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suuuupernovaaa · 2 years

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‘awlie [ʔaw.ˈli.ɛ] adv. once (in the past)

Anonymous Request: Maybe one with reader who was an avatar that did the consciousness transfer and while moving some of her stuff from the lab to stay with the clan, Neteyam finds a picture of her with an ex boyfriend that she's kept and thinks that maybe she still likes human men or that maybe he's unattractive/ugly to her?

1,680 words

Even though I was used to being in this body, I was only used to being in it in a temporary sense. There was always a deadline, and when I closed my eyes, I would wake up in my human body.

Now, when I close my eyes, I stay here, in this avatar, as one of the Na'vi. I know I'm lucky to be one of the few who even has an avatar, and one of the even fewer to pass through the eye of Ewya and return.

Watching my human form be lowered into the ground and buried was... weird. It was exactly like attending my own funeral, and it felt like I should be mourning, but instead, I was rejoicing.

I was ready to be one of The People, to live in Home Tree, to learn everything I possibly could with the new hours in the day I'd been given. To spend every spare moment with Neteyam.

There were just a few things I needed from the lab first, and Neteyam had graciously offered to come along.

I couldn't bring much with me, but there was a journal I wanted, and a small photo album with pictures my parents had brought from earth.

It was a quick trip, in and out, and as we exited the lab, Neteyam flipped carefully through the photo book that was dwarfed by his hands. He asked me questions about my parents, our family back on earth, and as he turned near the last page, a picture fell on the ground.

It was of me and David, years ago as teenagers together in the lab, our arms around each other's shoulders, smiling at the camera.

He stopped walking, and handed it to me.

I took it and smiled. David and I hadn't spoken in a while, especially since I'd met Neteyam, but it was nice to see the picture; he'd been my only friend for a long time, and something more than that for a little while, but we'd been better off as friends in the end.

"This is David. We grew up together, in the lab. We sort of dated for a while, too. He's really nice, you'd like him."

Neteyam handed me the photo album, and I tucked it away in the back.

I extended my hand to him, and he took it. "Ready?"

He smiled at me. "Ready."

Though it was an evening of celebration, welcoming Y/N as one of the people with food, drink, music and dancing, Neteyam had something weighing on him.

He could not get the picture of Y/N and David out of his mind. He tried to remember if she had ever mentioned him before, but it didn't seem that she had.

Why had she smiled so fondly at that picture? Where was David now? Did she miss her human life, was she having regrets about leaving her human body behind?

If David was still in the picture, would she have chosen differently? Was Neteyam a second choice behind someone he didn't even know?

He knew he was being foolish, but there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Y/N had given up an entire human life for him, and for his people, but he could not shake the feeling he got when she had taken that picture gently into her hands and smiled.

She pulled him away from his thoughts to join in on a dance together, but he still felt uneasy.

Eventually, I felt a little overwhelmed with the celebration. It had been going on for hours, and even though it was in my honor, I still needed to get away - just for a few minutes.

I pulled Neteyam from the dancing, up through home tree, to the large, embroidered hammock we were now sharing together. Even though we were not mated yet, there was really no need for us to live separately, not when we would be finding our way to each other every night anyway.

Sitting down, I pulled Neteyam down with me, and took his hands into mine.

"Tell me what's bothering you, and I swear to god, if you say nothing-"

Neteyam cut me off, "David."

I leaned back, wrinkling my brow. "David? My ex-boyfriend David?"

He leaned over, grabbing the photo album where it lay. He flipped right to the back, and pulled out the photo of me and David, handing it over to me.

Holding it tightly in my hand, I looked up at him.

"Did this upset you? That I have this?"

He shook his head. "No, I... wonder if you feel like you made a mistake."

A little jealously, I could understand - after all, a lot of men would be bothered if their woman kept a picture of herself and an ex around. But he thought I was regretting my life choices?

That was absurd.

"You mean, choosing to stay as one of The People?"

He looked to the side, clearly a little embarrassed. "Choosing us. Choosing, um, me."

I tried my very hardest not to laugh. It started as a small smile, and then it spread, and even though I was trying my best not to laugh, a little bit of a chuckle escaped.

"Oh, Neteyam, I'm sorry!" I got onto my knees, crawling forward towards him, putting my hands on his shoulders. "It's just, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard! You don't realize that I fell in love with you the first time we met? And I thought I was being ridiculous, that you could never love me, you could never choose some Sky Person to be your mate and... and the first time you held my hand. Well, hold on."

Along with the photo album, I'd brought a journal of my last few years on Pandora. I flipped through until I found the page I was looking for, and began to read aloud.

"I went on a hunt today, for the first time. I didn't catch anything but, it was still really fun, and Neteyam was really patient with me. On the way back, he held my hand. I can't describe how happy it made me. I never thought he would think of me that way, but he squeezed my hand before we said goodbye, and it almost seemed like he wanted to kiss me."

I flipped a few pages forward.

"I told Neteyam I love him today, and he said it back! I can't believe it. I don't understand what I could have done to deserve this. I feel happy all the time. I dream about him at night, and I think about him first thing when I wake up. I have never felt like this before. Holy shit, I'm so in love."

A few more pages. I was too nervous to look up at Neteyam now.

"Tonight, I'm going to ask Ewya to allow me to live out the rest of my days in my Avatar. It feels really strange, knowing this could be my last day as a human. I feel sad, in a way. I think I'd feel more sad if mom and dad were alive, but it feels like Neteyam and his family are my family now. He hasn't asked me to be his mate but, I think he might want that. Either way, I know I belong with The People. I hope I don't fucking die."

I closed the book, and handed it to him, finally finding the courage to look into his eyes. "It's all in here, Neteyam. David was a friend, but I certainly wouldn't have given my life up for him. And, to be honest, I didn't do it just for you. I feel like I belong here. I feel really happy. And I can't imagine my life any other way."

Neteyam stared at me, his mouth hanging open slightly, his eyes a little misty. Finally, he reached out and put his hand on my cheek, and I leaned into his touch.

"I do want you to be my mate, Y/N. I didn't want to... overwhelm you, by asking too soon."

This time, I didn't have to try and stifle the laugh that rose quickly in my throat and out past my lips. "Neteyam! If you had asked me the day we met, I might have said yes." I grabbed the journal from his hands, and opened it to one of the first pages. I handed it back to him. "Read it. Out loud."

He rolled his eyes, but brought the small journal close to his face. "I met the Sully family today. Neytiri and Jake are intense, but the kids are all so nice. Kiri is my age, Neteyam just a few months older, and I hope I get to see them again. Especially Neteyam. He's so handsome, and so strong... I have a massive crush on him. Obviously nothing could ever happen, with me being human but, wow. I've never met anyone so incredible."

I took it from his hands before he could read anything more embarrassing than that. He playfully tried to get it back, but I held it behind my back and as he leaned over, captured him in a kiss.

He relaxed, giving up chase, and wrapped his arms around me.

"Do you see now, how much I have always loved you?" I whispered when I pulled away.

He pressed another quick, chaste kiss to my lips. "I should never have doubted you. If I had a... what do you call this?"

With no word in his language for it, I told him, "Journal."

"If I had a journal, and I had written about the day we'd met... I would have written that my life changed that day. That I met the most beautiful woman on the planet, and my brother had teased me that night that I was going to try to mate with a Sky Woman. And he was right."

I sighed. "I wish you had a journal."

He laughed. "Me too."

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar 2 #avatar twow #neteyam sully #avatar the way of water

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stonemags · 1 year

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SUGAR BABY AU

Ch.4 Leeway

Characters in this series: Reader, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Carol Danvers, Darcy Lewis, Maria Hill, Kate Bishop, Pepper Potts, Valkyrie, Shuri

Summary: As a good friend you are responsible for people closest to you, right? But can you handle it all at once? For now, your friends are a priority.

Warnings: age gap relationships, sugar mommy/sugar baby relationships, swearing, aggression, cheating, all story is gonna be +18, you are responsible for your own ass.

Word count: 6556

A/N: This chapter took a while and im greatfull for all your patience. This story is a proces and i go through it while writing, it growns on me with every sentance and page. Im happy i can share it with you. All ideas, theories, comments are welcome. Dont steal or claim my stuff as yours or im going to bite your ass off. Enjoy!

As always thanks to @charturnus for editing, helping to write and posting this fic. It wouldn't be here without you.

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 4

The next morning. You find Darcy occupied with her phone, laughing at something and scrolling down TikTok. You can tell which side of the platform she is on, and you smile under your breath, hearing the “woooo I’m mentally ill” sound, that both of you love. You gather yourself and enter the living room. You feel guilty, it wasn't right for you to speak to her this way, or say those things. Your opinions should never get between you and your friends, no matter what they do. God, you would help them bury a body without a question, why would you be a bitch about the way they decide to go in their life. That's not your place to say so, and you see it now, after a mostly sleepless night. You need to set things right, you need to apologize. You need to-

“Is this one of your ADHD things, when you just stand in the middle of the room and have a full-on conversation with yourself?” Darcy's voice breaks you out of your reverie, and you look at her with shocked eyes. You get lost sometimes. I guess it was one of those moments.

“Yeah… I haven't taken my meds yet. Sorry about that.” You hang your head down and move closer to the couch that is occupied by Darcy and at least 5 blankets. Why would anybody need 5 blankets on one couch? It's not even that cold. Yes, it's November, but still, it's pretty warm for this time of the year.

“You are doing it again.” This time she touches your shoulder to bring you out and ground you, in reality a little bit more.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It's okay, what's bothering you?” She knows what, of course, she knows. The whole argument happened not more than 7 hours ago. God, you don't deserve her.

“Darcy…. About yesterday…” You start fidgeting with your hands. Clearly uncomfortable, you are being eaten up from the inside by guilt. The fuzzy blanket that you are sitting on provides comfort with its texture.

“About yesterday… I…”

“I know.” And you know she does, but she needs to hear it. You turn to the side to look at her, taking her hand into yours. You two were never touchy with each other. This is the kind of friendship where you would rather die than hug your friend, but you still would die for her in seconds. The older you two got, the closer you were, and the relationship between you two is far more mature now, you both are.

“Still, even if you do, it wasn't acceptable for me to say those things. I don't have the knowledge of how it looks from your side. I have my own issues, I shouldn’t put that on you or attack you because of them. It wasn't right, and it won't happen again. I'm not going to judge any of you and if I'm going to be confused about anything I'm just going to ask. I was ignorant, angry, tired and rude. Nothing excuses my behaviour. I'm sorry Darcy.”

She shifts her position and gets really close to you. You feel her arms around your neck and her face hidden in the crook of your neck. She feels warm, like home or fireplace, like the fuzzy blanket under your palm providing you with comfort. It takes you a second, but you practically scoop her up in your arms, hiding her even more in your chest. You stay like that for a little while and once you start pulling away you feel her grabbing you tighter. You don't let go.

“I'm sorry too.” You want to interrupt her, tell her that there is nothing to apologize for, that you were in the wrong, but she speaks again.

“I said some shitty stuff yesterday. I don't want to talk to you that way. Even if I was a little bit right.” you both laugh at it, and the world gets a little lighter. The heavy feeling on your shoulders, it's always there, it always lingers, but now you don't carry it by yourself. When you finally pull apart, both of your eyes are a little bit glassy, you both notice it, but nobody will say anything.

“You need to repay me, though. For the things you said.” Of course. You know that she is just using the situation and that you are actually forgiven, but you play the game either way.

“You have one wish. Shoot.”

“And no saying no?”

“No saying no.”

“I'm going to set you up on a date. And before you interrupt me…” You were actually going to interrupt her.

“You have to be there for at least 30 minutes, and then I'm not going to set you up with anyone ever again.”

“Deal.” She looks at you like you’re dumb. This kind of look that tells you she is not done. You take a dramatic breath in.

“What else…?” She smiles and as much as you will never admit it, you want her happy.

“Today Carol is having a small party with clients, friends, and business partners. It’s Bridgerton themed. You are going to be there, and you are going to like it. And no, you don't have to be there from the start, I know how you feel about all these business conversations. The party starts around 6pm and is going to last till 11pm at least. After that it's just going to be us, Maria, Kate, Pepper, Carol, Natasha and Wanda.” Hearing the last two names pulls a reaction from you. It’s one of the most dramatic eye rolls you've ever done. Darcy is laughing at you at this point, and you can't help but join her. You are not happy about any of that, but at the same time, you owe it to her.

“Yes ma’am.” The blanket beneath your fingers becomes overwhelming, so you start playing with your rings.

“Good girl, now go because you have classes in half an hour.” She cares, and that's one of the ways she shows you that she does.

“Also, don't worry about your regency outfit! I’ve already taken care of it.” Your best friend tells you, not moving from the couch, as you stand up to take care of breakfast. She really gets on your nerves sometimes, but to be honest, you didn't even think about the outfit. You are grateful, even if it’s her that put you in this situation.

“Actually, I’m not going to uni today.” That's shocking news for her, and you get why she is surprised.

“I also called off my shift at the bar.” Well that's a double shock, and it's surprising that she can take it. She gets off the couch and walks up to you, checking your temperature.

“Are you sick? Wait, you’re not dying, are you?” You love that dramatic bitch.

“No, actually, we need to call a family meeting today.”

‘’Oh,’’ Darcy breathes, realizing that the situation is serious. Only a few times before the meeting was called, this was the day Carol was introduced to all of you, or when Maria finally came out. This is an emergency only situation, and you are pretty sure that this one is justified.

“Wait, family meeting? Someone died?” Maria’s sleepy voice flows through the room. Her hair is messy. Her silk robe flows nicely around her body. You always admired her confidence, and she is surprisingly kind for such an attractive person. Her hair is freshly cut, shoulder-length is the most comfortable for her, at least that's what she always says when they get too long. You like that about her, the way she knows what she wants, when and how. Even more, you don't understand why she would give control to anyone else.

“Nobody died. Kate’s home?” You say.

“Yeah, she came back around 4am.” Darcy's answer is followed by a big yawn. All of you can use a break today, and a little bit more sleep.

‘’Could you please wake Kate up?’’ You say, turning to Maria.

‘’I’ll get started on pancakes in the meantime.’’

She moves from her spot by the door and hurries to Kate's room. It's not going to be easy, but the longer you are putting off the conversation, the harder it's going to get.

Preparing breakfast takes you little to no time, everything always goes by fast when you have Darcy on your side. You two work in perfect harmony, managing to cook, set up the table and even squeeze fresh orange juice for all of you. The scent of sweet citrus filled the whole room, bright sunlight falls aggressively through ajar blinds. Crispy air hits you as you move to close the window, trying to get rid of the burned smell of the last failed pancake. You are still going to eat it, you hate wasting food.

Darcy is on your right, sitting cross-legged on a high chair with a messy bun and an oversized sweater stolen from Carol. She looks peaceful and warm. Maria sits half naked in front of you. She is always really comfortable in her own skin and it shows. Long pyjama pants and a bra are her go to outfits in the morning. It suits her. When Kate comes out of her room, the first thing that you acknowledge is her wet hair, indicating she just had a shower and dark circles under her eyes. She moves smoothly closer to where you all wait for her and as she moves behind you, she stops in her tracks for a second to wrap her arms around your torso from behind. She hides her head in the crook of your neck, and all you can do is put your hand smoothly through her hair, hugging her closer with one arm.

“I missed you.” She whispers just for you to hear, and you feel tiredness and pain of the past busy weeks in her voice. It fills you with love, care but also anger for not being able to change it for her, or rather respecting the peace she chooses to live her life on. She needs to learn, and you will be here to catch her if she falls. And that's exactly why family meetings are so needed.

“I missed you too, hun.” Her smile makes you happy and breaks your heart at the same time. You have been in situations when someone was trying to open your eyes, and you were taking out anger and pain on the messenger. Honestly, there is nothing she could do to push you away, but you know some part of her will hate you after this.

“So what's the family meeting about? It sounds serious, you even took a day off.”

“Let's just eat for now. We're gonna talk later.”

****

You wash the dishes after breakfast while girls talk with each other on the couch. They offered to clean, but you needed a second for yourself to muster up the courage to tell her the truth. Giving yourself time is needed, but also creates moments like this. Wet sponge in your right hand, plate in your left, and your phone laying heavy in your pocket with evidence. You feel it digging into your leg through the material, kind of like pushing you to stop procrastinating the inevitable, so you do.

You sit down on an ottoman that matches the rest of the couch set and as you sigh heavily, all the attention is drawn to you. Nobody’s rushing you to open up, it's one of the many rules of the meetings. They all wait for you, ready to provide comfort at all times. You lock your eyes with Kate’s, and as you almost always keep your posture and face up, your eyes water up a little, but not enough for them to notice.

“Go on y/n. Lay it on me.” She is the youngest of all of you, but sometimes she is more mature than all of you combined.

“Valkyrie is cheating on you.” You can see in her eyes that she thinks it's a joke, another dumb idea of yours to separate the two of them because you don't think her girlfriend deserves her, so you continue.

“I was at the bar, had my shift with Steve, she was there. There was a whole group of people, God, all of them drunk out of their minds. She came to me and told me that you’re not texting her back. She wasn't too nice about it.” You take a deep breath in and grab anything you have close to you to stop yourself from standing up and pacing around the room. The plastic scrunchie provides some stimulation, so you look at her again.

“At some point, she started kissing some girl that was in that group. I don't even know if they know each other.” Kate just listens, not taking her eyes off of you. You notice her lips quivering a little, but it's so slight that you’ve almost missed it.

“Shuri was there, she can vouch for this.”

“Wait, you saw your ex!?” Darcy jumps in but back off as soon as she can catch herself going off-topic, that's not important right now and she knows it.

“Show me.” Two words you hoped you wouldn't hear. Speaking about it is one thing, but seeing it with her own eyes will be different. As the last resort, you try to play dumb, pretending not to know what she means.

“This is far too important for you not to have the proof. Just show me y/n, I’m a big girl.” So you do. When you hand her the phone, it’s already opened in your gallery. It's the last thing you recorded. The video starts with Shuri drinking her martini and talking to you about something happening at her university. However, as soon as you zoom into the group, she falls silent.

‘’Oh fuck,’’ The girls can hear Shuri swearing, combined with your heavy breathing through the speaker in your phone. The scene ends with Valkyrie standing up and dragging the girl behind her into the bathroom area and Shuri’s voice saying “y/n don't do it”.

“What did you do?” Maria asks what everybody is wondering. You answer her question, but all you say is for Kate and only for her.

“I didn't do anything. I ended my shift and went home.” She believes you, you are always honest with her, always.

“I wanted to tell you right after, but this is not something to do over the phone. Maybe I should have just found you at your job, I'm sorry but-” She's interrupting your explanation with the softest voice she has.

“It's okay, I know you are more of a face to face person.” The scrunchie is long forgotten on the floor, and Kate's hands are secured strongly in yours. You caress her palm with your thumb, providing as much comfort through the touch as you can, but she leans back on the couch. You expected anger, sadness, a breakdown or denial, but not this.

“I mean, she was awful either way, right?” Both Darcy and Maria jump in with copious nodding and approval of that statement.

“I guess it's for the better, at least I have a good reason to end it now.” With that she…. smiles? Something is wrong, something is very wrong.

For the next 5 minutes your roommates rumble about how awful Val is, how much better Kate will be without her and how happy they are that she feels that way. Kate jumps in from time to time, smiling and telling them how right they are, and that's when you can't take it anymore. You start laughing, and it takes everybody off guard, to be honest it takes you off guard too. You don't explain anything to anybody as you stand up, take your hurt friend by her hand, and announce that you will be back in a couple of hours for dinner. You are much stronger than Kate, so manhandling her a little into her room is easy.

“Get dressed, put some training clothes on and take your wallet. I'm taking your car keys, and I'm waiting for you in the car park. Don't make me wait too long.”

“Y/n I’m fine! What are you even doing? I don't understand.” You hug her really close, face buried in your chest, her arms hanging loose on her sides not really knowing what to do with them, but even when she’s not reciprocating you don’t let her go. Your left hand goes all the way around her waist, grabbing her side, while the right hand keeps her head close to you. Your touch feels hungry for closeness with her, while you almost shield her whole body with yours. When you let go, you grab her face into your hands, look deeply into her glassy eyes and smile with the most honest love you ever felt to someone. This kind of love is different from anything else you ever had. You imagine that's the way your brother feels when he looks at you. At least he did when you were younger.

“You’re not Kate. And it's okay.” You kiss her forehead and tell her once again to get ready before you disappear from her room.

***

The ride to the location takes you around 25 minutes. The whole trip, Kate is trying to get you to tell her where you’re going or what this whole thing is about, but you keep your mouth shut, which makes her more irritated by the minute. It's good, you need her to be irritated, you need her to be mad, and soon enough everything will become clear to why.

You arrive at a big open space with one building that's in poor condition. Vines have taken over its walls, invading cement and binding everything together with nature. It’s a truly beautiful view if you can just stop for a second and try to understand what's in front of you. It's far, it's quiet, and it's your safe space, one of just the few that you have. You get out of the car, still not answering Kate's questions. She makes it harder for herself and as much as you get why she is doing it, you wish she would stop.

“What's that place? It looks like a squat.” She comments, and she sounds unnecessarily annoyed.

“This is a place where me and Shuri were meeting for most of the time. It's a safe place and a safe space.”

“Safe for what?”

“To be yourself.”

Your answer takes her a little bit off guard, you can see by the appearing wrinkles on her forehead that she really thinks about what you just said, and hopefully she will find some truth for herself in your words. She follows you into the building, you take out a bundle of keys, which is definitely too big, you don't even remember what half of them are for, you are pretty sure that some of them were found around here, never finding out their purpose, but the one that you need right now is easy to find. The red band on top of it makes it easy to spot. The word ‘’sanctuary’’ is hand-painted onto the key, and it fills you with warmth and gratitude that your last relationship ended up on good terms. You really appreciate having Shuri in your life, her and her family were nothing but good people to you, and you are glad to reciprocate anytime you can. You open a heavy looking lock and enter the building with Kate on your heels.

Inside it is really dark and scary looking, dust covers the floors, and various types of glass, wood and all kinds of materials can be found on the side of every wall. Used spray paint cans decorate one corner, making the whole place more alive because of their colours. They also create a nice contrast to the surrounding chaos. All cans are securely stacked in a pyramid shape. A skylight lights up the middle of the room in a theatrical way. You love this place to the bone.

As Kate looks around with a little disgust on her face she tries to appreciate you getting her out of the house, you collect some things from the locker and close it with a metallic clang.

“Here,” you say into her direction, getting closer to her with two jumpsuits in hand. She looks surprised, but gets the general idea of what you want from her. She is obliging even if she is not fully sure why you are both here, she’s too shaken up to put it all together. Putting on a brave face is one of her greatest strengths and weaknesses, but you know every little piece of her. At least most of them.

You start undressing while Kate is half ready with her suit on, you were always impressed with her physique. She’s the one who motivated you to go to the gym, taking you with her a couple of times gave you the kick-start that you needed to go on your own, you are grateful for that, not sure that she is aware of it. As you take off your shirt, you don't notice Kate's eyes lingering on your body. You are muscular it's hard not to be after putting so much work in at the gym, her eyes are tracing the tattoos on your body, from your legs up. You’re turned away from her, so she has a perfect view of your wide back. She isn’t sure why she’s staring, but it seems natural to do so, so she lets herself. As you turn around to face her, you zip up the suit to your waist, looking for a shirt you took with you. You don't want to ruin your nice clothes, that's why you asked Kate to pack something up herself as well. You look at her. She seems to be stuck for a moment, and her face is red.

“Are you okay?” You reach out to her, worried that she might be on the verge of crying because of her breakup, unaware that the reason for her state is completely different. Kate on the other hand is trying to understand what's happening to her. Nobody was ever as sweet to her as you, so protective and caring. Nobody held her like you do, nobody was interested in her in the way you are. In the beginning she was trying to figure out if that's your way of hitting on her, but after she got to know you a little bit she understood that it's just your nature. It didn't change the fact that she always feels special when you act protective over her or caring in any way. Late night texts telling her to get home safe, to remember about lunch, calling her love. Or just simply sitting down together and letting her talk while you listen. Just the way you let her be with you is enough to get some ideas in her head. She has been questioning for a long time now if she is attracted to you, but even if the answer is yes, your relationship has always been platonic, and she is aware of that.

“Yes, yes I am. Dress up, or you're going to get sick.” She stops the topic before you can ask her more questions, not wanting to fall into a hot mess in front of you.

After you both get dressed and leave your stuff secured in the locker, just in case, you take Kate's hand and tell her to follow you. Her palm is soft but cold to the touch, instinctively you start to rub her hand with your thumb to warm it up and comfort her a little, sensing her nervousness. She’s still playing with her hands, grabbing onto her jewellery and loose strands of fabric fraying off of the partially torn jumpsuit. Your touch seems to bring her a little bit more back into the present. You can hear her taking a big breath in when you soothe her hand, and it seems like her arms are starting to relax a little.

You moved further into the building, which leaves you in front of a massive, heavy looking reinforced door. Something straight out of the teen wolf series. As you open them, you are both hit with too much sunlight coming out of the skylights. Your eyes take a second to adjust and get past the sting of it, Kate tries to blink the pain away too. As soon as her vision is clear, she gets what all of this is about, and she doesn't know how to feel about it.

“Wha…what? Y/n I don't think it's necessary.” She comments as soon as she sees a table covered in lots of different kinds of mugs, plates, dishes, boxes and bottles. It's warmer here than anywhere else in the building, probably because of the sun coming through the windows. She understands now why the doors are so thick. She waits for your answer, but you leave her in silence. You move to the deep right corner of the room and grab two aluminium bats and two helmets secured in the covered box. Your weapon is strictly for looks, you are not going to participate in breaking today, this day is all about Kate and you need to focus on her.

“Take it.” She shakes her head, refusing to do so.

“Kate, take it, please.” She does see that you are being really serious about it. It feels heavy in her hands at first, but her muscle memory is trained on such a good level that it takes her just a minute to get used to the handle and balance of the bat.

“I don't need it. I know you think I'm sad and heartbroken but I'm not, okay? It's for the best and we both know it yn.” She pleads with you, it all seems really unnecessary for her.

“Kate..” you come close to her and put your free hand on her cheek. “ You are heartbroken, you are tired and you are sad, but most of all you are angry. I can see you holding your fist together every time someone mentions your mother.” Exactly the thing she does as soon as the words leave your mouth. “ I know that you feel betrayed by Val, it doesn't matter if you loved her or not. She abused you for so long, just as your mother. Dont hate me for it but I think you chose her for a reason.” She looks at you not believing your words, and takes a step back. Her eyes ask you what you mean by that and you know she felt a sting because of your assumption. You straighten out your posture and keep going, gambling your friendship in the name of her sanity.

“You have been controlled since your father died.”

“Stop.” Her voice is low but the tone of it is threatening.

“Your mother uses you as her personal project, to be honest I'm not sure if she was ever a real mother to you.” You continue not letting yourself back up no matter what. She needs this.

“I said stop.” Her voice is louder letting emotions take over a little.

“ Were you saying stop when Val hit you? Or when she was pouring alcohol in your system so she could take advantage of you? You didn’t deserve any of this” She is crying at this point and it pains you to see.

“All those times I was picking you up from her apartment seeing a new bruise on you, all those times when you got hell from your mother or from your girlfriend because you had to choose one and there were no other options in your life. This is not love Kate, it never was.”

“Nobody asked you to take care of me!!” She is screaming now and you decided to match her energy.

“BUT I DID! I was cleaning the fucking cuts, i was holding the ice bags and i had to watch you being broken everyday! I had to restrain myself of fucking her up everyday because of your feeling towards her!” Kate never knew about this, so that information is shocking, her head unfortunately for both of you took a defensive state so everything you say is taken personal. !!!

“ If that was such a fucking issue for you you could’ve just told me! I would never ask you for help if I knew!’ The bat in her hand is flying around, she always uses her hands while speaking so it's normal, in this situation though it's a little dangerous.

“It's not about me ! Its about you Kate, about people fucking you over and over again and you allowing them. It's about the fact that you are angry and you don't let yourself go!”

“I'M NOT ANGRY. I'M IN PAIN! AND THEY’VE PUT ME THERE” With that she delivers a first hit to the stack of plates. It's not in the center so plates end up falling from the table while breaking a couple of them. It's hard to aim when your face is covered in tears. You grab her arm before she can do a second strike stopping her mid flight. She tries to get out of your hold pushing you away with her other arm but you are one step ahead and you let go of your bat to grab both of her hands. You take her into a strong embrace letting her totally break down in tears. She cries, and it sounds like something she loved, someone she loves has died, maybe a part of her. Her voice is broken and you can hear her asking why, while you drop with her to the floor not letting go for even a second. She is still fighting to get out of your arms but you know that she is not fighting with you. You put your hand on her head closing any space left between you and you try to calm her crying a bit.

“I got you Kate… I'm right here with you, I'm not leaving…. ever. You can let go… just let go, I'm holding you.” And she does. She lets go of all the pain she feels at the moment, lots of memories coming back to her in a big feeling of chaos. It is hard for her to focus on one feeling, one problem, one pain so she grabs on to you tighter trying to ground herself in your touch. She starts paying attention to your fingers tracing patterns on her back, on your breathing being slow and deep and she tries to match it the best she can with her own. She focuses on the vibrations she can feel on her head that are coming from you humming her favorite melody. She finds peace in it and after a little while she slowly lets go of you to take a deep breath in and look at your face. You smile at her with the most genuine smile that she ever saw.

“Why are you so happy?” She is teasing you, you know she is.

“Because I'm proud of you Katie… so proud.” Your voice is low and soft, like the silence after the storm, like the moment when the rain stops falling abruptly after ripping the sky open with its force.

You help her stand up and that's the exact moment that she sees blood on your face. Her breath hitches while she points at your cheek. You touch the place and realize that while she hit the plates one piece of them got stuck in your skin. You take it out with almost no force and wipe already dried blood off of you.

“That's why we wear helmets.” You pick up the gear that was left on the floor, and help her put it safely on her head. After doing the same you hand her a bat and let her have an outlet for all of the forgotten feelings hidden inside of her for so long. Sounds are loud, rapid but so satisfying. Pieces of glass are landing on the walls, the floor and your clothing. At first she was shy with her hits, but you can see that she got more comfortable with the whole idea and actually put some work into it. You hold your cold bat in your left hand, it's only a prop, because today it's about Kate…. today is about Kate yn… You tell yourself trying to suppress any emotions you might have with this whole situation. Stacks of beer glasses seem to have your name written all over them. The bat you are holding gets a little bit heavier in your hand when you tighten your fist around it. Your veins become visible because of the pressure and your eyes are focused on the target, never looking away from it but holding yourself back as much as you can. Just when you start to feel yourself going into emotions, all of the glasses break in front of your eyes. A big hit delivered by Kate crashes them into pieces and powder, and with that she says that it's the last one that she needed. It brings you back out of your head and you nod at her, pointing to the door.

After leaving the room you give some time for Kate to change into her clothes while you are sweeping the floor to make it nice and tidy, mainly safe. You put down all the equipment and as you move into the room with a locker you can hear Kate humming the same melody you were trying to calm her down with. It warms you from the inside, the fact that you understand her and she trusts you enough to show you the most raw parts of herself. While you change Kate decided to look around some other rooms in the building. Some of them are holding more stuff to break, some of them have camping equipment, making her acknowledge that you probably spend some nights here. As you catch up to her you see that she found one of the most important places for you. The biggest room in this whole building has two chairs in the middle of it and 5 plastic boxes on the right side of it. Chairs are facing one wall, a wall covered in graffiti, with big sentences written in the middle of it. You lean on the entrance while Kate is trying to take it all in.

“What's that? Ver- Verba Vo…” “Verba Volant Scripta Manent. Spoken words fly away, written words remain.” You explain to her, trying to get her to understand what this place is about. “And what's all over that?” “All the reasons why me and Shuri were coming here. Tony Stark, Loki, work, even when I was arguing with you guys.” You laugh a little at the memory. “Even your mom.” You see her go closer to the wall as she eyes your mothers name written on the wall in the most chaotic way she ever saw. She puts her hand on the cold concrete and touches it lightly, collecting some dirt on her fingers by accident. She doesn't seem to care though. She turns with glossy eyes to look at you and a second later you are holding her in your arms. She is not angry anymore, but sad. Tears flow out while you hold her and allow her to feel all the emotions at once. She doesn't have to pretend with you, she never should. She lets you go and look at your face. Her cold hand lands on your cheek as she is trying to take care of you, leaving some of the dirt on your skin. It throws you off guard for a second because you didn't realize you were crying with her. As soon as you do you whip off the tears that escaped and hand her spray can from one of the plastic boxes.

“Write Katie, everything that's on your shoulders, write it out of you. It will stay here, and you will move on without it.” “Verba Volant Scripta Manent.” She repeats your mantra butchering latin pronunciation, making you laugh.

“Exactly.” You give her a nod and encourage her to start letting go of all the things that are in her heart. She is a little shy at first but gets a hold of it really quickly. She writes dates, names, words like work, comfort, cheating, fear. With each word she seems to be lighter and you enjoy the view. Carefully she writes everything down avoiding your drawing, your motto, which you really appreciate. As she finishes her work she takes a couple of steps back and enjoys the art of it. You join her, kiss the top of her head and take out of the box the last can, red one to put one last statement. She watches you really carefully as you go to her part of the wall and above everything she has written, you spray a big red word, saying “Rebirth”. As you turn around, a little bit dirty and tired, you feel happiness filling you in as she is smiling at you, in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

After closing up everything and making sure that the whole place is secured and tidy you make your way to the car. Kate is surprised to see an emotional hangover setup at the back of her car. Bottle of water, her favorite snack and tissues waiting for her, set down with love and care. It always amazes her how you can think in the future. There were countless situations in both your lifes when something unusual, tragic or just really out of nowhere came up and you are always ready for it. At least you seem to be. You are not talking much to each other while going back, no words needed between both of you. Kate can sense that it took a hold on you too so she provides comfort by playing with your hair on the back of your neck while you drive.

“I texted her.” Kates breaks the silence for a second, her voice barely above whisper.

“What did you say?”

“I broke up with her, I officially ended it, and I blocked her.” You put your hand on hers, letting her know you are right next to her. She expected you to be happy but you were always better for her then she anticipated.

“And how do you feel about it?” You ask tenderly.

“It hurts… I know she wasn't good, she never was, but she meant a lot and it… it just hurts.” You nod your head waiting for her to continue, giving all the space she might need.

“ But it's going to heal, and as much as it pains me I also feel lighter. I need it. Thank you yn, for everything.” She interviews her fingers with yours and allows silence to take over, leaving you both in each other's comfort.

Next chapter

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scoops-aboy86 · 4 months

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♠️♥️ once again! It's Halloween time and for the past month Steve has been chauffeuring the kids around for whatever they wanted (all with attitude of course) and he can't help the annoyance he feels dealing with them, especially Mike. Sometimes he and Eddie get together and talk about what little shits they are, and Halloween night the two get the idea to get a little revenge. All in good fun of course. They all gather at Steve's house and the two make the plan to get the kids (teens now wow) to leave their candy with him while Eddie distracts them and to basically fool them by making them think he ate it all. Of course he has backup candy bags (the good stuff; full size candy bars), but now he has to figure out where to dump their actual candy. He can't hide it because that's too obvious and he technically has to pretend to have eaten it all so Steve concludes to actually just eat it (a horrible idea really, but this was a last minute prank and the joint he smoked an hour ago doesn't help either).

With Eddie and the kids gone he gets started: flicks on a scary movie and settles into the couch, all six candy bags nestled by his side. Chocolates and gummies, licorice and skittles, little bags of treats slowly popped into his mouth. One after the other, Steve methodically unwrapping, chewing, and swallowing. After awhile the taste gets a little old so he cracks open a coke. He's halfway through the third bag when his stomach cramps, gurgling loudly from all the sugar and fizz. He shimmies a bit before unbuttoning his pants and continuing with the plan, telling himself it's all for the sake of revenge.

And again, he keeps going, lost in his own gluttony as he tries to pick up the pace before they get back. He's finally down to the last bag when he hears the van pull into the drive way and he bolts up, bloated gut groaning and sloshing. With clumsy hands he grabs the bags and bolts up to his room, locking the door, hiding the evidence and determined to finish the sixth bag. He can hear them in the living room and he's barely chewing as he shoves the candy down his throat, chugging coke to wash it all down.

With one last gulp, he's done it! But with it gone, and his gut too loud to ignore, he catches sight of himself in the mirror and he's positively potbellied. Unbuttoned jeans tight where his gut lays, his polo shirt having ridden up from where it once covered his deep set belly button, lips smeared with chocolate. He couldn't suck in if he tried 🙊 happy halloween!

Oh my god this is so funny, and my first thought is MIKE what did you DO? But it would have to be all of them, for him to target all their candy bags. (Not Erica’s, though. She’d legit slash his tires, and Eddie’s too for aiding and abetting.) But nothing genuinely hurtful, six parts because I like fluff and half a dozen because that would make this a pretty lame revenge.

Oh! Oh I know… Added some cool (read: kinda nerdy) homemade Halloween costumes, because Eddie can sew and Steve’s is pretty easy, so it’s a little different from what you laid out. 5608 words! Thank you for the prompt, pal, this was a fun one.

🔞

Always one thing after another with these goddamn kids, Steve swears. Sure, it’s not uncovering deadly monsters and government plots anymore… but they’re teenagers now, so it’s still always something.

Today it’s wax fruit, a fake Oreo, and a plastic pickle snuck into his sandwich (that he had made, how the fuck…?) that looks like Mike must’ve stolen from one of Holly’s old play sets.

And now, to top it all off, Dustin pretended to hurl and got him with fake vomit.

It’s a rough April Fool’s day.

But like, at least they aren’t actively making fun of him for the weight he’s gained since the Upside Down ordeals had ended for good. Everyone laughs just as hard when Mike gets Will with a wax apple, and that kid is still a string bean.

“Mike needs to branch out from pranking people he has a crush on,” Eddie mutters darkly later that night, when it’s just the big kids having some good old-fashioned off duty babysitters time around the pool.

Steve, confused, is about to ask what he means from behind his (fake pickle free) sandwich, but Robin coughs on a mouthful of beer so instead he has to pound on her back until some of it comes out her nose.

“Jesus Steve, did you have to thump so hard?!”

“I thought you were choking!!”

Robin sticks out her tongue and pushes him into the pool, and in his flailing attempts to avoid his fate Steve manages to snag Eddie and drag him in with him.

Then Nancy sputters “Steve, again?” while laughing so hard that she can barely breathe. It reminds Steve of how he’d dragged her into the pool on purpose the first night they’d—

Steve’s cheeks flame immediately. He’s only actually told Robin how he feels (thinks he feels? is starting to feel?) about Eddie, but Nancy is smart and she knows him, he’s not shocked that she’s noticed. So he has to splash both her and Robin, obviously, before they give away anything.

Unfortunately, Eddie takes the opportunity to latch onto him like a barnacle and pull him over, so Steve misses and douses Argyle instead, and—

—Steve still remembers, come October. He wants to get them back, but to do that successfully he’s going to need backup. Tough, with both Robin and Nancy off at college and Jon and Argyle back in California, but not impossible.

He swallows down his nerves and asks Eddie. No big deal, they hang out together practically every day these days. Practically best friends. Except… Steve hasn’t exactly told him the reason he doesn’t take girls out on dates anymore.

“A revenge prank, you say,” Eddie murmurs, hands in front of his mouth and fingertips drumming together in intrigue. He’s sprawled in one of Steve’s kitchen chairs with one leg over a wooden arm like no one ever taught him how to sit like a human. It should be ungodly uncomfortable, but the dude looks perfectly at ease. Weirdo, Steve thinks affectionately. “I like it. Do you have anything in mind, or are we brainstorming?”

“Brainstorming,” Steve confirms, and they relocate to the living room and get to smoking about it over bowls of the spaghetti bolognese he just finished making.

Eddie’s condition for helping is that they plan matching Halloween costumes, and since they both know the boys are pulling their old props out of closets and attics to suit up as the Ghostbusters again, it’s not difficult to decide on a theme.

“No no no, we can’t be the Gatekeeper and the Keymaster,” Steve protests with a laugh, waving his hand through the smoke in the air. Since he’s currently holding the joint, the motion paints all new swirling shapes before them.

“Why not?” Eddie squawks, and steals the joint back before it can ash anywhere unfortunate.

“Because you have the hair to play Sigourney Weaver, but I could never pass for Rick Moranis. It totally wouldn’t work, man.”

“Dude, work with me here! What else are we going to be, Gozer and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man?”

“I…” Steve pauses. He’s seen Ghostbusters, and remembers the Gozer the Gozarian costume from the end of the movie. Can he turn down an opportunity to see Eddie in a nude body stocking and heels? “… Yeah, okay.”

Apparently not. Can he survive it? Remains to be seen, but he’ll find out eventually.

“Wait, really?” A disbelieving grin spreads across Eddie’s face, making both dimples pop. “You’d put on the little hat, sailor’s collar, and neckerchief for me, Stevie?”

And it’s not that Steve didn’t register the other half of the deal, but he doesn’t really mind. High as he is at the moment, his hand drifts to the belly he’s put on since high school—the munchies keep hitting him in waves and he’s already finished most of the would-be leftovers from the pot in the kitchen, so he’s a little bloated right now. He giggles and gives himself a pat. “I mean, why not? I’m in shape for it, aren’t I?”

The pat knocks loose a burp that sneaks up and out of his mouth as soon as he’s finished talking, but Eddie laughs so brightly that Steve forgets to be embarrassed.

“I’ve got it,” Eddie gasps once he’s pulled himself together again. “Steve. Steve, you could be the one hundred foot marshmallow man summoned to destroy… their Halloween candy.”

“Destroy it?”

“Yes! It’ll be your revenge for all that fake food! I can be a distraction, while you confiscate all their hard-earned, tooth-rotting treats. They come back—oh no, they’ll weep!”

“Weep?” Steve snorts. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“They’ll weep, Who stole our candy? Who could have done such a thing? With much gnashing of teeth. And you make your appearance, maybe smear some chocolate sauce around your mouth to really sell it, and say, That’s what you get for all that wax fruit.”

“I guess I could do that,” Steve says slowly. When Eddie offers him the joint again he accepts, taking a hit absently as he mulls it over. “Kinda mean though, stealing their candy. Waking all over the place to get that stuff is a lot of work.”

Eddie shrugs. “Get ‘em candy from the store. The full-size bars and shit. Then once they’ve learned their lesson, they can have that; everything’ll be fine and you get your own trick-and-treat stash. Oh—” he flails with excitement at another idea, and Steve can’t help the way it stirs butterflies in his already full stomach to see all that enthusiasm on his behalf—“but before you do, if Dustin gives you shit, you gotta say something like, What, are you so sad you could puke, Dusty-buns? That’ll show him.”

It makes Steve laugh, a warm feeling growing in his chest to know that they’re good enough friends for Eddie to come up with zany schemes on his behalf. He already knows he’ll go through with it, if Eddie is serious.

Several weeks later it’s Halloween, and the plan is set. Everyone (minus Erica, who’s trick-or-treating with friends her own age instead) is coming over after making their rounds through the neighborhoods, and Eddie will take them all to the haunted corn maze at one of the local farms. Steve, meanwhile, will hide their candy and pretend to have eaten it by the time they return.

It’s a great plan. Eddie comes over around sundown to do some pre-celebrating in the form of hotboxing Steve’s bedroom before all the kids in Hawkins start ringing the doorbell at any house with a front light on.

And Steve feels like he’s been hit between the eyes with a brick when he opens the door to Eddie’s knocking, because wow.

That is Eddie. With his hair up. Wearing a nude bodysuit covered in plastic baubles and white feathers. When he blinks, his eyelids are dark red with eyeshadow, just like Gozer’s eyes in the damn movie. And all Steve did was fish out a few elements of his old Scoops uniform—not the one he’d been interrogated by Russians in, he and Robin had burned both of those outfits after Starcourt—and put them on over a white sweater and white pants.

Eddie leaps across the threshold, strutting around in… oh god, he is wearing heels. Steve has to look up slightly to meet his gaze, and it makes him want to lean in even more than he usually always lowkey does.

“Gozer the Gozerian,” Eddie howls, baring his teeth in a feral grin as he continues to announce, “Gozer the Destructor, Volguus Zildrohar, the Traveller has come!” He jabs a finger towards Steve demandingly. “Choose, and perish!”

Somehow, Steve manages to keep his composure—maybe from all the practice he’s had. He puts his hands on his hips and raises his eyebrows. “I thought I’m the one destroying stuff tonight. Isn’t that the Marshmallow Man’s whole job?”

“Aw, Stevie,” Eddie starts, looking him up and down and… getting distracted for some reason.

Steve glances down at himself, worried that maybe he’s gotten something about his sweater, but no. And he can’t see anything on his pants either, unless it’s just under where his belly pooches out over the top of his pants and makes it hard to see—he’s made his peace with that, but it makes him nervous now. “So, uh, are we gonna smoke or what, man? Do you even have pockets in that, um… outfit?”

Whatever it was that had snagged Eddie’s attention, he shakes himself out of it to shoot Steve an exaggeratedly put-upon pout. “Sir Stay Puft, you dare question a god? Of course I have pockets.” He reaches towards where the over-layer of fluffy decoration is thickest winding up his torso—the left side, where Steve knows his scars are also the most prominent, even after a year and a half. Turns out there’s a cleverly hidden zipper pouch beneath it, and Eddie produces two roll-ups and a zippo with a cheeky grin.

So they’re definitely both decently stoned by the time the kids come by. The four original Party members are in their Ghostbuster suits, as expected: Will as Winston, Dustin as Egon, Lucas as Ray, and Mike as Venkman. El has her short but growing out hair curled and a guitar case slung across her back (presumably because no one had seen fit to let the kids borrow a cello, which was for the best). Max, in her wheelchair, is green from head to waist and styled to look like Slimer on top of the hotel maid cart from the movie.

“Oh shit,” she crows when she registers Steve and Eddie’s costumes. “Okay, you nerds are definitely outnumbered in terms of ghost power now. Looks like I chose the right side.”

The three of them exchange high fives, before Steve insists on getting pictures. “You know your mom will love it,” he says pointedly to Dustin. “And since she cooks me dinner more often than any of you—”

“I cook for you sometimes,” Eddie pipes up. Which is true. But mentioning Mrs. Henderson’s cooking has already reminded Steve’s high brain that he hasn’t eaten much since Eddie arrived, not wanting to get spills or crumbs on his glaringly white outfit, so Steve just waves him off, distracted. He feels his stomach give a quiet little grumble.

“Yeah yeah, I know you do. I’m talking to the twerps.”

“We’re not—”

“Anyway,” Steve says loudly over Mike, clapping both hands together, “come on people, pictures! Everybody! Let’s go!”

They manage to get a few shots of the entire group using the timer feature on Steve’s parents’ fancy camera (that they’ve never used). He has no idea if any of them will be any good from the way he can hear Eddie muttering encouragement for everyone to strike weird poses right before the flash goes off, but at least they’ll be funny. Poses are much more encouraged for the rest of the photos, featuring the Ghostbusters battling their different ghostly opponents. El seems a little annoyed that she doesn’t have anything in particular to do, and thankfully no one suggests that she try to act out Dana possessed by Zuul—that’d be a little too close to home.

So the last couple shots are of El fending off all three ghosts with her ‘cello’ case, delightedly shouting “Get away from her, you bitch,” no matter how many times the boys try to explain that yes that was Sigourney Weaver, but in a different movie.

And then—

“Okay,” Eddie says loudly, clapping his hands and winking unsubtly at Steve, “who’s up for the haunted corn maze? Gozer is granting you lame little mortals a ride too and from, otherwise my associate Mr. Stay Puft here will be free to step on you with impunity—”

Ten chaotic minutes later, Steve is alone in a house full of candy and an empty stomach. He rubs absently at it while dumping all the kids’ candy bags out on the kitchen island counter. As he goes, he makes backup bags to send them home with—plain brown paper, the same ones he always used to take his lunches to school in—and matches every fun-sized bar he dumps out with a full-sized bar he drops in.

If he hesitates on a few of his favorite kinds of candy, no one has to know. Mostly, though, his thoughts are a mix of Claudia Henderson’s lasagna and wishing he were at the haunted corn maze with Eddie. He’s taken dates to the haunted maze before, it’s not that hard to find a dark corner where no one would realize it’s a guy he’s trying to woo, especially with the form-fitting Gozer costume thrown into the mix… But, well, they’ve spent a decent amount of extra time together while plotting this—read: getting high and congratulating each other on being so devious and smart—and that will have to do for now.

When alternate bags are all done, he grabs a Coke from the fridge and slurps at it while sorting the remaining candy into different bowls: one for just chocolate, one for nuts, one for nuggat, one for toffee, one for sour, and one for the rest. And then… he takes them all out to the living room couch, along with a new six-pack of Cokes. Fully aware of what he’s doing, but still floaty enough from the weed that he’s not really sure when he made the decision.

The plan was to stash the stolen candy and share it with Eddie later, but he’s hungry. Probably won’t finish it all, anyway. There will still be some—and even if there’s not, he can always buy more. Doesn’t care right now, he’s hungry. He hasn’t eaten since, like… lunch.

And, fine, yes, his weight has really gotten away from him, especially lately. He’s spent all summer whenever he wasn’t working lounging by the pool in his backyard, working on his annual tan while completely unbothered by danger beyond forgetting to apply enough sunscreen. Relaxing. Snacking. Drinking, sometimes beer but most commonly pop. He gets to do this now, he’s earned it, and he’s really enjoying himself.

Steve settles himself amongst the candy bowls with a VHS in the player and a hand on his belly. It’s so soft and squishy, he usually ends up touching it one way or another these days; now, he feels all over the way it spills into his lap a little, kneading at it like a stress ball. With his other hand, he reaches for a Snickers bar and melts into the couch as it hits his tongue.

Most of the trick-or-treat candy is small for each one to fit in his mouth in one go, and anything larger is a challenge that he meets with happy enthusiasm.

After that initial bite, he starts with his least favorites, wolfing them down to get it over with and washing each mouthful down quickly with a Coke chaser. When he gets to the stuff he likes okay he lets himself slow down, still going at a steady pace but allowing himself to really taste and only popping a new Coke can as a palate cleanser when his mouth feels thick with chocolate and other layers of sweetness.

He’s no longer hungry at this point, but he’s not full, either. Maybe a little pinched though, so he sucks his fingers clean, shifts around a bit and leans until he can get at his waistband, and unbuttons his pants with a sigh. Stroking the red lines of his tummy as he reaches for a Three Musketeers, barely aware that it juts out a little more every time he frees it from his jeans these days.

This is where he pauses to revive the tail end of the second joint he and Eddie had started just before the kids came over, sinking into the high and further into the couch with a pumpkin-shaped bowl balanced on his soft chest. He pours the little packets of M&Ms and Skittles into his mouth at the same time, just to see how it tastes, and it’s weird but he doesn’t hate it. Does that with the rest of them to try and decide if he likes the combo, and whines a little (he’ll never admit it) when they run out before he can reach a conclusion. The pumpkin-shaped bowl is empty.

As Steve gets to his favorite candies (these in a regular white bowl, it matches his outfit) he picks up speed again. Somehow the movie is almost over, he’s hardly even watched it, and there’s only so much time left before Eddie’s van rumbles up into his driveaway again. He’s unwrapping the next two candies while still chewing, barely taking breaths between bites, trying to hurry and relishing every second of his impromptu and very unhealthy feast.

He’s so enraptured with the unending parade of sweetness on his tongue, the constant chewing and swallowing and chewing and swallowing, that he almost misses the telltale sounds outside. (The movie is over, nothing of interest showing on the TV screen, when did that happen?) Frantic, he sweeps as many wrappers as he can out of his lap before going to stand up. It takes him a few tries, he’s so sunken into his spot, and when he finally manages it, red-faced and puffing and buzzing with adrenaline and sugar rush and the remaining high, he has to put a hand under his full, heavy belly in order to move around comfortably. Not quite cramping, not quite stuffed, just… a really satisfying stretch.

But guess who doesn’t have time to enjoy it! God, he fucking hates being rushed these days.

Eddie has a key. They’ll let themselves in, so all Steve has to do is get to his bedroom with the last of his stolen haul and two remaining Cokes from the six-pack. He gets there, barely, before he hears the front door swing open, hustling so fast up the stairs that the motion keeps jostling burps from between his chocolate-smeared lips. And then he’s in, sagging back against the closed door. Candy bowl clutched up by his chest and pops set on the floor nearby to get one open and bring it to his thirsty mouth.

Okay, so maybe his exercise regimen has gotten a little bit lax lately. Maybe all he usually does is walk between his bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, and his car. Maybe he still sweats just as much despite getting around a lot less, because it costs him more effort than it used to…

No time to think about that, Steve tells himself dazedly. He needs to finish. The last of the candy is already unwrapped; he pushes the empty wrappers aside and grabs a handful, undiscriminating as he crams it in his mouth. One mouthful, then a second with hardly time to swallow, breathing hard through his nose. The treats act as a natural gag for his whimpers, fullness finally catching up to him, squirming on his padded ass with a muffled groan as the sensation sends a bolt of lighting straight south. Another handful, that’s basically the last of it, and he washes it down by chugging desperately at his Coke. Finishes it, claps a hand over his mouth to contain an inevitable belch—luckily, it’s covered by the start of indignant shouting from the living room.

And he knows the scene he’s left. Trick-or-treat bags scattered haphazardly around the kitchen, empty. The living room couch littered with empty bowls and empty wrappers. Destruction at the hands (and mouth) of Mr. Stay Puft.

His jaw hurts, but there’s only a little bit left. Just a little more, and he finds that he wants it. Wants to finish the challenge… No, the prank, this is… to get the kids back… He feels so hazy between the pot and his overfull state, tipping the very last of the candy into his mouth and chewing with his mouth open, head tipped back against the door, exhausted. And then dutifully reaches for the last can of Coke, opens it, and pours that down his throat too. Breaks away from the lip of the can with a weak cry and another series of burps, even starting to hiccup which makes him whimper and clutch at himself, overheated and churning gut too loud to ignore and too tight in his skin, or maybe in his clothes, or both, he just—

“Steve?” Eddie calls through the door, sounding a little uncertain. “Karen just picked up half the kids and Joyce got the other half, I gave them all the replacement candy already. Are you… You good in there?”

“Eds,” he pants, groans, hiccups. “Je—hic—Jesus, I’m so.” He carefully lays both hands on either side of his distended belly in an attempt to soothe it. “I, I did it, I ate—urrrrrrp, fuck—ate all of it. Did it, Eddie. I’m so… Feel like I’m gonna explode…”

And he does, an overheated tingly sort of feeling washing through him in waves, his heartbeat pounding in his stomach and his ears and his dick. Not the first time it’s happened, the way he eats, but he’s gone all out tonight and the sensation of being ready to pop has seeped from his stomach to also encompass his hard-on. Part of him wants to keep going, but he doesn’t have anything else, couldn’t possibly fit any more down his throat, but he wants to do something. Needs it. Needs…

“Eddie,” he groans, “he—hic—elp me.”

He can feel Eddie trying the door, but with Steve’s weight leaning against it there’s no way it’ll open. “Uh, I’m trying, I can’t…”

Laboriously, Steve kind of… rolls himself to one side, enough to haul himself onto his knees. He has to pause there, and again when he drops down onto his hands, and again after he crawls forward the barest few inches. Eddie tries the door again and it swings right into the meat of Steve’s ass, slapping against the tight denim and making Steve cry out, making him wobble and sway with a fresh wave of arousal that he absolutely didn’t expect but can’t help reveling in. He wants to drop down right there, he’s so tired and achingly horny, but knows instinctively that he can’t land on his belly like that. So he soldiers through, digging deep just to finish crawling to one side and slump against the plaid wallpaper instead.

He breathes shallowly and waits for Eddie to come help him.

The first look Eddie gets of Steve makes his eyes damn near pop out of his skull. Steve looks positively pot-bellied, spilling over his unbuttoned, unzipped pants like that, his belly button half uncovered and deep. Couldn’t suck in if he tried. He has chocolate and traces of candy-coating color all over his face and smeared on his sweater from all the times he’d thought he’d sucked his fingers clean but not quite, rubbing whatever was still on them into the fluffy knit. Messy, telling smudges at the bottom hem where he’d absently tried to pull the shirt down throughout his binge. It didn’t work; there’s a chocolate-smudged lip of far more than a mere muffin top bulging out the bottom, resting on his thighs. Jesus H. Christ, it almost looks like he’s doubled in size since Eddie last saw him a few hours ago, was there really that much candy in the kids’ bags?!

Eddie’s shoe knocks against an empty can as he enters the room, sending it spinning, and he supposes that’s his answer. It must be the combined efforts of candy and carbonated syrup water that have Steve so bloated, fizzing away in there.

When he’d first walked in a few hours ago and seen Steve in costume, his breath had caught in his throat mid sentence. Super embarrassing, but what was he supposed to do? One minute they’d been talking about costumes, so stoned and loose-tongued that Eddie had suggested they be the goddamned Gatekeeper and Keymaster—characters that had canonically fucked, just left of onscreen! Next, it was weeks later (and he hadn’t actually blacked out all the time in between, it just felt that way for a second) and his current best friend and longtime crush opened the door in a tight sweater and pants that looked painted on, wearing a jaunty little hat atop his magnificent head of hair. The words well hello there sailor had lined up on his tongue like pirates ready to walk the plank. He’d had to think very hard about how many times he’d accidentally stabbed himself with a needle while sewing the ‘ghostly’ accents onto his costume, just to avoid popping a boner right there in Steve’s foyer.

There’s just so much of Steve these days. So round, and all of his clothes perpetually tight. And Eddie’s been jerking off to the thought of this happening ever since they came up with this plan, imagining how the siren call of all that candy might make Steve’s mouth water, get his stomach rumbling, make him think that it wouldn’t hurt to have just one then taking another and another and another, insatiable… He just hadn’t expected it to actually happen.

“Eddie,” Steve groans again, looking up at him with pleading, bloodshot eyes. “I’m so full, n-need your help.”

“What can I do?” He drops down into a crouch in front of him immediately. “I’m right here, Stevie. What do you need, sweetheart?”

Okay, he needs to cool it with the pet names. Luckily Steve is already pawing at himself, looking so blazed he might not have even heard. “M’too, m’too hot Eds. Gotta get this off, get… off…”

Jesus H. Christ.

So Eddie helps him out of the sailor collar and no longer pristine sweater. He tries not to stare but his eyes go wide when he realizes how much it was compressing. Steve groans in relief as it comes off and his entire upper half seems to puff out a little bit more, all covered in thick chest hair. Eddie wants to dig his fingers into it, into all of it, but he has to stay focused.

Next are the pants, which Steve whines for Eddie to do and then whines more as he’s forced to lift his heavy ass, rock back and forth as Eddie drags the unforgiving fabric down, huffing and puffing between hiccups and burps and mewls of discomfort. Eddie’s dick is about to burst off and start running laps around the room for fuck’s sake, his hands are shaking he wants to touch so badly. Soothe away the stomach ache, tell him how amazing he did, finishing all that candy. Murmur in his ear, ask if that makes the revenge so much sweeter…

To make matters worse, the jeans take Steve’s boxers with them, elastic in the waistband already stretched to the point of uselessness, and Eddie can see so much. Too much, for his composure, as Steve’s cock slaps up against the underside of his belly.

They both moan at that and Steve turns his head to look at Eddie full on with reddened eyes, tremors running through him that only give him more tantalizing friction against his hairy gut and prompt his hips to rock faster. He’s so blissed out that he doesn’t even break eye contact, just reaches blindly to grab Eddie’s hand and guides it down between his legs, rings and all, where he’s already slippery with precome and sweat and half sliding down the wall to help with holding his own belly out of the way.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, captivated by the desperate heat in Steve’s gaze. He strokes, reverent but quick. “Holy shit, holy shit Stevie…”

“Eddie,” Steve moans. His eyes roll back, his entire head going with them to thunk against the wall. “L-like that, fuuuck—hic—Oh god, keep, keep doing that, more, Eds, more, I—”

Eddie dives forward and shuts him up with a desperate kiss. He already knows that Steve is going to cause him to ruin this damn Gozer costume he worked so hard on—in the hopes of impressing Steve, actually. Which he must have done, from the way Steve kisses back like he wants to devour him, like even after all that candy Eddie is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted and never wants to be without again.

Someone has definitely been impressed, and maybe Eddie will have to revisit the possibility of a god or something when he can think again because kissing Steve is heaven. Just… absolutely worth all the pining, even if it never happens again.

Then Steve goes almost completely slack, breaking the kiss with a wail as he comes in thick, pulsing ropes over Eddie’s fist. His only movements are his legs (thick, biteable, trembling so hard to either side of Eddie’s hips they fall only to jerk up in little spasms as his toes curl) and his mouth (plush lips bitten and messy, twisting into shapes of wordless ecstasy).

And Eddie has seen Steve relax, seen him indulge… seen him eat steadily through a large spread of snacks while lounging by the pool all summer in a Speedo with a sleepy, content look on his face, but this is the first time he’s really seen him let go. Lost in pure bliss.

He’s barely thinking when he brings his come-slick hand up, thumbing through the chocolate in the corner of Steve’s mouth before sinking the digit inside. Coming himself, the instant after Steve eagerly closes around it and sucks, licks, drools all over his hand to get it all. Shuddering harder when Steve grips weakly at his wrist and continues laving over each finger one by one, slow but thorough, eyes open and dazed but tracking Eddie’s face.

Until they’re both still, other than Steve letting out the occasional drowsy hiccup. Eddie’s fingers smooth over his parted lips, receiving faint kitten licks now and then as though Steve just can’t help himself. His other hand cradles the side of Steve’s bulging fullness, gentle against the duality of soft and immovable, in awe that he gets to touch. A part of him is still reeling that this happened at all, that he gets to see Steve so sated and sleepy and bare—except for one sock that’s managed to stay on his foot.

Jesus H. Christ. Steve’s naked and they’re in his bedroom and they didn’t even make it to the bed.

“Do you, um. Want to lay down?” Eddie whispers. He can feel his face growing hot from the lameness of that question… Steve is practically on his back where he is, enough that he might not be able to see his feet.

Steve nips at his pointer finger, blinking lazily with a little groan of contentment. “Does that mean I have to move,” he mumbles, but gamely begins to sit up. Eddie, from his crouch, shifts immediately to the side to help him, supports Steve’s back as he huffs his way towards semi-upright against the wall. “Urp—mm, thanks Eds.”

“No problem.” And Eddie doesn’t know why he’s whispering like he’s in a fucking library instead of kneeling in Steve Harrington’s bedroom with jizz sticky and cooling on the inside of his fucking body suit, but he doesn’t want to break whatever spell or dream that’s allowed this to happen. Wants to hold onto Steve a little bit longer, coaxing out little groans of contentment through belly rubs.

Steve gives Eddie the sweetest smile, sleepy and sated. “Felt so good. Still feels good. Did you…” A flicker of uncertainty crosses his face. “Was it good? Was I good?”

And Eddie just can’t let that doubt linger another second. “You were perfect, sweetheart,” he replies immediately, rubbing slow, soothing stripes along Steve’s side. “Fucking amazing. Move over, Mona Lisa, there’s a new masterpiece in town and his name is Steve Harrington.”

That earns him a laugh, cut off quickly when Steve clutches at his belly with a groan. “O-overdid it. Mm… ‘S fine, ‘s just… a lot.”

“Certainly looks like it.” He leans forward and presses a kiss just north of Steve’s belly button, can’t help cradling it with both hands and rubbing soothingly. “Let’s get you up, okay? Get you in bed.”

Soon enough Eddie has him cleaned up and tucked in.

“Stay?” Steve sighs, already more than half asleep.

So Eddie shucks his costume and climbs under the covers behind him, chuckling as Steve sluggishly reaches back and tugs Eddie’s arm over himself, demanding to be snuggled.

And that’s more or less how they wake up in the morning.

“Eddie,” Steve says through a yawn, subtly rubbing his naked ass back against Eddie’s naked front. There’s a teasing note in his voice as he continues, “I’m hungry.”

Secure now in the knowledge that this is neither a dream nor some kind of trick, it’s a morning treat that Eddie just can’t resist.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @tangerinesteve @sofadofax

#wg steddie #♠️♥️ anon #ask #chubby steve harrington #chaser eddie munson #the kids aren't pranking steve because of his weight #they're doing it because they enjoy dunking on steve in general like the hellions they are (affectionate)

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iridescentis · 1 month

Note

for the ask game :)

001 - perfectdolls

Ooo fun!!

when I started shipping it if I did:

I wanna say a couple months ago? I think? the earliest perfectdolls reblog I did was early june and that makes sense since I got into RTC in april, so I've shipped them for roughly that long :)

my thoughts:

LOVEEEEE <333333 My darlings my favs they are WONDERFUL I could talk about them foreverrr

I think they have SUCH a fun dynamic with tons of potential like okay so Jane and Ocean, ADORE, the beauty of Ocean's character development coming from seeing the human in a lost girl with no identity and sacrificing her own motivations to give someone she never even knew the chance is poetic PERFECTION AGH <3 the love is just so complex and beautiful I could SCREAM, then we've got RTC fanon Penny and Ocean, so essentially Penny the blank canvas, which I also ADORE, I love seeing their dynamic with different Pennys since every writer has a different take on her

BUT ANOTHER THING. TELL ME LEGOLAND PENNY AND OCEAN AREN'T WONDERFUL. like you've got this girl who has ultimately done some fucked up stuff but doesn't swear, is very anxious and is trying to be a good person, and then little miss perfect over here with her high and mighty attitude THAT IS A WHOLE COMBINATION I LOVE (and will explore in my next multichap I mean what cough cough)

What makes me happy about them:

I think they have such cute potential, just from seeing how Ocean starts to soften to Jane's presence within the show but also outside of that, it's two girls who have done fucked up stuff, whether it was justified or not, finding each other and healing in a way. They have kinda similar backgrounds, and I think they would really ground each other. They just complete each other in that way, Ocean has the determination and outspokeness that Penny needs to stand up for herself and be confident, and Penny has that deep understanding and care for other people that Ocean needs (both for herself and to learn from)

What makes me sad about them:

THEY ARE SO TRAGIC. THEY ARE PEAK TRAGEDY TO ME. I WILL NEVER STOP WRITING FUCKED UP POETIC RAMBLINGS ABOUT HOW FUCKING SAD THEY ARE.

Ocean's sacrifice, letting go of Jane and in the process her only chance at life, just to let her last moments go towards something good, Jane leaving the girl who learned to care for her too late, the intrinsic separation between the two of them and life and death, two lovers who can never be together AGH IT'S SO GOOD. I think they are perfect for absolutely heartbreaking angst, cyclone accident included or not, and it will always make me weep

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

This is more of a general thing for RTC fics but it does annoy me in perfectdolls fics especially - Ocean's flaws being ignored. I totally get not wanting to delve into hard-hitting character stuff and redeeming her in a realistic, detailed way, sometimes you just wanna write some fluffy lesbians, I get that! But I do feel like some perfectdolls fics kinda butcher Ocean's character entirely to avoid having to address she's flawed or even that she's more than just a blushy mess in a romance scenario like she's always VERY outspoken and loud and energetic I just can't see her being shy, sweet and agreeable while also ignoring ALL of her faults

it's easier to gloss over her character being simplified when she's not the main one in a fic but it really bugs me when people just. get rid of the bad stuff with no explanation or even acknowledgement. and you really can't get away with that when she's half of the main ship in the fic. my only exception for this would be future AUs, like if they're in their 20s I think you're fine to move past that but still, OOC Ocean pisses me off in all shapes and forms

I think Penny is hard to write OOC because most fics don't use Legoland!Penny and thus have literally nothing to go off, so remarkably Penny characterisation doesn't ever really bother me, AS LONG AS SHE HAS CHARACTER. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GIVE BOTH OF THESE GIRLS A PERSONALITY.

okay I have ranted enough now 😅

things I look for in fanfic:

BACKSTORY. I FUCKING LOVE PERFECTDOLLS BACKSTORY. ALSO ANGST.

perfectdolls have great slowburn potential but sadly I do not have the patience for slowburn unless the fic is incomplete and I'm reading updates as they come out, so with oneshots and stuff I look for solid characterisation, probably post-cyclone but I'm not too fussy with that, some good build up and context, and just a lil bit of spice yk just a dash for some flavour

in a general sense, with fanfic I'm always looking for getting together, in universe, probably friends to lovers although rivals can be good, and like a maximum of 20k words

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

CDPLAYER 💞💓💖💕 MY LOVES. yeah if Penny is not with Ocean she is 100% with Tammy I love them DEARLY <3333

Ocean is a tricky one, I think I would be happy for her to end up with Constance, I'm not a huge blackrose shipper but I'm never mad at them as a side pairing in other fics, I would be comfortable with them together if not perfectdolls, although generally if I'm not writing perfectdolls Ocean won't end up with anyone

My happily ever after for them:

This one is hard because almost everything I have written or come up for them that has an ending always ends badly 😭 I have never written them a happy ending before oops

I think, them living together in the city in their twenties, both of them chasing their dreams, going to college together and moving in together afterwards, I think that could be cute

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

Jane x Ocean - Jane is the big spoon, Ocean is the little spoon RTC!Penny x Ocean - Penny is the big spoon, Ocean is the little spoon Legoland!Penny x Ocean - Ocean is the big spoon, Penny is the little spoon

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

hmmm again the fact I only ever think about sad ass prompts for them is failing me 😭

this is more of genre of activities rather than a particular one but intimate non-sexual self-care is probably super important to them, like washing and brushing each others hair, doing their routines for each other, meditating together, just simple very close things to take care of each other

I think both characters can have tendency to neglect themselves and be detrimental to their own wellbeing (whether that's self neglect in pursuit of perfection or self-sabotage) and so I think taking care of each other in a sweet and healing way would be their favourite

for more generic answers I think they love doing things together, whatever it is, they love to be productive together like running errands, organising events/hang outs, volunteering (animal shelter perhaps?) and they are DEFINITELY the kind of people who love coexisting while doing their own thing, like doing homework in silence in the same room is precious to them, Penny listening to music while Ocean studies or plans whatever she's got her heart set on, and they would definitely call just to have each other on the phone even though they aren't talking

That's all I've got! This was fun :D

#pleaseee send more I loved doing this :D #ranting about my fav ships and characters?? literal heaven #this has made me want to write perfectdolls SO BAD but writers block is plaguing me #ride the cyclone #perfectdolls

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milehighmegs · 8 days

Text

Healing Through Fiction

TW: Discussion but not recounting of SA and DV

Also, this is a very personal story, so if you're not comfortable with/don't have the spoons for a stranger's darkest confession, please go now, and with my full understanding.

In the wake of the allegations against NG, I find myself incredibly conflicted re: being a fan of his work, namely Good Omens. Only days before I learned about this, I was taken by an irrepressable urge to watch GO, over & over, and relive all the joy, pain, & bewilderment of the connection between Zira & Crowley. As an AuDHDer, with a smattering of other ND issues thrown in just for funsies (thanks God-or-whatever), seeing both the pure love and the heart-rending conflict between these two ND- and queer-coded characters has given me a deep insight into my own world. This will be long, so bear with me, and it gets a little tangled so I'll do my best to sort out this particular ugly bag of snakes.

[Note: I identify as cishet female, so when I refer to the LGBTQIA+ community in terms of my experience, I do not mean to infer that I'm part of that community. I am, however, a staunch ally & advocate, so please know that none of the reference to nor any language surrounding such reference is intended to be offensive. If at any point I do offend, please accept my apologies and educate me on better ways to address this.]

So.

A number of years ago, as a full-blown adult, I was touched by a family member in a way that family shouldn't be touched. Afterwards, I not only had deep feelings of shame, anger, hatred, & self-loathing, but I also had a dark feeling that something like this had happened to me before. It danced just at the edge of my memory while never stepping fully into the light. But I felt it, deep in my bones. Could I say for certain that I had been molested as a child? No, and I still can't. But I can't shake the feeling. The suspicion that maybe, just maybe, I'd been through this already, when I was too young to process it, thereby shoving it way down in order to bury the corpse of such a horrific experience. And yet its ghost has always haunted me, always been there at the corners of my emotional vision, always sliding up alongside me when things got intimate with all of my partners, no matter how deeply I loved or trusted them.

In addition to a potential traumatic childhood experience, it wasn't known at the time but I am (as mentioned) AuDHD. Because of this, I have a hard time getting to know people at first, but once I see even a hint of reciprocation of friendship, respect, or trust, I unload. And I mean like, UNLOAD. Having spent a vast majority of my life feeling rejected by peers, teachers/adult "authority" figures, even my own family, any sign of acceptance by others is like water in the desert. Alas, because I've come on too strong, it's overwhelming for others (both NT & ND), and it was all an oasis of my own wishful thinking. Again comes the rejection, again comes the self-loathing, lather, rinse, repeat.

Shame spirals really and truly suck.

To escape the harsh reality of my lonely little world, I did what any good "gifted" kid would: I disappeared into books. My favorites were fantasy, or historical fiction/period pieces (think 'Little House on the Prairie' and 'Number the Stars'). When it came to TV, I of course watched cartoons, but my favorite shows were the primetime sci-fi serials that my parents watched, namely Star Trek: The Next Generation and Quantum Leap. I won't get into a huge expose on the impact ST:TNG has had on my life (that's a story for another time), but it IS pertinent to my point (which I SWEAR I'll be getting to eventually!). Movies were especially fun escapes, though I wasn't much of Disney kid. I was (and still am) WAY more into the dark stuff. My top 4 favorite childhood films are 1) The Dark Crystal, 2) The Secret of NIMH, 3) The Neverending Story, and 4) Labyrinth. I also loved (and still love) just about anything Tim Burton. These years would have been prime for me to get into NG's works, but alas, I wasn't to find out about them until I was much older. As I got older, music took a starring role in the dealing-with-my-feelings-via-art arena, especially heavy, loud, frequently angry music. I was the "goth chick" in high school, and I've got the pictures to prove it. I still cherished the stories, shows, & movies from my younger years, but my tastes grew darker & angrier as I found less acceptance among my peers & family as a teenager, and even more pushback from those damned adult "authority" figures. This has continued into my adulthood.

So on that note, and (sorta) rounding back to the title here, stories are my favorite thing in the world because they offer the experience of living someone else's life, or putting yourself into that world and living the life of your choosing, rather than the one that was handed to you and in which you then made choices, not all of them good. Also, stories offer us a chance to be part of something bigger than ourselves because the central point of what I would deem a good story is that it's greater than the sum of its parts. The biggest reason ST and Marvel are my biggest fandoms is because they're primarily about good if flawed people doing their damnedest to set themselves or their differences aside and come together to save the world. While I don't imagine I'll ever be part of something quite that grandiose (but a girl can dream, yeah?), it's still something I've always craved: to be part of a group of people who, even if they aren't saving the world, they're saving each other just by being together. And I don't mean 'saving' in the sense of the broken-wing or savior complexes; I mean they're offering trust, friendship (or more), respect, support, & honesty to one another by accepting each other exactly the way they are BECAUSE of their so-called flaws. They pick each other up off the ground in hard times, and lift each other up onto their shoulders in good ones. They come together to achieve goals that they couldn't without one another, and always share the burden of defeat as well as the fruits of victory.

To put all of this into a somewhat messily wrapped package... Good Omens (and all the fan theories, analyses, and art of such) has been more insightful and liberating for me in terms of my emotional health than my 40+ years of relationships, attempted self-discovery, & shadow work. Watching Zira & Crowley love each other so thoroughly depsite the fact that they're supposed to be ineffable enemies gives me hope that in all my broken, battered, self-loathing ways... maybe I can be loved like that, too. What NG and Sir Terry Pratchett created all those years ago, and what has been brought to life by the brilliant messieurs Sheen & Tennant, is imo the (literal!) greatest love story of all time. The conflicts, their "flaws," and their ultimate acceptance of each other through it all, is the purest form of the deepest love ever in all of fictional creation.

And this is where the conflict comes in.

In addition to my suspicions about previous childhood SA, I spent a good chunk of my teen & earlier adult years being... well, promiscuous. It boils down to a desperate need for acceptance & validation as well as having been starved for physical affection as a child (we are NOT a lovey-dovey family). Sadly, the reality was a string of being used and then rejected, or enduring a continuous, insidious stretch of lies, manipulation, gaslighting, & verbal, even almost physical abuse. One of my former partners came very close to full-on assault, but stopped short of inflicting actual physical pain or damage. This does mean that it does not count. I had to learn that after years of trying to reconcile with what had actually happened.

Following my SA as an adult, I was lost, confused, angry, ashamed, and I dove deep into a well of anger, self-loathing, isolation; I even flirted with a bit of misandry. And could anyone blame me? I was, after all, hurt by a man I had loved & trusted for literally my entire life to that point, and that trust was broken in the worst possible way. Nearly every other time a man had touched me like that had led to pain, shame, & feelings of abandonment. I told myself that men couldn't be trusted, that even though they weren't all That Guy™, I would never know who I was actually dealing with until it was too late. Better to just put up the walls and be done with it altogether. I'm still struggling with this today, with no small amount of cognitive dissonance thrown in thanks to a few ongoing complicated situations in my life. Will I ever really learn? <sigh>

Having found comfort & healing in stories like Good Omens, learning about the allegations against one of its creators (and of other works that I've admired & loved) throws a big giant wrench into this whole thing. What a cruel twist of fate, finding out that someone who created something that had eleviated the pain of my trauma has potentially inflicted that EXACT SAME kind of pain on other people? It's the purest form of conflicted cognitive dissonance I can think of. Ironic that so much of my personal emotional development should come from the work of a person now accused of the thing that gave me the need for recovery in the first place.

As another interesting connection to GO, I feel kinda like Crowley: he was cast out of Heaven, and because of it, he met and developed a defining relationship with Zira, the very person who makes him feel safe, feel loved, and whom he loves in return, knowing that Zira has (almost) always sided with the very people who cast Crowley out in the first place. It's a wicked circle, is it not? So on top of finding healing in the underlying but obvious implications of GO, I identify with one of the lead characters. I also identify with them being "outcasts" (as in outcasts from their respective societies) in terms of their rebelliousness, and their reality-related "otherness" in terms of their queer/nonbinary/gender fluid presentations and ND tendencies. I'm not LGBTQIA+ myself, but I relate to and sympathize with being ignored or actively driven away by people who don't accept me for who I am in my entirety, although this is more related to my ND status (Zira & Crowley are more frequently referred to in the LGBTQIA+ sense than in the ND sense, but it's in the same vein). There's more to this relatability with Crowley in terms of being the "errant child," but that'll go a little too off subject to get into here.

[Again, I don't mean to claim that my ND experience and s**ual trauma are the same as or worse than being ostracized, physically hurt, and/or chronically bullied for being LGBTQIA+. I only mean to draw similarities between my experience and the descriptions & stories of these characters. I ask again that you educate me if I'm in the wrong here.]

So... what IS the point that I SWORE I would get to eventually? Here's the point:

My point is... dolphins. That's my point.

Sorry, couldn't help myself. =)

That healing through fiction & escapism, and the support & artistry of a strong fan community, is valid and helpful, and therefore should be as accepted as traditional therapy. But what do we do when the creator becomes the source of pain for other people? Everyone's answer to this is going to be different, and for different reasons, and EVERY ONE OF THEM IS VALID BECAUSE IT IS PERSONAL. (I will have NO talk of anyone being "wrong" for their opinion on MY blog, so be gone, foul fiends.) I am in the camp of separating the art from the artist, and yet... I can't ignore the accusations against him. I can't ignore the stories of these women, because I know how I felt when I talked about my assault with people I thought would believe & support me. They defended him. Made excuses, tried to blow it off, told me not to talk about it... it was infuriating, and invalidating, and all kinds of other awful shit. I know what these women are going through, so I can't ignore this whole thing outright. But then I turn on 'The Sandman', or scroll through my 'Ineffable' Pinterest board, or see the copy of 'Neverwhere' on my nightstand... it's a fuckin rollercoaster, folks.

If you can relate to any of these experiences and you feel up to sharing, I'd love to hear your story. I know that a cishet woman saying shit like 'I'm a safe space' can induce eye-rolling hard enough to see brain matter, but my intention is the same.

Thanks for getting this far with me, and for being my own safe space. Tumblr, while I'm EXTREMELY late to the party, is my favorite place in the world... next to my own little mental creation of Zira's bookshop, where I peruse the shelves with wonder, cozy up in a big comfy chair, and flip through tomes of ancient wisdom while my cocoa doth grow cold.

-MK

#good omens #sa survivor #healing #fiction #art therapy

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kaplisdb · 11 months

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Apartment 237 B

You put the final box down. You had just moved into your latest apartment, number 237 B. It was a major apartment complex in a somewhat nice big city and you were quite excited. The last place you had was full of creeps and weirdos, so this was a nice change of pace. You sigh, maybe not. See, since arriving, you haven't seen a single soul. You thought you might've seen someone through one of the windows while you were entering, but the blinds closed so quickly that you couldn't tell. Regardless, it was still very odd not seeing anyone. There wasn't even a doorman. You had a funny feeling something strange was going on here, but decided it was just the average jitters.

You saunter over to your newly set up couch and fall onto it dramatically. You were exhausted. The only people who helped you move in were the guys from the moving company and they only did the super heavy stuff. You think about this all for a minute; the chaos of moving to a new apartment, your neighbors who may or may not be creeps, how much time has passed, and everything else that got you to now. Then, there was a knock. A heavy loud thunk on the door. 'Of course, the first person to say "hello" only says it when the hard work's done,' you think. You continue to lay on the couch hoping that they might go away so you can rest until another loud knock rings through the apartment. You haul yourself up and off the couch and lazily walk to the door. Upon opening it, you're met with a behemmoth of a man. He stands, you swear, 7 feet tall and was wearing big oversized, dirty clothes and...a hockey mask? 'God, this place is full of crazies.' You take a breath and try to push past your judgements. In your cheeriest voice possible, you give a nice "Hello!" Instead of responding, all you hear is heaving breathing as he starts moving his hands, signing to you. "I'm so sorry, but I don't really know any sign language. Could I get you a pad of paper or something?" You ask the man. He holds up a hand indicating to wait right there and then he turns and walks down the hall to the apartment all the way at the end. He goes inside and you stand there waiting. 1 minute, 2 minutes, 3... and then he comes back with a pad of paper and a pencil.

As he walks down the hallway, he begins to write. You hear the scribbling very clearly in the quiet hallway. He arrives back at your door and shows you the page. It reads "I am Jason." His handwriting is incredibly childish and so you have to squint to read, but you make it out. "Hi, Jason. I'm Y/N. I just moved in, literally a few moments ago."

Things are quiet as you finish speaking. The only thing you hear is his breathing, it's oddly soothing. You both stand there for a moment sort of staring at each other. Could this count as staring? You couldn't even see his eyes, only black sockets where the mask's eyes were. "So..." You pause and twiddle your thumbs, "Did you need anything from me or were you just coming to say "hi"?" He flips the page and starts writing again. The sound, again, fills up the hallway. It bounces off the walls and back to you. It makes so much noise. He finishes and shows you the page. "Wanted to greet you. New people are rare." You finish reading and are confused. What does he mean by new people are rare? Before you can ask, he's already written a new page. "Goodbye." He leaves right as you finish reading and turns on his heel, speedily walking back to his apartment.

'Boy, he sure was strange,' You go into your own apartment and shut and lock the door, making sure no one else could bother you. You lay back on the couch. It's been a long day.

#kaplis #horror #horror movies #horror comedy #80s horror #horror films #jason voorhees #friday the 13th #slasher #slasher fandom #slasher fanfiction #slasher fucker #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines

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themollyjay · 1 year

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Am I The Asshole For Refusing To Die? (AITA D&D Edition)

First some Background. When I(25f) was 12 years old, a gang of monster hunters broke into my dad’s lair and killed him. My mom and I escaped through one of the secret passages he’d built into the lair, while my dad was busy roasting the monster hunters with his lightning breath (dad was a 2000+ year old Bronze dragon). After my dad was killed, my mom and I ended up settling in a small town with an active smuggler community. Mom ended up as the top lieutenant to the head of the largest smuggling operation in the city, and I was one of their best forgers, so it was a pretty sweet set up. Not as nice as living in a dragons lair, but still, we were doing pretty well. I even got a nice Tiefling girlfriend.

About 8 years after my dad died, I was out for the night with my girl, and this guy, call him Smugface (fake name) killed my mom, her boss, and all the boss’s lieutenants. I found out about it the next morning when I found one of Smugface’s goons dumping my mom’s body in the trash outside her boss’s headquarters. I killed the good and took his gun, then loaded up my mom’s body in a stolen wagon, and buried her next to my dad in his lair. Then I went back to town, swearing vengeance on Smugface for killing my mom.

The whole experience messed me up. I broke up with my girlfriend because I thought maybe Smugface hired her to lure me out of position so it would be easier to kill my mom and her boss, and since Smugface took over the smuggling ring, I was out of work, and had to take jobs smuggling stuff across the desert instead of on ships.

Since then, I’ve built up a good reputation as one of the best couriers on the sand sea, but I can’t go more than about four months or so without Smugface sending someone to kill me, which is annoying. But every time I send a piece of one of his goons back to him to let him know I’ve killed his latest assassin, he acts like I’m the one in the wrong. I’m like, ‘Hello, they were trying to kill me. What am I supposed to do, just stand there and not kill them first?’

Seriously, I just sent back the fifteenth assassin’s ears about 6 months, and word on the street at the time was that Smugface upped the price on my head by another hundred gold pieces. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong. Dad always told me that if anyone tries to kill you, you kill them first. I’m just trying to follow dad’s advice, but after the fifteenth time Smugface has thrown a fit, I’m starting to wonder, Am I the Asshole for non dying?

Edit: I know I said he usually sends a new assassin once every four months, but the city state we live in got caught in the middle of a civil war, and that’s been taking up most of Smugface’s time, while I’m trying to destroy the death cult that engineered the coup that started the civil war in the first place.

Edit Number 2: For those who are asking, no, it turns out my girlfriend wasn’t working for him. I found out recently that Smugface was trying to kill me that night. Turns out the head of the monster hunter gang was actually one of the leaders of a cult worshiping a death god (same one that started the civil war at home), and they wanted me dead because killing me with break a magic spell that was cast a thousand years ago to imprison their death god. The GF and I got back together. We ever have our own flying ship now. My GF is the captain of the ship, and my other friend and I are leading a coalition of 7 armies to kill the death god.

Edit Number 3: Guys, the bit about leading an army wasn’t me bragging or anything. It’s the shittiest job you can imagine. Long hours, high stress, people trying to kill my all the time (that part isn’t *too* different). I’m a fucking mailman. I have no idea what I’m doing, but everyone looks at me like I’m some kind of champion out of the sagas, off to save the world. I tried to explain that I won the last battle by sitting on the general of the opposing army, but everyone thinks that’s impressive somehow just because I turned into a dragon first. I’m like, “Hello, my dad was a dragon, how is this not normal?”, but everyone still looks at me like I’m some sort of hero, when all I want to do is crawl in a nice, damp seaside cave and nap for a couple of centuries.

#dnd #dnd character #dnd5e

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sunflowerandstrawberryspice · 2 years

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Season FUCKING 8 of Ninjago

(this was written a while ago I am now done with season 12)

So I have been emotionally demolished (big surprise there) because my favorite character, and please don’t behead me for this, was Garmadon. I’ve never really mentioned it before because I saw no need to, but gods.... I’m in physical pain.

Why is Garmadon my favorite character? (I swear this section matters)

Because I love the way the show handled his character, I love how even when he was evil even when he was infected with the Great Devourer's venom, he was clearly trying to be good, he played more of the role of an anti hero than a true utter villain in my personal opinion (the crew also said that was kinda the intention in the beginning so I’m not to far off base). He clearly cared about his son and his wife, with Lloyd seemingly knowing who his father was before he had even gotten the chance to meet his mother (I promise I will talk about Misako in this rant cause she does play into it) and Garmadon is shown doing pretty much nothing other than telling his son “I love you, you matter and please don’t be like me” in season one through till then end of season four and even in their short meeting in season five.

Also it feels like the characters conveniently forget the fact that: isn’t the whole reason he’s evil because he was bit by the Great Devourer? The best comparison I can think of is blaming someone who was bit by a werewolf for becoming a werewolf, again not sure how else to put it. Also he’s shown doing a whole shit ton of good stuff before the evil like fully took over, like he fought multiple wars on the good side.

But then after he’s like de-evil-fied he immediately becomes this really kind chill person (hm it’s almost like he was a fundamentally good person who got dealt a really bad hand) even swearing off fighting, only breaking that vow because his son is in danger. In fact after he’s turned not evil (idk man) he’s a really valuable member of the team who’s honestly a lot less reckless when it come to the ninja’s well beings, like seriously who left Wu in charge of these people, and even snapped at Wu when they got BLASTED OFF INTO SPACE. His redemption is rather slow with most of the ninja taking most of season three to truly warm up to him, even after they’re still clearly weary of him, which I freaking love btw.

Finally after multiple seasons of proving he is a better person, admitting past lies (such as the letter to Misako, which honestly if a letter was all it took to sway her one way or another I’m not really sure how loyal she truly is, but I digress), mending bonds and just generally doing things to prove himself a good person, then the ending of season four hits and he sacrifices himself in a final act selflessness to save everyone. And I’m sorry but the line “I had wanted to make the world in my image, but I realize I already have, in you.” To Lloyd as his last goodbye was just heart wrenching. His last goodbye was an act of selfless good and even after we see him in season five he’s not concerned about escaping he is concerned about his sons wellbeing.

Why Harumi bringing him back makes me so upset.

So yeah that’s why I love Garmadon but why does it matter? Well because he died a good person. He died with people remembering his sacrifice as something good. Then Harumi brought him back, but not the Garmadon who loved his son more than anything, not the Garmadon who went through seasons of mending bonds, no she brought back the part of him entirely consumed with evil and hate, and it makes me so FUICKING mad!

Imagine you go through years of healing and change so you’ll be remembered not only for the evil you did but the good person you died as, only for someone to bring back the evil part of you to crush the image people had of you and wrecking the bonds you’d made leaving your memory utterly demolished and your family bond broken because some random girl decided she cared more about her own revenge and anger than the peace and good ending you had worked so hard to achieve.

Also the effect it’s going to have on Lloyd (Note I have not yet watched season 9 so take this as what I think would be the emotions he’d be feeling). His last true memories with his father were with the Garmadon who redeemed himself, it’s the person Lloyd considers to be his real father/the real Garmadon only for Harumi to bring back the man who Lloyd knows isn’t really his father only a hollow shell with his voice and snippets of memories. I can’t even imagine one how gut wrenchingly terrible it would feel to lose your parent only for someone to bring back what’s essentially an evil clone to destroy all the good that they had previously done.

Enough about Garmadon lets talk about season 8 (This section is far lighter)

This season was awesome! I loved most of the changes to the character designs and voices (apparently some people didn’t like the changes but honestly my only complaint has so be Kai’s hair color being kinda weird) it just felt like everyone’s voice actors were going so much harder this season, especially Zane, Cole and Nya’s like Nya’s voice and (let’s be honest) pretty bad hair cut was holding her back and since that all changed she’s honestly just so much cooler now! Also Zane switching from more human esq while in front of people while being robotic around his friends was just a fun rather personal touch, like it just felt like such a neat character quirk, like I just love to think of Zane not wanting to scare like younger children and stuff like that so he wears the more human appearance.

I loved all the reveals of small character quirks, especially with Cole, like him apparently not liking public singing (do I smell possibilities for fanfiction) and being really good with kids, like that’s just so adorable. Also all of Cole and Zane’s little side quest was just more shipping fuel for me lol. I loved the Pixel reveal and it just feels so fitting for her to be samurai X like just way to fun!

Was the season perfect: no, but was it really freaking fun and enjoyable and depressing, yes yes it was! In conclusion this Lego show should not have this much of a hold over my emotions tbh, but I’m not gonna stop watch so ya know!

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regular-lord-reckoner · 1 year

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a hospice nurse came out yesterday to talk to us and give us the run down of everything

she was nice and i think she's going to be his case manager while other nurses actually come out to check on him, but as soon as she left she was already putting in the orders for some medicines to help calm him and for a hospital bed and all of that

our dining table is kinda in the corner of the living room by the window so my mom and i already cleared all that out so we can put the bed there and that way he'll be right in the middle of everything and won't feel like he's just stuffed in the corner like he is in the bedroom

i kept going to just sit next to him yesterday and be by his side whenever my mom needed to go make him dinner or show the hospice nurse around because he didn't want to be alone

he was a lot more clear yesterday than he was the past couple of days and we had some very frank conversations about all of this which is good, but last night he had an anxiety attack and could barely breathe

my mom almost had to call hospice in because she didn't think he was going to make it but she managed to get him calmed down and settled

he was actually sitting up in his chair in the living room this morning but he pretty quickly had to move to the couch because he's just too tired

she and i talked this morning and i asked her how long she thinks he may have because i was thinking months maybe but she said we'll be lucky if he makes it to his birthday which is the 25th so that's...rough

she said there's just no fight left in him and his doctors are even talking about discontinuing a bunch of his meds and stuff

just...yeah.

i mean, i knew it was going to happen at some point, but i really didn't think it would be like...now. right now.

there still might be a chance he can turn this around and i think it's fucking crazy because i swear to god just like a week ago he was out on the back porch on the exercise bike, albeit he wasn't killing it on the fucking thing, but like...still

for a few minutes he was sitting and peddling a little and could walk back to his chair without a cane or using his wheelchair as a walker, he was able to make his own lunch and get himself a cup of coffee, at one point i even remember i was standing behind him just in case but he was scooting through the house like, "look at me go" and now it's like he's on death's door and i've heard this happens, it's not uncommon for people to do a big upswing right before the end where it seems like, "oh, okay, nice!!" and even his reports from his tests were looking fine, everything was seemingly okay but now i don't know anymore

i guess we'll just take each day at a time. my mom's going to see how this weekend goes but more than likely she's going to take another break from work and said she'd just go without pay, she just can't fathom being at fucking work and he ends up passing and i don't blame her a bit. since i work from home i think i'll try to still work as much as i can but ive got at least two weeks worth of pto already stored up and ready to go and whenever it's time, if it's next week or a month from now or whenever i'll just take that and fuck work

i just hate this so fucking much and i hate seeing him like this. i hate knowing that this is upsetting him but of course it fucking is. i hate knowing that he's scared. i hate so much about this but i guess there's no choice and i'm going to try to put on a brave face and do the best i can and that's that

#also last week when i was scheduling my next therapy appointment i decided to do every other week #because i felt like i was doing okay all things considered and we were kind of just saying the same things every time anyway #but uhh i might wanna reconsider that now #this week of all weeks is the one where i haven't had a session #and i don't think i need an emergent visit or anything #but it's just ironic i guess #fortunately i can do my sessions now from home we just hop on a video call together #so i won't be out of the house anymore for too long #anyway #i barely ate or drank anything yesterday and i can tell the not drinking thing is fucking me up #so i'm going to go take care of that and maybe try to get a little work done #and we'll just see how this goes #thank you for the kind words #i hope whoever's reading this has a peaceful and stress-free weekend

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unopenablebox · 2 years

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anyone want to help me strategize what to tell the psych intake person tomorrow so that i am successfully diagnosed with adhd and not anything else

#i am worried that i will be too uh. successful in my career. to receive stimulants that would let me do two tasks in an hour #on the other hand what if i sound too upset about my unproductive work life and i am considered Depressed that is not useful #my talking points are: my success in school is due to an elaborate scaffold of coping mechanisms which allow me to compensate #for how hard it is to ever start a thing or keep thinking about a thing or stop thinking about a thing #however now i am Professionalized and it turns out jobs are a whole other thing because you are supposed to do stuff in all the hours #and not a freely chosen subset of the hours #and my year of implementing morally pure Routines and Lists and External Structure has not solved my problem #also i constantly lose all my shit and can't organize anything and forget things constantly and using a calendar is an excruciating exercise #there. is that enough #will that be sufficient for me to get stuff #i know we're supposed to consider that adhd is fake and exists only because of the Environment of Work #but i swear to god other people still own stuff they got a while ago #like ..... shirts #other people keep owning the same shirts.#they don't go anywhere.#some people form routines? and do the same thing every day? they can have more than two routines #i can only have Take 1 Pill and Brush Teeth and everything else happens if it happens #box opener #so. that's uh. how are those

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cambria-writes · 2 years

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I haven’t been writing for over two years and I’ve been spending the most of the past 72 hours working on this and like two other fics so like. Please be nice. Also I only proofread this like, maybe twice, so if there are still any mistakes or typos, please let me know! I’m almost done with the next chapter, so if we’re all lucky I’ll be able to post it next week. I figure that a weekly upload schedule should probably be feasible for me. Guess we’ll see! pairing: eddie munsonx reader rating: PG13 for now, each chapter rated individually warnings: there will be hella spoilers for S4, lots of swearing, guns, minor injury and blood, drugs (just weed my dudes), alcohol, reader deserves her own warning actually, use of canadian english is also its own warning word count: 3,323

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖊: ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯 ℭ𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

March 20th, 1986

It’s annoying, having to wait like this.

Your leg is bouncing under the table and you can’t help but absently pick at the table’s flaking paint. You’d est up to meet after you were off work, which more or less coincided with when he got out of class. Which was apparently a bit earlier than you’d anticipated; you’ve been killing time at this stupid picnic table in the woods for almost half an hour now.

You’re about to cut your losses and prepare an apology call when something catches your eye, further off in the woods. It’s not like it’s eerily quiet; if you pay attention, you can hear squirrel scrambling up trees and birds flying around. But there’s something about that vague almost-shape you saw in the woods... You feel the hairs at the back of your neck rise. That’s probably a bad sign, right? You should probably leave. I should definitely leave.

“Sorry for keeping you wai–”

You shriek and clean fall off the bench with how fast you turn around.

“Fucking shit Ed! God damn warn a girl, holy shit!” You scream, catching your breath and brushing leaves off of you when you stand. “You scared the living hell out of me!”

Eddie raises his hands up in surrender and takes a few steps back. “Woah there, my bad. Didn’t mean to scare you. You alright?”

The genuine concern makes you groan and you drop yourself back onto the bench you’d fallen from. When asked, you were going to lie and say your shifts are work were just getting a bit aggravating, but it was a bit harder to justify being that jumpy.

“Dude, I don’t know. I’ve just been having these nightmares for a while and it’s been freaking me out,” you explain, putting your arms up on the table and resting your head on them. “I’ve been getting shit for sleep and it’s like I’m seeing things.”

“I’m pretty sure drugs are gonna make that worse, not better,” Eddie says slowly, leaning forward on the table after placing his box down. “You wanna, like... talk about it?”

You scoff and turn your head away. There was no way you were going to try and even begin to describe the fucked up shit that’s been playing in Technicolor in your brain the past few weeks. Nevermind the stuff you’re pretty sure was a dream but aren’t entirely convinced about.

Like that time you spotted Harrington and fucking Robin Buckley, of all people, in a movie theater together. Looking and acting absolutely blitzed out. That has to have been some kind of hallucination, because as soon as the movie was over you couldn’t see them anywhere.

Or that time a few years ago when Will Byers went missing and those kids–his friends, probably?–took to the streets like a band of thieves, looking for all the world like they were heading straight for the lab. No one else ever mentioned them or even gave any indication they’d seen a group of prepubescent boys taking up a whole street with their bikes and an ungodly time of night. So you just kind of assume you’d... dreamt it up, or something.

You’ve had weirder dreams.

“I appreciate the offer to be my impromptu therapist, Munson, but I think it’d just make me feel worse,” you eventually answer, sitting back up and running your hands down your face. “I just need whatever you’ve got that can knock me out. Shit you gave me last time barely got me to sleep like, an hour.”

Eddie audibly winces and crosses his arm.

“I hate to say it, but you might be better off with beer.”

You groan theatrically and let your head slam back down on the table. Slam it a few more times for good measure. Eddie hastily shoves his hand under your forehead.

“Hey there, woah, woah! Knock that out!”

“You’re shitting me right? I can’t do this anymore, Ed, I feel like I’ve actively gone insane,” you whine, bringing your hands up to the back of your neck. “You’re my best bet, no way I can see a doctor for this. I’ll get locked up or worse.”

There’s silence for a bit, before you hear the closure for Eddie’s box pop open. You sigh in relief and raise your head, pulling the hair out of your face. He’s not taking anything out, though; he’s putting something back in before closing the box again.

“Wait no, come on–” you start, but Eddie interrupts you with a hand help up.

“Ah, give me a second, I’m getting there,” he says, shoving his other hand in the inner pocket of his leather jacket. The small bag of weed he pulls out looks thoroughly and profoundly unremarkable.

“Dude I literally just said–”

“Have you always been this impatient, woman? Relax, this is from my,” Eddie pauses to clear his throat and leans forward with a grin. “Personal stash. Should be strong enough for you.”

“Are you saying you’ve been selling me baby’s first drugs until now?” You ask, crossing your arms. Eddie places a hand to his chest in mock offense and scoffs.

“I’m shocked and offended you would ever think so lowly of me. I thought we were cool!” You can’t help but at least chuckle at that and put your hands up in defeat.

“No, you’re totally right, my bad. I know you would only provide me with the finest wares. I had a moment of weakness, beg your forgiveness.”

Content with your playing along and the accompanying apology, Eddie pulls out a grinder from the box, rolling papers from a back pocket and gets to rolling. When he doesn’t immediately make a move to start a conversation, you decide to drown out the buzzing in your head yourself.

“How’s the Hellfire campaign going? Aren’t you having the party come up against a lich?” Eddie smirks and nods.

“Yeah, Vecna. They still have no idea though, they all still think he’s just a myth. I can’t wait to see their stupid faces when I tell ‘em he’s still alive when I tell them.”

“They’ll riot, I hope you know,” you laugh lightly, putting your chin in your hand on the table. You’d only sat in on one or two sessions, back when Eddie had been the youngest member of Hellfire. But if the theatrics and hysterics of those sessions were anything to go by, these guys got very emotionally attached to their games and characters.

“They can riot all they want, they’re gonna have to let the dice to the talking for them,” Eddie says, carefully rolling the ground bud into its paper. You open your mouth to say something, but stop yourself when you hear it.

The distant but unmistakable sound of a grandfather clock chiming.

“Ed,” you first say, apparently too quietly for him to hear. “Eddie. Hey, Munson,” you say, faster, tapping your hand on the table to catch his attention. Your eyes, meanwhile, are scanning the pathway you’d both come down for any movement. “Tell me you heard that.”

Eddie freezes and slowly brings his hands down to the table. When he doesn’t move or say anything, you turn back to him. His expression is... upsetting

“Dude no, don’t look at me like that,” you plead, leg bouncing under the table again.

“Depends what you heard,” he replies slowly, bringing the joint back up to his lips so he can seal it.

“I-I don’t know, like the chime of a grandfather clock? That thing they do every hour?”

Eddie shakes his head as he twists the end of the joint before putting it down on the table between you.

“I’m gonna be real with you, I don’t think this is gonna help you. You’re kind of starting to freak me out a bit, and that’s saying something.” Even the attempt at humour can’t really take the edge in his voice you refuse to acknowledge is a hint of fear.

“I’ll take my chances,” you mutter, reaching for the rolled joint with one hand and pulling a zippo lighter from your jacket pocket with the other. Thanks to Eddie’s rolling, it doesn’t take long to light up, and you can take your first actual drag almost right away. Your head already feels clearer by the time you take your second hit.

“Jesus slow down, you’re gonna suffocate,” Eddie cautions, reaching a hand out but not quite reaching you.

“If it knocks me out it knocks me out my guy,” you reply smoothly, blowing the smoke in his direction. You take a third, smaller hit before passing the joint over.

You can’t tell if it’s the weed that made it stop or if it stopped all on its own, but you’re relieved to find you can’t hear the stupid clock chiming anymore.

“...look,” you start, absently picking at the threads of a hole in your pants. “It’s not because I don’t trust you–”

“Hey, no, I get it,” Eddie says, cutting you off, passing you the joint back after a second hit. “No one wants to confide in the town freak, totally–”

It’s your turn to cut him off when you stand and reach over the table to slap him over the head.

“I told you to stop saying that shit, Munson!” You drop back down heavily onto the bench and take what’s maybe a bit too big of a hit from the joint before passing it back over. “I know I’m like, always the first person to say that if you think everyone else is the problem then you’re probably the problem but,” you take a second to cough lightly and clear your throat before continuing. “In this instance I think it’s perfectly justified to say that literally everyone’s an asshole to you for no damn reason.”

“It’s not for no reason,” Eddie replies lightly, and a bit too easily. “I run a cult, my dad’s in jail, I live in the bad part of town–”

“Yeah and none of that is your fault!” You frustratedly stomp at the ground under the table. “Come on! You don’t even actually run a cult. God forbid kids have fun doing shit, right? Jesus christ, don’t take that shit on for yourself!”

The joint burns between Eddie’s fingers and he just... sits there, staring at you like you’ve just confessed to murder.

“What. Why are you looking at me like that? You know I’m right!”

“Well, sure, I know that,” he replies, leaning back a little bit and taking another hit from the joint. “I’m just wondering what’s gotten into you that you’re this...” He gestures at you with both hands. “Whatever this is you are right now.”

“Whatever this is?“ you scoff, crossing your arms. ”Upset? Pissed off?“

“I was going for ‘slightly more unhinged than usual’ but that–yeah that works too.”

You twist your tongue against your teeth. You could probably talk... a little bit, right? You can probably spin it as just a weird run of the mill nightmare thing. Which just happens to involve people you happen to have seen around town when no one else did.

“It’s just...” you start, and when Eddie passes you the rest of the joint back, he leans his elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands. “I’ve been having nightmares about people dying, man,” you whisper, taking the last hit from the joint before stubbing it out underneath the table.

“Like, people you know people? Or just random dream people?”

“People I know people,” you confirm, resting your head against the table gently, this time. “There’s–man, I really don’t know if I should be telling you this,” you groan, bringing your hands up over your head. “There’s like, your whole Hellfire club there dude. I saw Steve Harrington get like, half eaten alive once, that was fucking miserable.” You take a second to breathe. Thankfully, all Eddie does is fold his hands on the table and let his head rest on them.

“Are Harrington and that Henderson kid close at all?” The question is out of your mouth before you can think much about it. Eddie sits up straight and leave his palms face down on the table. When you look up, he’s got a brow raised at you.

“I guess? When I first picked him up, Henderson couldn’t shut up about him,” Eddie say, exhaling sharply like he’d found something funny. “Still doesn’t shut up about him actua... hey, are you good?”

No, you’re in fact very not good. There’s no way, right? There’s no way that what you saw was real, right? There’s no way there’s a weird blip in the spacetime continuum that let you see Dustin Henderson freaking out over a very bloodied and injured Steve Harrington?

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” You say weakly, turning around and away from the table to put your head between your legs.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie mutters in a panic, and you can hear him trip over himself trying to get around the table do you. “You need a ride home? I can drop you off at the corner or something, you really don’t look too good.”

You wave him off to shut him up for a second, a hand over your mouth, desperately trying to control your breathing. Thinking about this kind of shit on an empty stomach and with a severe sleep deficiency wasn’t the greatest idea.

“I’ll be fine,” you eventually say, though a bit too quietly and not very convincingly. You try again. “I’m good. I just need to sleep.”

“Come on,” Eddie says, waving at you to get up. “I’ll take you home.”

You agree, with burning eyes and lungs that feel too small. You let Eddie help you into his van and close the door behind you. He does you the courtesy of keeping the volume low on whatever radio station he’d had one, and even if it’s not exactly warm out, lets you keep the passenger window down.

“You can drop me in front of my place,” you say, once you’re a few streets away. “My brother plays dungeons and dragons too, so they’re pretty acutely aware it’s not a satanic, baby-sacrificing cult.”

“You sure?” He asks, glancing over at you and gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. Your attempt at humour clearly didn’t work. “I don’t want to–”

“Just shut up and take me home, damn.”

Eddie still stops three houses away. You notice that he doesn’t leave until you’ve unlocked the door and turned around to wave him off. You think you see him nod before he pulls a u-turn and drives off.

Blessedly, no one’s home yet; your parents are still both up in Canada for some business trip your father needed to do, and your brother likely skipped town to go see his girlfriend for the weekend. Which gives you free access to your dad’s beer stash, entirely obviously hidden in the mini fridge in the basement, behind the old couch your mom’s been promising to reupholster soon.

You still close and lock your bedroom door just in case, after making sure the back and front doors were both locked, chained and deadbolted.

You’re half asleep in bed, trying very hard not to think about the nightmares that have been showing up with undesirably increasing frequency, when you feel it happening. A weird kind of pull that makes you feel weightless for a second, makes your stomach feel like it just up in your throat.

When you open your eyes, everything is dark and thick vines are covering your bedroom window from the outside.

“Shit, no, no no no,” you mutter in a panic, jumping out of bed and running to the window. What you can see through the vines is exactly what you’ve come to expect from this place. Ash falling from the sky, ominous red lightning in the distance. And a damp, cloying cold that makes you feel like you’ll never feel warmth again.

Swearing under your breath, you run down the stairs, through the kitchen, down into the basement and in the far back of your dad’s workshop. Having turned eighteen over a month ago, you’re blessing your lucky stars your dad decided to give you the combination for the gun safe. Nervous fingers keep missing the right digits, but you manage to get the damn thing open after a few tries.

And there it is: the family’s prized Winchester model 23, with several boxes of ammo at the bottom of the safe. You’re clumsy when you loaded up and almost drop the entire open box of shells, but eventually you get the thing locked and loaded. You’re about to head upstairs with just that and the shotgun shells, but turn around and grab the handgun before bounding back up the stairs.

This isn’t entirely unusual by now; you’ve seen this place every time you’ve had nightmares. Being an active participant is new, though. You’ve never been able to move around or touch anything, always a passive observer of goings-on.

It doesn’t sit right with you.

You sit cross-legged in the corner of you room, wedged between a wall and the edge of your desk. You have a clear line of sight to your window–not that you think it matters much with how absolutely covered it is–and your bedroom door, which you’ve pushed your bookcase again. And you wait.

You’re counting your blessings with being able to check your watch for the time, having apparently fallen asleep with it. Ten minutes pass. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirty. You hear things outside, in the distance. Nothing close by. Somehow that puts you on edge even more. Check the time one more time: you’ve been holed up in your room for nearly fourty five minutes now with literally nothing happening.

You lean the shotgun against the wall next to you and get up to pace around your room. This isn’t normal. You screw your eyes shut as hard as you can and try to open them slowly, a trick that usually helps to wake you up. But it’s not good; you’re still in the twisted, decayed-looking version of your room.

Growling in frustration, you go back up to your window to see if you can spot anything out on the streets. But somehow, the vines have covered even more surface and you can barely make out the outside at all. You slam your fist against the window to–

Oh no. Did those vines just move?

Just as you wrap your hand about the Winchester, you feel something wrap around your ankle and pull. You’re winded as soon as you hit the floor, can feel your skull hit the hardwood. Whatever it is starts to drag you towards the door–and ultimately, you assume, down the stairs and out the door–you twist around to see what it is that has you.

And it’s a vine. A fucking vine.

You don’t really think too long or hard about it. Take a deep breath, bring the gun up, aim about two feet beyond the tip of your toes, and pull the trigger.

The gunfire makes your ears ring and feels like it blinds you for a second, but when you look down you can see you’ve successfully shot the vine off. What was around your ankle falls limp to the floor.

“Oh my fucking god, what the fucking hell,” you say to yourself, standing up and looking around. “Where are you? Show yourself!”

Stupid. God what a stupid thing to say.

You bring the shotgun back up and switch between aiming at the window and the door.

Strange, you hear, and it’s both like there’s a voice inside your head and like it’s resonating everywhere all at once. You don’t belong here.

“Fuck you, buddy!” you spit, spinning around wildly in your room. “I didn’t choose to be here!”

Then leave.

Text divider my natasharomanovf

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson #fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #fanfic #fix-it fic #dungeons and dragons #fuck the season finale we're retconning the fuck out of shit #mention of drugs #mention of alcohol #guns #vecna #no y/n #second person pov #hey if anyone wants to beta read for me hmu #ravenloft

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lollypopsx · 3 years

Text

Flatmate! Harry: I’ll Make It Up To You - Part 1

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Part 2 - Part 3

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You was going to kill him. This was the last straw and you had used up every ounce of patience today.

“Harry Edward Styles! Get in here right now or I swear to fucking god you won’t ever breath again!” You shout, your hands clutching the towel wrapped around your body. Your hair styled in a bouncy blow dry with a full face of makeup, a brown smoky eye and a nude lip.

The two of you bicker and argue like enemies, laugh like the best of friends and love each other like a married couple. Although you were only flat mates and nothing had ever gone further than friends, you knew Harry would never see you in that way, however the tiniest part of you had always hoped one day you’d be proven wrong. But you knew all along you’d rather have him as a best friend than lose him all together.

You hear the footsteps round the corner and a grin like the Cheshire Cat plastered on Harrys face “Do you mind? I’m trying to write some music Y/N” he smirks.

“Where the hell are all my clothes?! And where the fuck is my guitar?!” You shout angrily. You were no stranger to practical jokes in this house, both giving and receiving them. But today was different. You had the most important audition of your lifetime, and half of your room had been emptied.

The laughter escaping Harry’s lips was making you angrier and angrier by the second. “I told you that you’d regret stealing my jumpers!” He smirks.

“That doesn’t mean you take everything I own! Now where to hell is it all?!”

“Ah now you see…this is where it gets fun…you see we’ve made you a little scavenger hunt to find it all. All you have to do is-”

“We?! Who’s we?!” You growl through gritted teeth.

“Ok ok…I can’t take all the credit for this…Niall helped. So…here’s the rules!”

“Harry!” You cut him off “I don’t have time for a fucking scavenger hunt! I have my audition in an hour and I’m already running late! Just get me some fucking clothes and my guitar so I can leave!”

As soon as you had mentioned your audition, the smug grin fell from Harrys face and his rosy cheeks had drained to pale “oh shit. T-that’s today?! I…I thought it was Friday” he frowns “w-well all your stuff is in Niall’s car and he’s in Brighton so I can just get him to drive back asap and…” he fumbles for his phone quickly.

“Brighton?! Harry you have 3 seconds to tell me this is a joke before I rip your pretty little head off! That’s 2 hours away Harry! I’ll never make it in time!”

“Y/N I’m so sorry! I am I really am, I would never have done this today if I knew” Guilt filling his eyes.

“You knew Harry! It’s written on the fridge, on the calendar and you helped me rehearse two days ago!”

“Why don’t I just go and buy you something to wear?” He offers, although he was currently terrified to speak incase his head really did get ripped off. He hadn’t seen you this angry since you pierced holes in three of your ex-boyfriends tyres after finding out he cheated.

“Well that’s pointless because I haven’t got my guitar and you don’t even have your acoustic guitar here. Forget it Harry. Just get out.” You mutter, your head hanging low in disappointment. Even if you left now you’d be late, and that was frowned upon. Turning up anywhere late was bad enough, let alone an audition. If you’re going to turn up late, then there’s no point turning up at all because you wouldn’t even be given a chance. The entertainment business was a difficult place to be, and this was your one chance to really make something bigger for yourself and it was ruined.

“Y/N I…”

“I said get out!” You scream, releasing the built up fury “go and join Niall in Brighton for all I fucking care. Leave me alone. I’m so disappointed Harry” you felt the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

The sight of you on the verge of tears was enough to break his heart. He wanted to protest, he wanted to make it all better. But he knew you too well. He knew if he didn’t leave you alone to calm down then it would make everything worse than it already was. He had never felt so guilty. In the 4 years you had lived together, practical jokes never made either of you angry. Sure they were embarrassing at times, but you two always had the best of times. At what made it even worse this time was that he had made you cry…and you’d used the ‘D’ word on him!

Harry had left, shutting the front door quietly as he headed to the studio to get out of your hair for a few hours. Also calling Niall in the process to get him to get the fuck home asap. It may have seemed like a pretty extreme joke, but they didn’t intend it to turn out this way. The plan was that the scavenger hunt would lead you to Brighton with Harry to meet Niall there, and the three of you would spend the day and night by the beach, shopping, drinking, eating...everything that you loved to do.

As hours passed, you found yourself tucked under the mountain of blankets on the sofa, wearing a pair of Harry’s boxers, joggers and a white hoodie. Which you purposely chose because your makeup rubbed off on the collar and the sleeves as you wiped your tears.

You felt deflated and disappointed. You should have been more prepared...no actually, Harry shouldn’t of been a dick. You knew he didn’t mean to jeopardize your audition, but these auditions didn’t come along often and part of you just wasn’t ready to let this go yet.

Harry crept in quietly, although you didn’t hear him, or at least you didn’t want to. “ Hey...Y/N” he whispers softly, walking through the living room door cautiously.

“Hm?” you mutter, not allowing yourself to speak a word to him, and especially making sure your eyes were glued to Netflix, not giving him the satisfaction of paying attention.

“I...I got you these” He whispers, placing a big bouquet of red roses and white lilies on the glass coffee table in front of you. You looked straight passed them “Oh wow...maybe I should send these over to the directors and producers to say sorry and maybe they can make an exception for little Y/N to try again!” you state sarcastically, but your facial expression staying as blank as possible.

He sighs softly and perches himself on the arm of the sofa, he gently pulls your shoulders back for you to rest your back against his thigh. “I know it doesn’t change what I did Y/N, and believe me if I could of changed anything I would, and if I could turn back time, I’d do anything”

“You really fucked up Harry” you whisper, your voice cracking gently as you wiped your tears on the sleeve of his hoodie. “You don’t get it. You’re Harry Styles and you get everything handed to you on a plate because everyone already knows who you are! You’ve done what like...three auditions in your life and you’ve succeeded every single one. It’s not like that for me. I spent hours and hours practicing. And weeks just writing these songs in hope they get heard one day and now they won’t because word spreads really quick in this industry.” You still couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because you hated people seeing you cry.

He sighed softly, staying silent as he pulled you up gently and sitting himself underneath you as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. He was always the first to help you rehearse when you had an audition, the first to comfort you if it went wrong or you didn’t succeed, and the first to celebrate and congratulate you when you did get it. Unfortunately, this time no one will ever know how it would have gone. He knew he couldn’t say much else because he knew you were right.

You wanted to resist, but instead you buried your face into his chest and whimpered softly. As disappointed as you were, you knew Harry was truly sorry and he’d hang onto this guilt for a while. He held you close as his gentle fingers raked through your hair.

“I’ve put everything back in your room, all folded and neat” He whispers “I’ll make it up to you. I promise” He kept his arms around you supportively, although his chest was heavy with guilt, he already had a plan conjuring in his mind.

—————————

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #one shot #hslot #flatmate!harry #roommate!harry #angst #lollypopsx #fanfic #imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #one direction

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Home

Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: mentions of Diana’s Alzheimer’s and Schizophrenia, prison, separation of father and daughter, swearing

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy my new fic! this may be about 8 chapters or so! i’m not sure yet, going to see how interested people are in the plot :) (also quick disclaimer: i have never been in the foster care system so please excuse any inaccuracies)

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Spencer never wanted his daughter to see him like this, being brought into the BAU bullpen in handcuffs. He was supposed to be the good guy.

Right now, he couldn’t tell if he still was. He had good intentions going down to Mexico to get non-FDA approved medicine for his mom but he may have killed someone in the process. If only he could just remember.

Camellia ran into his arms to hug him, a hug he so desperately wanted to return if it wasn’t for these stupid cuffs around his wrists.

“They can’t just take you away, Dad,” she cried.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to get back to you as soon as possible,” he promised, kissing the top of her head.

Spencer felt absolutely crushed as the guards had to drag his crying 11-year-old off of him so he could be taken to his holding cell.

You had just gotten off of work when your phone rang. Eileen, the head foster care coordinator, was calling.

“Hello,” you answered.

“Hey Y/N,” she greeted you, “I know you haven’t had a foster kid in a few months but I kind of have an urgent case. 11-year-old sixth grade girl. Mom has been out of the picture for a while, Dad recently imprisoned and on trial for murder. There are a bunch of family friends willing to take her but no direct family,” she explained.

“I can take her for as long as she needs,” you told Eileen.

“Great! I’ll text you the address, it’s the FBI headquarters.”

When you walked into the BAU, still in your dino scrubs and white lab coat, Eileen was surrounded by a frantic group of people.

“As I said before, I don’t doubt any of your credentials but this is the law. We can only give away a child to direct family at this point in time. If you are not direct family, you will need a lawyer to fight for custody as well as permission from her father but that process could take months,” Eileen stated.

“Spencer hasn’t spoken to his father in years and his mother is in a facility for her schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s,” a dark-haired woman spoke.

“Exactly so she must be turned over to the foster care system. I apologize to you all but this is how it works. We can’t bend the rules,” Eileen said.

“I don’t want Callie fending for herself in a house with 20 other kids,” a blonde-haired woman argued, “I’m her godmother. She stays with me all the time. She was staying with me while Spencer was in Mexico.”

“Sorry, my answer is still no. But, hopefully this will squash your concerns, Y/N!” she called you over, “This is Y/N. Jo will be placed with her. She is a pediatric doctor and currently has no other foster kids at the moment but all of her past kids have absolutely adored her. She always passes her surprise safety and wellness checks with flying colors.

“Hi,” you waved, intimidated by this huge group of frustrated people with guns on their hips.

“A doctor? So she isn’t even going to be home most of the time,” a curly-haired man scoffed.

“Actually, I own my own practice. I don’t work at a hospital so I usually have a regular 8-4 shift unless one of my patients needs urgent attention,” you clarified.

“JJ, don’t make me go,” a girl, who you could only assume was Callie, sobbed.

They were all staring at you like you were the worst person on Earth. You wanted to shrivel up and die. When you went through the process of becoming a foster parent, you thought this was a very admirable thing to do. You just wanted to provide a good home to kids in need.

“Do any of you have a key to Dr. Reid’s residence so Camellia can pack a bag?” you asked politely.

The woman closest to Callie that must be JJ pulled a key off of her chain and handed it to you.

“I’ll-um-leave my phone number and address here so you guys can contact me at any time or stop by. I understand your concerns but please know I try my absolute hardest to make sure all kids feel welcome and safe in my house,” you scribbled your information down on a scrap piece of paper.

“Are you ready to go, Camellia?” you asked softly.

She went around hugging everyone in the circle before solemnly nodding to you.

God, you felt like such an asshole.

After Callie finished packing her things from her bedroom in relative silence, you returned to the car.

“I don’t know what you like to eat but we can stop at the grocery store so we can get stuff you like and any other things you need,” you said.

You were met with silence from the backseat. You offered for her to sit in the passenger seat but she declined.

“Listen, I’m really not trying to be the bad guy here. Please don’t make me out to be one. I know you are having a tough time with your Dad’s situation right now but shutting everyone else out won’t help,” you spoke softly, “Trust me, I know.”

You sighed when the silence continued. You pulled out of the Reid’s driveway and headed to the grocery store.

You let Callie lead when you entered the grocery store, opting to follow behind her with the cart. She went immediately to the frozen meal section and started throwing them in.

“Camellia, that’s fine if those are what you want but just so you know, I love to cook so I can make you anything you want,” you offered.

“This is what I’m used to,” she spoke sharply, “My dad is not a bad dad, he just usually doesn’t have much time.”

“I never claimed he was,” you defended yourself.

After that, you kept your mouth shut. Clearly, she was a very independent girl and she had her own routine she liked to stick to.

You hauled all the grocery bags inside the house and unloaded them as Callie brought in her suitcases.

“So Camellia, I put all the food you picked out in these two cabinets. I mean obviously, you are welcome to anything in the kitchen but I just wanted you to know where the things you picked out were. I always have a grocery list on the fridge that you can add to,” you began to give her a tour of the house, “Bathroom is in there. There’s another upstairs. Here’s the living room with a TV,” you headed up the stairs, “Here’s my room.”

On your bed was an adorable toyger kitten cuddled up on your pillow.

“Oh! This is Winnie like Winnie the Pooh. I just got her a few weeks ago from a shelter. She is super friendly and loves snuggles so she will probably try to sneak into your bed unless you keep your door closed.”

“I don’t mind,” Callie spoke softly as she petted Winnie.

You smiled softly. These were the first words you got out of her that weren’t a rejection.

You continued the tour, “There’s a bathroom between our rooms but I tend to use the downstairs one so feel free to make it your own. And here’s your room,” you opened the door to a white room with a queen bed in the center, a small bookshelf, a few plants, and paintings.

“I hope this is good enough for now. We can go out this weekend to a home goods store if you want to redecorate. I’d even be open to repainting it if you want,” you offered.

Callie just set her bags down and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be. I’ll probably be downstairs for a while watching TV if you want to join. Let me know if you want me to make you anything,” you began to shut the door but Winnie slipped in first.

“Good night, you guys,” you smiled softly.

“Do you want me to wait out here or come in with you?” you asked softly.

Spencer had been denied bail, meaning he was transferred to a federal prison and Callie was going to be staying with you for a while. She had taken the news rather hard as expected when the team came over to your house to tell her. You still weren’t really accepted by the group so you mostly stood in the corner of the kitchen while they were all in your living room.

You had spoken to Eileen several times about Callie’s current situation. She gave you permission to do whatever you saw fit. This means you could opt her out of school one or two days a week if she wasn’t feeling up to it as long as she emailed her teachers and got her missed work in on time. You were researching different therapists for her to talk to because she didn’t seem to want to open up to you. You were also given a schedule of visiting times for her to visit her dad in prison.

“I’ll just go in alone,” she walked in the door to the visiting room, leaving you in the waiting room.

“Dad,” Callie tried to hug Spencer but the guard pointed to the ‘No Touching’ sign posted on the wall.

They both sat down defeatedly at opposite ends of the table.

“How are you?” Callie inquired, wiping her tears away from seeing her father locked up.

“I don’t want to talk about me, sweetheart. How are you? Emily and my lawyer visited yesterday and told me you had to be placed into foster care,” Spencer asked, concerned.

“It’s okay. Not the best,” she sighed.

“What’s happening? Are they hurting you? Are they not giving you enough to eat? Callie, I’ll have my lawyer on the phone and you out of there so quick,” Spencer frantically stated.

“No, Dad. Y/N is fine…nice, even. But she’s not you,” Callie cried.

Spencer’s face softened, “I’m so sorry, Callie. You don’t deserve to be dealing with any of this.”

“Just please come home,” she sniffled.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, I’m really trying,” he replied earnestly with tears in his eyes.

A/N: i will also be starting a series taglist if you don’t want to be added to my main taglist so just clarify which one you want to join! also i recommend listening to the song Home by Phillip Phillips because it is kind of like the theme song for this story

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds

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lilith-jean-stark · 3 years

Text

Secrets

Warnings: none!

Summary: You and Peter find out each other’s secrets by accident.

A/n: I’ll be setting up a blurb night soon! So stay tuned 😎

You got off the train and made your way to school. Another boring day at mid-town high. Being the sister of Tony Stark had its perks, but it also had its downsides. No one knew that you were Tony’s sister, but you had to admit that being the secret sister was nice because you didn't have people up in your face all the time, except Peter Parker. Peter Parker was the only one who knew your secret. You and Peter had been friends for years and up until a couple weeks ago he had no idea about your secret. You stupidly were doing work for Tony in your notebook while having lunch at school one day, when Peter happened to sit next to you.

*flashback*

"Ugh this formula isn't working." You thought to yourself. Maybe it was just this noisy cafeteria that was making it difficult to think.

"Hey whatcha doing?" Peter said sliding beside you on the bench. Peters eyes widened "Stark industries?" He said a bit too loudly.

"Peter shush!" You snapped and scurried to get your notes into your book bag.

"What are you doing with formulas from Stark industries?" Peter whispered.

"That's not what it is." You rolled your eyes, "silly Peter." You booped his nose with your index finger.

Peter blushed, "uhm yes y/n it is, uh," he stuttered then shook his head to break his gaze with you, "Yes it is, I have an internship, I've seen them."

"I can't say." You groaned, annoyed he didn't take the nose boop as bait to change the subject.

"Come on, it's not like I'd tell anyone." He whined.

"Okay fine, but you have to swear that you won't tell anyone." You said sticking your pinky out for the two of you to pinky swear.

"I swear." Peter said locking his pinky with yours.

You leaned in and whispered "Tony Stark is my older brother and I kinda own part of Stark industries."

"No way!" Peter looked at me in shock.

"Yes way, but it's not a big deal." You laughed and showed him a picture of you and Tony with your parents before they died.

"Wow, he's pretty cool, isn't he?" Peter said in awe.

"Maybe to you because of your internship, but as a brother he's kinda lame." You smirked and nudged Peter with your elbow, to let him know you were only joking.

*end flashback*

You smiled to yourself at how understanding Peter had been about keeping your identity from him. You stood at your locker and sorted the books you needed for class into your bag.

"Y/n!" You heard Peter shout from the other end of the hall.

You waved to him and he jogged down the hallway to you.

"How's it hanging Parker?" You asked as he leaned against the locker next to yours.

"You ready for that Chem test tomorrow?" He asked.

You rolled your eyes, you and Peter had known each other for years and he still forgets that you’re pretty much a genius.

"Sorry forgot we have a prodigy here." Peter put his hands up in defense. "Actually May has been asking about you, she wants you to come over for dinner tonight." He said, crossing his arms.

"Peter you didn't tell her did you?" You said in a hushed voice.

"What? No! She asked what you've been up to, because you know she hasn't seen you around in awhile. So I lied..." Peter trailed off and looked at you with hopeful eyes. "I said you had an internship at Stark industries too."

You laughed slightly, "I'll send Tony a text and let him know I won't be home for dinner.

"Sweet, you're not mad?" He asked.

"No peter I'm not mad. You're actually a genius for telling her that." You smiled at him for being so sweet and for protecting your secret. Even though you knew he was dying to tell Ned and pretty much anyone who would listen.

"Oh and Ned might be by later too. He's got this lego Death Star he wants to build." Peter said staring to get all giddy.

"Wait, didn't you two build that a couple months ago?" You raised an eyebrow curiously at him.

Peters face went red, "oh yea i meant he needed help with his homework." He said quickly and started off down the hall, "gotta go gonna be late for class."

You sighed and headed to class. You didn't think anything of Peters weird behavior, due to the fact that Peter was sometimes scatter brained.

Peter got to math class and sat next to Ned.

"You can't come over tonight." Peter whispered to him.

"Why not , the Death Star isn't going to build itself Peter."

"Y/n is coming over for supper and she thinks we already put it together. She'll get suspicious." Peter whisper yelled.

"Fine, but it wouldn't have to be rebuilt if someone didn't make me drop it." Ned rolled his eyes at him "And you haven't told her about you know what yet?"

"No I can't Ned." He mumbled.

Later after school peter went and did his usual spider man stuff. He was just about done and was heading home and then realized that he had forgot about you. He raced home and climbed into his room through the window. His bedroom door was already shut, so he dropped to the floor and took his mask off.

The door opened, "hey Peter, May said to make myself at home..." you started to say, your eyes focused on your phone.

Peter quickly pressed his suits release button and let it fall to the floor, then kicked it under his bed.

"She said I'd find you in..." You stopped short of yourself when you looked up from your phone, to see Peter standing there in front of you in his boxers. It was just like Ned all over again, Peter had thought to himself.

"Woah Sorry Parker." You put your hands up in defense and smirked, holding back laughter. You stood there staring at him and laughed, "I guess I should have knocked."

Peter blushed, "Aunt May, can you please stop letting people in my room without knocking!" He shouted.

"I'll go check out what May is up too and come back when your dressed." You said.

"No, its fine!" Peter said, grabbing a sweatshirt and pulling on pants.

"Why were you in your underwear anyway?" You asked.

"I was warm." He lied.

You shut the door and glared at Peter. "You better not be lying to me. You realize that I have access to the worlds largest data pool, if I want to know something, I’ll find out."

"Look Y/n, i am not lying." Peter almost couldn't get the words out. You frightened him sometimes, you were very confident and fierce, never caring what others thought of you.That and you were smarter than him and you were pretty much one of the most powerful people in America with being a stark. Even if Peter was a good liar, you could still tell whether he was lying or not and if looks could kill, you would be shooting daggers from your eyes.

Peter watched you as you tilted your head to look behind him. "So what's that?" You pointed to the underneath of his bed.

"Nothing, just stuff."

"Peter?" You pushed past him and grabbed his Spider-Man suit and pulled it out from under the bed.

"You just happen to have a bright red leotard?" You questioned and then spread it out before he could rip it out of her hands. "Peter!!!!" You gasped and dropped the suit, "That's spider mans suit, I built that!" You shot him a look, "wait are you Spider-Man?" You asked as your eyes grew wide with realization.

"Yes." Peter said annoyed and grabbed the suit, hiding it in his bookbag. Then he realized what you had said, his eyes widened "you built that?!"

You grabbed the bookbag and pulled the suit from it. "Yes I did, Tony asked me to do a suit for some spider guy. I didn't think he was talking about you!" You exclaimed and examined the suit. "What did he tell you about the suit?” You asked.

"Mr. Stark said he made it." Peter said nervously.

"God of course he did.” You rolled your eyes. “Anyway that's besides the point, you're Spider-Man and you've been using my tech to help you fight crime? Did Tony tell you about the formulas too!? Is that why you caught me in the cafeteria." You looked anxious and kept looking at the suit.

"No, the formula I noticed was mine..." Peter looked down at his hands.

"Wait, the spider web goo, you made that?" You looked at him in disbelief.

"Yes I did, I gave the formula to Mr. Stark because he wanted to see if he could improve it. Then he told me to leave it how it was. I was confused when I saw you with it because Mr. Stark was the only person I told. So I figured you had to be working on Stark industries stuff if you had my web formula." Peter explained.

"Peter that's the coolest chemical reaction I've ever seen! I love playing with that stuff!" You said excitedly.

Peter blushed and you pulled him into a hug. “Let’s get out there before May starts getting suspicious.” You said almost as a hum, you were as happy as could be and even happier now that you and Peters secrets were out.

#peter parker oneshot #tom holland x female reader #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #mcu fanfiction #spiderman #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #tony stark #iron man #iron fam #anthony edward stark #tom holland x y/n

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itsallyscorner · 4 years

Note

request:

maybe like a part 2 where the reader was a singer!

but maybe like everyone in the marvel cast goes to the sweetener world tour to suprised them n congratulate them?

Thank you for the request, hun! I appreciate you for reading my other stuff and suggesting a part 2! Now that I think about it, I might make the whole singer thing into its own series of imagines and headcanons! Just a thought🥰 Happy reading!❤️

A/n: I’ve never been to an Ari concert, so I don’t know the set list, but enjoy my loves❤️

💌.

Sweetener

(She’s so pretty ugh)

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You leaned forward making sure your makeup was all good and to check if your lipstick has smeared onto your face.

“Everything good, hun?” Your makeup artist, Perrie, chirped from behind you. You took a step back, getting one more look.

“Yes Ma’am.” You turned to her and she was holding up the familiar bottle of setting spray.

“One more spray for good measure.” She motioned for you to close your eyes and you did. You breathed in through your nose as you felt the vibrations of the arena. The mix of the music playing out on stage mixed with the cheering of your fans added to your adrenaline.

The tour was finally at Inglewood, California, the last stop of the Sweetener World Tour. You had been traveling around the world for the past 10 months, performing every night in a different country or state. As tiring as it sounded, you absolutely loved the experience. Not only were you traveling and seeing new places, you were meeting your fans from different countries and doing what you loved. After 101 shows and 3 tour legs, it was finally coming to an end. The ending of tour was always bittersweet. You’ve been traveling with multiple people and crew who have grown to be another family. You were going to miss them so much but it was time for you to go back home to your real family. Not only have you missed your parents and siblings, but you also needed the rest. 10 months of nonstop traveling definitely took a toll on you. But nonetheless, it was all worth it.

“All done!” You opened your eyes to see Perrie smiling at you.

“Thank you so much!” You pulled her into a hug as your eyes began to water. You groaned playfully and tilted your head back.

“I’m gonna miss you doing my makeup everyday. Ugh, I haven’t even gone out on stage yet and I’m crying already.” You laughed through tears as Perrie began to protest.

“(Y/n), I swear if you mess up your makeup, you’re never going to hear the end of it. Cry later!” She laughed as she tried to get you to stop the tears from falling.

She gripped onto your arms and yelled, “NO TEARS LEFT TO CRY REMEMBER?” You bursted out laughing at her reference. You waved your hands at your eyes and when they finally felt normal, you looked straight.

“Okok, I think I’m good.” You released a breath as you smiled sweetly at her, “I love you!” You giggled pulling her into another hug.

“I love you too, darling. Have fun out there, you’re going to do amazing like always.” She squeezed you tight before letting you go. Victoria, one of your dancers and friend, peaked her head into the room.

“You ready? They’re waiting for you in the circle.” She informed you holding a hand out. The circle was like a pre-show ritual you had backstage with all the dancers and crew. You took her hand as you all walked out the makeup room. Your heels clicked against the floors, echoing in the hallway. The closer you got to the stage the louder the fans got and the stronger the vibrations got.

The circle was already gathered with all the dancers and crew. When Scott, another one of your dancers and friend, noticed you he began to cheer. Everyone followed along as you entered the circle. You were tucked in between Scott and Brian, who were twins. The two have been your dancers since the beginning and still are how many years later. You were truly grateful for them and everyone who was included in your Sweetener family.

“Damn. Last show ya’ll!” You began causing them to all cheer. You waited till they quieted down, shyly laughing, before continuing.

“Um, I don’t wanna get all emotional and shit right before going on stage. I’m gonna look like a mess out there with my mascara running down my face. Perrie I’m sorry!” You laughed. “I just wanna say, thank you to every single one of y’all. You guys have been the most fucking amazing people to work with. You guys have been working day and night to make the show as spectacular as it is and I love you all so much. You guys are my family and I can’t wait to write another album so I can tour with y’all again. I just want to hug every single one of you, you guys mean so much to me. Like literally, from the bottom of my heart I love all of you so much. I know I’ve said that like multiple times, but I really mean it. Y’all are gonna get a fatass check after this.” You finished making everyone laughing again. By now a few tears have made its way down your face. You even saw a few people’s eyes well up.

You laughed as you heard a chorus of “I love yous” as everyone squeezed in for a group hug.

“Alright! That’s enough crying, let’s get this show on the road!” You cheered to help everyone from crying. Everyone moved out the circle and got into places.

Before you can get in place, Perrie pulled you aside to fix up your makeup. Your stylists began smoothing out your skirt and making sure your knee high boots were securely on. Next was to get your earpiece on while one of the stage hands gave you your mic. From backstage you could hear the intro to the concert playing causing the fans to scream louder.

You got into place as you got the signal to start singing. You sang the opening lyrics of Raindrops (An Angel Cried) and began to smile as your fans sang along.

The platform began to move up when you finished and the beat of God Is A Woman began to play. You were now on the stage, the sea of white lights looking back at you. The adrenaline was still running through your veins. You performed the song, acing every move of the dance you’ve learned 10 months ago.

When the last note of God Is A Woman played, all the lights turned off except for the red lights on the stage.

“INGLEWOOD!” You yelled into your mic, your fans cheering even louder than before. You shared an excited smile with Brian.

“Welcome to the Sweetener World Tour!” And with that the opening notes of Bad Idea began to play, the show finally kicking off.

You were in the middle of singing R.E.M which was part of Act 2 of the concert. You moved towards the pit to see familiar faces beaming up at you.

“Boy, you’re such a drea— oh my god!” You squealed as you saw the pit full of your Marvel cast mates. You saw all the Chris’, both of the Tom’s, Robert, Scarlett, Elizabeth, almost everyone you’ve worked with in Marvel was there. You got down to your knees to touch their outstretched hands.

The fans screamed as the camera from stage panned down to the pit where all the actors were. You took the mic away from your mouth and leaned down to them.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked them through the loud arena.

Scarlett, Brie, and Lizzie were the nearest to the stage.

“We’re here to surprise you! It’s your last show and we wanted to be here for it!” Scarlett yelled over the track that was playing.

“We’ll catch up later, keep going!” Lizzie urged you to continue the concert with a toothy grin.

You held onto Brie’s hand as you sang to them, “Inglewood let me hear ya’ll! Excuse me um...”

“I LOVE YOU!” The fans sang back to you, including your cast mates. You dusted your knees off and continued to walk around the ramp. Before you could leave, you sent an excited wave to Brie and the rest of them.

~After the show~

You hopped off the platform that brought you down from the stage and were greeted by a bunch of congratulations and cheering. You and your dancers shared another group hug.

“(Y/N)!” You heard a familiar voice yell. You follow the voice and see Anthony waving at you with his infamous grin. He was accompanied by the rest of the cast behind him. You run towards them and jump into Anthony’s outstretched arms.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sweaty, but I’m so happy to see all of you!” You wrapped your arms around Anthony’s neck as he spun the two of you around. He let you go and you were suddenly being pulled into hugs by everyone.

When you got to Robert, a proud smile was on his face as he cradled your face, “Sweetheart, that was amazing. You’ve outdone yourself.” He pressed a fatherly kiss to your forehead and pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you.” You laughed, your eyes welling up with tears once again. Next was Chris (E) who playfully shoved Robert.

“Stop it, you’re hogging her! Let me hug (y/n)!” He childishly whined. He gasped when he saw your eyes watering.

“And you made her cry! C’mere.” His arms enveloped around you as he hugged you tightly.

In your ear his whispered, “You absolutely killed it.”

You thank him and move on to Scarlett who already had her arms out for you, “Surprise!”

“This was your idea?” You asked her as she hugged you. A cheeky grin quirked on her lips.

“Maybe” she teased dragging the ‘e’. You hugged her again as she laughed into your shoulder.

“Thank you, Scar. This means so much.”

“It’s not a problem, honey. We just wanted to see you together while you did your thing up on stage.”

You were now full on crying through a smile as your Marvel family showed you mass amounts of love. You stumbled into Tom (Holland) who instantly grabbed you into a bear hug. Tom’s actually seen your show in London with his friends and brothers, so this was his second time seeing you perform.

“You know what’s so crazy?” He asked you leaning down to your ear so you can hear him.

“What?”

“It’s literally just as great as it was in London. Like everything looks the same, you sound exactly the same, everything! The show was fantastic!” He looked at you with wide eyes with so much amazement on his face.

You laughed at him and patted his shoulder, “Thank you, Tom.”

Suddenly there was a commotion a few feet away from you. You saw Robert standing on one of the cases your crew used to store equipment in.

“ATTENTION EVERYONE!” When everyone backstage was looking at him Robert sent them a sweet smile and was handed a megaphone.

“Alright, so I gotta say, (y/n), you definitely know how to throw a show. Everyone who was part of this tour, your hard work pays off because that show was the most fun I’ve had in a while! (Y/n), you keep surprising us everyday with your talent and I hope you get to do more of what you love in the future. As my way of thanking you all for throwing such an amazing night, I want to take out every single one of you for dinner! I just rented out a whole restaurant just for all of us and I hope to see all of you there!” Robert said into the megaphone. A round of cheers and claps were heard from everyone at the announcement. As everyone began to file out, you were being called to get out of your costume.

Before you can turn to leave you hugged Robert and looked at all your cast mates who showed up for the night.

“Thank you guys for being here, it really means a lot.” You sniffled, wiping a tear from your face.

“And you, I can’t believe you rented out a restaurant for my crew, thank you Robert.” The older man just waves you off as he slung his arm around your shoulder.

“Not a problem, sweetheart. We wanted to be here and we are all so proud of you, you’ve come a long way, (y/n).” He gave your shoulders a squeeze.

“Now run along now, you still need to get changed and I’m starving. Go.” He teasingly turned you towards your stylists. You rolled your eyes as you waved at all of them.

“We’ll see you at the restaurant!” You heard Brie yell after you. You quickly turn back, “OK, I LOVE YOU!”

The further you got you heard Evans scream, “I LOVE YOU TOO!” You turned down the hall, your laugh echoing against its walls.

That was definitely one way to end a tour.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #chris evans #chris evans x reader #marvel cast x teen!reader #marvel cast x reader #robert downey jr x reader #Scarlett Johansson x reader #anthony mackie x reader #brie larson x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #Brie Larson #Scarlett Johansson #anthony mackie #robert downey jr #ally’s requests

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