so that they became her own coven once they grew up. They probably didn’t even know Agatha was the one who killed their mothers.

Eventually, something made them want to walk the Witches Road. I wonder if it was the death of Nicholas Scratch or maybe something else. But it was enough for them to summon it. I think Rio was in the coven by that time too (my theory she was called to Agatha during her attempted execution, when the witches chanted at her in Latin “Death to unnatural monster”) – which may be why summoning the Witches Road worked. However, it didn’t look like anything like the road we are seeing in the show, because “The road changes for the coven”, reflecting the intentions of the witches that walk it. I would argue there even was a daylight (“our” road is perpetual night because that’s how Billy imagined it, he’s fascinated by the meaning of the moon phases, as seen in his room, spell book and outfit – I think this is also why his tarot card for “what’s missing?” was none other than “The Sun”. I don’t think Billy is knowingly controlling the Road – but we know his intentions are really powerful)

Unfortunately, the Road does not work out for the Salem coven – I think as they go into the first trial, they actually fail it – I would venture a guess it was because Agatha was trying to cut corners as usual. But because Rio was there and she is essentially “a tourist”, she got both her and Agatha out, abandoning the rest of the coven. So the Salem Seven didn’t die but became trapped on the Witches Road because the coven was now incomplete (remember “together or not at all”). That’s what eventually made them so feral and angry at Agatha for all of this.

I think this is exactly why Lilia so pointedly told them in ep.7 “You may not know this about the road, but when you succesfully complete a trial - like I just did - it’s not a good idea to overstay your welcome. Usually, something terrible happens.” I think her message had multiple meanings all at once:

she was telling them they are going to regret pursuing her in her own trial, and

she knew they failed their own trials before, and

a message specifically to Vertigo (cicada) – more on this later.

So then the missing witches become known as this “Salem Seven”, while Agatha perpetuates her half-truth that she survived the Witches Road. And if her intentions for the road really were to bring Nicholas back, that would also explain why she lets people believe that she simply traded her own child for Darkhold. With that lie she can pretend that she had some level of control over the events. But in reality, she failed to save her son because of her own flaws/cowardice and abandoned her own coven in the process.

This brings me back to “our” Witches Road. The Spirit trial has always been a point of contention, particularly because a lot of the trial elements felt inconsistent to the previous one (even to the point where the aspect ratio didn’t change) and the objective of the trial just made no sense. But the road leading to the trial was purple and the blood moon did mean it was a spirit trial (talking to the dead). So in that sense, I think it was Agatha’s trial.

HOWEVER, right before the witches land their broomsticks, Vertigo stands in their way and releases her cicadas onto them. Later on, we see Agatha pulling things out of her hair and I think there must have been cicadas entangled in there. So I believe Vertigo made her way inside. And because technically she was part of Agatha’s coven (just not this coven), the trial was actually hers to pass – that is why the task is to “punish Agatha”. It’s still Agatha’s trial but in that sense where the word “trial” is less about “testing”, but more about “being judged in court”.

Edit as I don't think I made it clear: I believe if Vertigo didn't hijack it, the trial would've been about Agatha communicating with Nicholas and getting her closure that way. Notice how he does appear but only once Alice blasts Evanora

This is also why Agatha doesn’t get her powers at the end of it, even though they passed (and we know they passed because the exit appears and the road colour changes). It was Vertigo who is going to get her wish out of this one – most likely to keep with the theme if imprisoning Agatha on the Road (remember Evanora said “you must finish the witches road without Agatha” – a fitting punishment to someone who did the same to their own coven first).

EDIT: It occurred to me this could have also been a message from Evanora directly to Vertigo - just telling her to finish the road and leave Agatha with her.

That is why I think Lilia meant her message for Vertigo too. I think she probably knows that Vertigo survives (only 5 bodies are impaled at the end, so I think the Owl and Vertigo as cicada escape – this is also shown on the tarot card) and she warns her not to “overstay her welcome” on the Road and leave. I think in the future Vertigo will finally confront Agatha, calling her a coward for leaving them, before trying to imprison her (referenced by Lilia in “when she calls you a coward, hit the deck!”).

What do you think?