#but if anyone has other ideas they’d like me to follow with this story

[shywhumpauthor]

I think I have a semi-coherent plot laid out for Whumpuary, if anyone’s interested. Right now it’s looking like it’ll be around 25 parts maybe, not including drabbles I may write along the way or possible side arcs

[theredflagsjustlooklikeflags]

Hello! Omg I'm so excited you're writing for death note! Can i get a gender neutral reader who maybe helps light or saves his life by pulling him out of the way of a car or something, and he becomes fixated on the and kind of like dedicates his cause as kira towards them?

Of course, love . Sorry for the delay. Death Note has always been one of my favorite shows to write for so I’m a more then thrilled to fulfill your request. Hope you enjoy the story!

Innocence (Yandere! Light Yagami X Reader)

Trigger warnings: I don’t think there are any for this story, but if I missed one, let me know)

Light Yagami needed to follow his normal routine and arrive home. He only had short amount of time where he could write names in the Death Note. Light was cleansing the world, one criminal at a time. In time, he will become the god of the new world.

Although, one thing always troubled him. When he did in fact elimante L, where would Light go from there?

The simple answer was he’d continue killing those making the world rotten and Kira’s reign would prosper.

Wouldn't it be lonely ruling the world by himself? Light never paid that idea much thought. He would never find someone who’d meet his ideals and intellect.

What Light didn’t account for was someone special making their way into his life.

The teenager was in deep thought as he made their way out of the school grounds in the pouring rain.

Without warning, a force hit Light. His umbrella went flying through the air until it cascades onto the drenched sidewalk. He braced himself and closed his eyes as he waited for the fall, but it never came.

Light cautiously opened his eyes to see what stopped him from landing on the ground. The seventeen year old wasshocked to find a good looking high schooler holding tightly onto his arm.

He noticed they were wearing a uniform extremely similar to his own. This mystery person had to have be attending the same school. They were very attractive so Light figured they were probably pretty popular. If that were the case, how come Light couldn’t recognize them. He knew everyone in his classes and he was certainly popular himself. The teen contemplated over the idea that they could be a transfer but Light came to the conclusion that that couldn’t have been the case. He’d be most likely been asked to show them around. The teen would nevee forget a persons face that was constructed like a god/goddess.

Once Light regained his composure, ( Reader) let go of him and leaned down to pick up Light’s discarded umbrella. They handed it out towards him and released an apologetic smile.

Once Light held the umbrella, the other person gave a low bow. They spoke softy, but Light could still hear them over the pitter patter of the rain.

“Please forgive me, Yagami-san. I apologize for hurting you. A car was swerving and looked like it was heading straight towards you.”

(Reader) was terrified to look up from their position. They’d figure Light would simply glare and start to reprimand them. They didn’t have much experience with popular kids.

“Oh, It’s alright, uh…” The teen trailed off, hoping the other would finish his sentence.

“(Reader’s full name).”

“That was very brave of you.” (Reader) looked up at him, puzzled.

“Thank you, but I’m sure anyone would of helped you. I’m no one special.”

“I’m not so certain of that.” Light smiled a bit.

Reader simply nodded in response. The teen expected that to be the end of their discussion with Light Yagami but he did something that shocked them.

Light held out the umbrella so it was protecting both (Reader) and himself from the downpour. This small act of kindness meant the world to (Reader), as they tended to always be ignored by their peers.

The high schooler motion for them to walk together.

How could they possibly refuse Light’s offer without looking rude? If Light Yagami thought (Reader) was rude then they could kiss the days of being a nobody goodbye. They didn’t know much about the teenage boy besides the fact that he was popular and top of the class in terms of intelligence. (Reader) feared they would become the topic of what those kids whisper in the hallway. They’d become the focus of their cold glares.

So they walked with Light.

The two students made causal conversation as they made their way down the street. At first it was awkward but soon they were joking with each other as if they were old friends. Light found out that (Reader) was in almost all of his classes. They explained how they tended ti keep quiet and lurk in the background.

Each word (reader) spoke, resulted in Light coming to the conclusion that made the type of person that Kira was trying to protect.

They were good,hard working, honest and most of all innocent.

He needed to protect them. No, Kira would protect (Reader) and those like them.

He may of just found his partner. Someone to rule the world with him.

“I can’t wait to make you mine, (Reader).” Light muttered to himself.

(Reader) pretended to be oblivious to what her new acquaintance said but in truth, they heard him and they didn’t know what to think.

[perotovar]

bloody kisses — part two: i don't wanna be me

pairing: shane morrissey/tim rockford rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 6.6k content: vaguely takes place in the 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, descriptions of a crime scene/injury (bullet wound and head trauma)(not shane or tim), heavy petting, oral (male receiving), protected p in a, discussions of dom/sub and top/bottom, tiny bit of misogyny (shane is ignorant af and it's like 2002 lol), first time bottoming, shane's internal battles, tim being a really fucking good partner, f e e l i n g s, seriously this is sappy y'all, if i missed anything lmk! dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @chronically-ghosted (seriously i can't explain how much taylor has helped with this story, go give her some love!)

series summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

series masterlist

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Shane locked himself in his bedroom for three days after the disaster at Tim’s apartment. He’s never felt so stupid in his life. How could he just… kiss him like that? 

Why did he do that?

He thought about that moment constantly, for hours at a time. Tim’s lips, for how briefly they’d touched his own, felt so… correct. They were soft, a little chapped, but warm. It was like things clicked into place for him. He doesn’t remember any kisses with Raven ever feeling like that. Or any girl he’d been with, for that matter. 

He hated himself for how good it felt. Especially because Tim ended it before it ever really began.

Shane wasn’t sure if there was anyone else he could go to about any of this. Legally, he still lived with his mom and her husband in their downtown apartment, but they never saw each other. He basically had his own area of the apartment to himself. His mom and her husband made enough that they didn’t really notice or care what Shane did with his life. He didn’t have any goals, and he guessed that’s why he did petty crimes like he did. He was just so fucking bored.

And now he was dealing with… this. 

He stared at Tim’s business card, his thumb rubbing over the older man’s name. He was curled up on his bed, holding one of his pillows close. He looked at the clock on his bedside table. The bright green text read 2:18am. He sighed to himself and rolled over onto his back.

He wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.

Nobody noticed a change in Tim at work. If they did, they were professional enough not to bring it up. He felt fucking awful for how things went down with Shane. He wanted to reciprocate so badly, but Shane was vulnerable and Tim didn’t want to take advantage of him like that.

“Boss, I got those files you needed.”

Tim looked up from his desk, pen still in hand while he filled out the paperwork for a robbery he’d taken care of the day before. He’d thought about Shane and his magazine the entire time. “Thank you,” he grunted, pointing at an empty spot on his desk. “Can just set it there, please.”

The agent set it down and took off, getting back to work.

Tim looked back down at the file he was working on and sighed, losing his focus. He looked over at the phone on his desk and frowned. He didn’t have Shane’s number so he couldn’t call him. He wanted to tell Shane that what happened wasn’t wrong, or even unwanted.

The sound of heavy footsteps brought him out of his thoughts. Matthews, his partner, slammed Tim’s office door open.

“There’s been a shooting!”

Tim furrowed his brows, pushing his thoughts of Shane away for now, and focusing on the task at hand. “Where? Do we know anything else?” He asked, opening the drawer in his desk to put his gun holster on over his shoulders.

“Yeah, it was at a liquor store downtown. We have an idea of who the victim is based on descriptions from the employee working at the time, but not of the shooter,” Matthews answered, handing Tim’s trenchcoat to him. 

The two detectives made their way to Tim’s car and sped off to the crime scene.

“His name is Howard Xavier, and he’s twenty-eight,” Watson, the cop who was in the area, explained. “He’s on his way to the hospital now, but he looks to be in decent condition.”

Tim nodded, eyes looking over the crime scene. Flashes of photos being taken filled the peripheries of his vision. There were bottles of wine and hard liquor crashed everywhere. “Looks like Xavier tried to run from the shooter,” he mumbled, crouching down to look at the dirty boot prints on the linoleum floor.

“Do you think they knew each other?” Matthews asked.

Tim sighed, looking up at his partner before standing again. “Who’s to say?” He shrugged. “Maybe. Do we have any information on any relatives or associates?”

“No family, but we’ve found a couple of friends on file,” Matthews replied. “I think we’ve got them back at the station.”

Tim nodded. “Let’s head back and see what we can find.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. 

Known Associates: Tracy Wynanski and Shane Morrissey.

This had to have been the coincidence to end all coincidences or Tim had an insane amount of luck. There was a phone number for Tracy, but no address. He stepped out of his office and approached his secretary, an older woman by the name of Dolores.

“Can you get me Shane Morrissey’s file, please?” He asked, voice a little more gruff than he’d intended.

“Of course, sweetie, give me one moment,” Dolores smiled, rolling her chair to the file cabinets. 

Shane’s file in hand, he sat back at his desk and started looking through the files for Howard Xavier again. A bullet wound to the thigh, and blunt force trauma to the head.

He figured it’d be easy to get the professional parts out of the way first and called Tracy, asking if she knew anything about the shooting. She said she didn’t, since her and Howard hadn’t seen each other in a couple of months. She’d gone back home to Philadelphia after a breakup. 

“Thank you, Tracy,” he said. “Do you happen to know Shane Morrissey? He’s one of Howard’s other known associates and I’d like to ask if he knows anything.”

Tracy let out a bitter laugh and said, “Oh, I know Shane. He can kiss my ass for all I care.”

“Ms. Wynanski, please–”

“I don’t have a number for him, but I can tell you where he lives. Not saying he’ll be there, though,” she paused. “Likes to frequent this one house full of his ‘friends’ when he’s not at home moping.”

Tim felt his entire body relax, shutting his eyes as he took a deep breath. “That will be very helpful. Thank you, Ms. Wynanski. Do you have the address for the other house?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t go in there like you’re looking for him, though. They’ll all run off.”

“I can handle it. Thank you, Ms Wynanski.”

After confirming that the address Tracy had matched the one they had on file, and wrote down the other address, he called Matthews, who decided to check on Xavier at the hospital.

“He’s stable. He’ll probably stay here for a couple of days,” his partner said through the phone.

“Alright. I’ve got a lead on one of his associates. It’s fucking Morrissey, John,” Tim chuckled.

“You’re shitting me. Employee at the liquor store said Xavier looked like he walked out of the Satanic Temple so I guess I’m not too surprised.”

Tim rolled his eyes and snorted, making one last note on Howard’s file. “I’m gonna head out and look for him. Could you go to one of these addresses for me?”

“Sure thing, Tim. Don’t get trapped in some ritual sacrifice.”

“Fuck off,” Tim laughed.

Tim decided to go to the second house full of Shane’s “friends”. He figured it was more likely that he was there, and he was right. It looked like it was a gathering of about ten or fifteen other kids around Shane’s age, all dressed in similar clothing.

The house was filled with smoke and had music playing, so he decided it was better if he stayed in his car until Shane came outside. He didn’t want to embarrass the kid.

It didn’t take too long, Shane stumbling out of the house and laughing loudly. Tim turned the key, the engine for his Caprice coming to life. Shane startled and looked over, eyes locking with Tim’s behind the wheel.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shane barked, stomping over to the passenger window and glaring at the older man.

“I need your help,” Tim said softly.

Shane rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you fucking stalk me here? You can’t be here– They can’t see me with you.”

“Then get in. They won’t know.” Tim looked up at him, eyes softening when he saw the clear hurt on Shane’s face. He wasn’t very angry by the looks of it. Just upset.

Shane scoffed, looked back at the house, and raised his arms in defeat. “Fine,” he grumbled, opening the passenger side door and sitting down.

“Seatbelt.”

“Eat me, old man,” Shane rolled his eyes. He lifted a leg and rested his chunky boot on the car’s dashboard. 

Tim sighed heavily and didn’t argue. He’ll just clean his car later. “You wanna talk at the station or at my apartment?”

Shane bit his lip, picking at a rip in his jeans and making it worse. “I don’t wanna go to the station.”

“Figured as much,” Tim exhaled, looking behind the car for any oncoming traffic and pulling out of the neighborhood towards his apartment.

Shane stared at Tim’s arms underneath the tight white dress shirt, the fabric pulling at the thick muscle. He wondered what Tim looked like on top of him, those strong arms pinning him to a mattress and–

“You know a Howard Xavier, right?” Tim asked, eyes squinting at the file in his hands. 

The two of them were seated at the table in Tim’s dining room, the surface in front of them covered in documents and files. 

“Yeah, that’s X,” Shane mumbled, picking at his nails so he could hide the pink in his cheeks.

Tim raised a brow but didn’t comment, nodding. “Do you know if he had any enemies, Shane?” He asked, digging his glasses out of his front pocket and putting them on. “That’s better,” he said to himself, the text on the files clearing up.

Shane blinked a couple times, the sight of Tim wearing glasses doing more for him than he thought possible. His breathing picked up a little, heart pounding in his chest when Tim made eye contact with him, waiting for Shane to answer. “U-um, I don’t think so? X was always pretty chill,” he mumbled.

Tim nodded and took notes on a sticky pad. Tim’s phone started ringing, making the older man get up and answer it. “Rockford,” he grunted into the receiver.

Shane stayed seated and kept to himself, listening to the one sided conversation.

“You’re shitting me. He did? Thanks, John. Yeah. You too. Have a good night.”

Tim exhaled and hung up the phone, clicking his pen. “Good news,” he smiled, taking his seat at the table across from Shane. “Xavier woke up and described the shooter. My partner found him.”

Shane nodded, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table. “‘S good,” he mumbled.

Tim watched Shane’s face closely, eyes trailing over the piercings and the messy hair. “I’m sorry I took you away from your party,” he said softly.

“‘S okay. Don’t like those guys very much,” Shane shrugged. Now that he was here, he was having a hard time not curling in on himself again. He couldn’t even look Tim in the eye without thinking about what his lips felt and tasted like.

Tim furrowed his brows. “Why do you hang out with them, then?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t want to pry, but it was sort of his job to find information. Shane wasn’t a job, though. He was much more than that.

Shane sighed and angrily looked at Tim for a second before looking away again. “Why do you care?”

Tim bit his lip, fiddling with his tie. “You really wanna know, kid?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” he rolled his eyes.

“Because I see a lot of myself in you, Shane,” Tim admitted gently, crossing one leg over the other.

Shane furrowed his brows and looked at Tim incredulously.

“It’s true. Would you believe me if I said I got arrested? Was about your age, too.” Tim chuckled as he remembered what caused his arrest.

A small smile grew on Shane’s face. “What’d you do?”

“Public Indecency.”

Shane’s eyes grew three times in size. “Did you get caught having sex? Were you streaking?” He giggled, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Uh, well,” Tim chuckled. “I was in my car at the time and having sex.”

Shane laughed, face as red as a tomato. His thoughts flooded with images of what Tim having sex looked like. What sort of faces did he make? What kind of sounds did he make? Was he more dominant or submissive?

“Were you going down on her or…?”

“Him,” Tim answered easily. “And no, we were uh… I was found on top of him.”

Shane froze, eyes wide. He looked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked back at Tim briefly before settling his eyes on Tim’s tie. “You’re…?” He asked shakily. 

“Yeah, kid,” Tim chuckled. Shane looked terrified and it broke Tim’s heart. “I said I was here for you if you needed me. I still am.”

Shane squeezed his eyes shut and let out a heavy, shaky breath. He rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans and looked at Tim with wet, glossy eyes. “I don’t– I don’t understand,” he shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t seem–”

“Not every gay person is really flamboyant, Shane.”

Shane blushed in embarrassment. “Why did you turn away from me, then? Why didn’t you kiss me back?” He frowned, voice shaky and hurt.

Tim’s eyes rounded, his whole face becoming softer. “I wanted to,” he admitted, looking down at Shane’s ring-clad hands. “But it wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t… I didn’t want to take advantage of you like that.”

“Take advantage–! I kissed you!” Shane roared.

“You were vulnerable and confused. And,” Tim gulped. “And I’m a lot older than you, it’s… It’s not appropriate.” He shook his head, closing his eyes briefly at how much it hurt to say out loud.

“Tim,” Shane whimpered, biting his lip. He felt a thick lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation right now. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. It felt like he was having an out of body experience. “I don’t care about that, I’m– I’m more worried about you being a cop than being older than me. I’m an adult,” he scoffed, his bottom lip trembling.

Tim couldn’t hold in the chuckle that bubbled out of him. “I know you are. I just don’t– I don’t know how this could continue–”

“Please, shut up,” Shane begged, getting out of his chair and making his way over to Tim. He looked down at the older man, face burning, and slowly crawled into Tim’s lap, wrapping his arms around Tim’s neck. “I don’t wanna talk anymore,” he whispered. “I don’t wanna think anymore. Please.”

Tim’s hands instinctively found their place on Shane’s hips. His eyes moved from Shane’s to the younger man’s lips, then back up. “Are you sure?” He asked softly, rubbing his thumbs into Shane’s hip bones.

“No,” Shane mumbled. “Well, yes, but… No.”

Tim raised a brow and smirked. “How about we take things slow.”

Shane nodded, biting his lip. “Okay.”

Tim smiled and softly connected their lips, caressing Shane’s head, thumb rubbing at his jaw. Shane whimpered quietly as he tentatively kissed back. His lips trembled against Tim’s, soft huffs of air expelling out from between them. He’d kissed before but this was so… different. The feeling of Tim’s facial hair against his lips was weird. Good, but weird. 

Shane experimentally ran his tongue along Tim’s bottom lip. Tim took the hint and softly caressed Shane’s tongue with his own, making the younger man gasp into his mouth. Tim squeezed Shane’s narrow hips, trying to ground him, and sighed into the kiss. It built a little over time, but eventually, they found a rhythm. The soft clinking of metal from Shane’s earrings filled the otherwise silent apartment. They learned each other over the course of their kissing. Tim learned that Shane liked to nibble and bite, and Shane learned that Tim liked to encompass him entirely, like he could devour Shane’s mouth if given the chance.

When Tim pulled away for some much needed air, Shane whined in protest, his face leaning toward Tim’s to keep going. “Slow your roll, kid,” Tim chuckled, pressing his forehead to Shane’s and panting quietly. Shane blushed, and chewed his swollen bottom lip while he waited. “C’mere,” Tim grunted, tugging Shane’s leather duster off his shoulders. Shane went along with it, pulling his arms free before the sound of squeaky leather fell into a heap on the floor. 

Large hands ran over Shane’s hips and waist, but never ventured lower. Shane shivered when Tim’s blunt nails lightly scratched at the exposed skin of his lower back as his t-shirt rode up. Shane’s cock twitched in interest, making him blush high on his cheeks.

“‘s okay, sweetheart,” Tim hummed. He rolled his hips a little, his own half-hard cock rubbing against Shane’s.

Shane’s eyes grew twice their size at the feeling and looked down at the bulge in Tim’s slacks. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away. His imagination was a lot easier to handle than the real thing pressing into his inner thigh. 

Tim furrowed his brows in concern and rubbed Shane’s skin underneath his t-shirt comfortingly. “What are you thinking about?” He asked softly.

Shane inhaled heavily, and slowly let out a deep breath before turning his head back toward Tim. He opened his eyes, but didn’t make contact. “Just… weird. Feeling your…”

Tim hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you want to stop?”

Shane shook his head, eyes still burning holes into Tim’s slowly rising and falling tummy. 

“Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“N-no, I don’t want to stop,” Shane whispered.

“Do you want to lie down? There’s no expectation for anything,” Tim said, sitting up a little more in the dining room chair. 

The stretch in Shane’s thighs suddenly overtook any doubts he had, making him shakily get up from Tim’s lap. He was used to having someone sit on his lap like that and being in that position made his stomach hurt.

Tim laced his fingers through Shane’s and gently guided him to his bedroom. He kept the lights low and rubbed his thumb over Shane’s knuckles. “You okay?”

Shane stared at Tim’s bed and swallowed a lump in his throat. “Y-yeah,” he croaked.

Tim chewed on his lip in thought and let go of Shane’s smaller hand. He gave Shane some space as he took off his glasses and removed the tie he was wearing. He toed off his dress shoes and put them in his closet. When he turned around after unbuttoning his dress shirt, Shane was sitting on his bed, hands curled up into fists on his ripped jean-covered thighs.

Tim sighed softly and sat next to him on the bed. “What’s goin’ through that pretty head of yours?” He asked, tugging on pieces of Shane’s hair that were sticking straight out.

Shane shut his eyes and took another deep breath. “I’m just… I’m having a hard time being… like, the female part.” He curled in on himself, his shoulders hiding his ears.

Tim blinked a couple times. “Sweetheart, we’re both men.”

“I-I know that! I just,” he swallowed a lump in his throat. “Usually, I’m in your position. Taking charge.”

“I see,” Tim sighed, getting more comfortable and turning toward him. Shane did the same, but didn’t make eye contact with him. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Shane blushed, those big brown eyes of his lifting up to meet Tim’s. 

“Alright, firstly, who told you there were ‘male’ and ‘female’ roles?” Tim raised a brow.

“W-well, uh–”

“It’s alright, I already know who. Lesson number one,” Tim smiled reassuringly. “Just because you’re sitting on my lap, letting me ‘take charge’, doesn’t mean you’re weak, honey.”

Shane gulped and nodded, taking all of this in. Tim felt like a professor. Probably the first one Shane would ever listen to.

“And women aren’t weak, so get that out of your head, too.”

Shane let out a heavy breath. This was a lot to take in.

“Did you feel good?” Tim asked, picking up one of Shane’s hands and rubbing his thumb over the scabbed knuckles. When Shane nodded jerkily, Tim grinned, his chest feeling warm at the admission. “That’s all that matters. Think of it this way,” he paused. Shane hung onto every word. “Everything we do? It’s with your say-so. You’re driving the car here.”

Shane blinked as he thought about it. He could work with that. “Oh,” he said quietly.

“You want me to make you feel good again?” Tim smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. Shane’s heart thundered at the sight.

“Y-yes.”

“Go ahead and lay back for me, alright?”

Shane nodded and got comfy, head cradled by Tim’s fluffy pillows. His entire body was buzzing and tense. He kept his eyes on Tim’s popcorn ceiling, the sounds of Tim’s belt jingling filling the room. When the bed dipped with Tim’s weight, Shane’s heart stuttered a little. One of Tim’s big hands cupped his cheek and gently turned his face so he could look at Tim again. Shane wasn’t expecting the softness in Tim’s features, or the heat in his eyes.

Tim rubbed Shane’s cheek with his thumb. “We don’t have to go far tonight. There’s no rush.”

Shane nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

This time, when their lips connected, Shane eased into it a lot sooner, kissing the older man with renewed fervor. He sighed into it, the warmth radiating off of Tim being an endless source of comfort. He gripped onto Tim’s opened dress shirt and tugged it down his shoulders. Tim released Shane’s lips briefly while he shrugged the shirt off and tossed it on the floor. Shane moaned weakly when Tim surged forward and sucked his bottom lip between his own.

Shane’s head was fuzzy, all the blood there rushing down between his legs. He gasped when Tim rolled him over and hovered over him, pressing his hips between Shane’s thighs. Tim took his time with him, kissing him languidly while he unbuckled Shane’s jeans.

“Can I touch you?” Tim breathed between kisses.

Shane nodded quickly, holding the sides of Tim’s head and tangling his fingers in the short, thick locks of Tim’s hair. Tim smiled against the younger man’s lips and pulled Shane’s baggy, ripped jeans off. Shane toed off his own socks before wrapping his legs around Tim’s thick waist. Tim was so much larger than Shane was and it made his head spin.

Tim’s hands played with the bottom of Shane’s t-shirt and slowly lifted it up, bunching under his armpits. He pulled away to look at Shane’s torso and grinned when he saw the small tattoos there. Both hands holding Shane’s sides, he gently rubbed at the younger man’s nipples, making Shane gasp. Goosebumps and flushed skin covered his entire body in seconds, making Shane lightly smack Tim’s shoulder. Tim laughed lightly and softly kissed his way down Shane’s torso until he was eye level with the tent in the younger man’s boxers.

Shane blushed hard, eyes wide. “W-what are you doing?”

Tim raised a brow and tilted his head slightly, tugging on the elastic of Shane’s boxers. “Said I’d make you feel good, sweetheart.”

Shane blinked. “B-but isn’t that…”

“There are no roles. But if you don’t want me to, then–”

“I do!” Shane smacked his hand over his own mouth and shut his eyes, hoping the bed would swallow him whole. 

A wolfish smirk crossed Tim’s features as he lowered his head, kissing along Shane’s pelvis. Shane whimpered at the feeling of Tim’s facial hair across his skin, his body shuddering. “Breathe, sweetheart,” Tim whispered, shutting his eyes to suck gently at Shane’s hip and leaving a mark. 

Shane forced himself to take a deep breath, shutting his eyes to center himself. When he opened his eyes, Tim quirked a brow up at him as he tugged on Shane’s boxers again. Shane nodded his consent and almost groaned at the cool air in the apartment hitting his throbbing cock. Tim hummed appreciatively and didn’t waste a second, kissing the tip, then making his way down the shaft.

Shane moaned openly gripping the sheets of the bed into tight fists. “T-Tim, what–”

“Shh…” Tim whispered, engulfing the head of Shane’s cock in his mouth. He moaned at the taste and watched Shane’s face as he slowly bobbed his head up and down. Shane’s eyes rolled back and arched his back off the bed. 

Shane felt his cheeks throb and the blood rushing in his ears, doing everything in his power to keep his hips down. When his hips bucked up on their own, he moaned weakly, looking at Tim’s face to make sure he didn’t choke him. What he found instead made his cock twitch.

This was one of Tim’s favorite things to do. Making his partner feel good with his mouth was something he always got pleasure out of and Shane was no different. In fact, this was probably one of the more rewarding times, because this was the first time a man had done this for him. He felt good knowing he got to be the first, and a little possessive side of him liked the idea even more.

Eyes shut, Tim moaned around Shane’s length, losing himself in it. He gripped Shane’s hips and rubbed the bones there to soothe him. Shane’s chest rose and fell quickly as he watched. He felt a little embarrassed to admit that this was probably the best head he’d ever received.

Tim opened his eyes, keeping an eye on any changes in Shane’s face. 

Shane felt his balls drawing up, making him moan weakly. “I-I’m gonna–” He cut himself off, gripping the sheets tighter. Tim doubled his efforts, bobbing his head a little faster. “Oh, fuck,” Shane whined, his thighs trembling on either side of Tim’s head.

Tim moved his hands up Shane’s torso and rubbed at the younger man’s nipples again, urging him on.

“W-wait, wait–” Shane gasped, smacking his hand against Tim’s shoulder as the pressure built and built. Tim watched closely and if he could, he’d grin to himself as he watched Shane’s eyes roll back. Shane’s entire body stilled and he came hard, thick ropes of cum shooting down Tim’s throat. Shane’s moans went up three octaves as he shook with pleasure, his toes curling.

Tim swallowed everything and slowly, gently, raised his head. He licked Shane clean, kissing back up his torso. Once he was hovering over Shane again, Tim smiled at the blissed out expression on his face. He chuckled lightly and kissed Shane’s cheek.

“Still with me?”

Shane shivered at the gravelly tone of Tim’s voice. It must be an octave or two lower than normal given what he’d just done. He slowly blinked his eyes open and didn’t have the energy to hold back the smile when he saw Tim’s handsome face. “Yeah, ‘m here,” he mumbled, his body feeling heavy and sated.

“Good. You should get some rest, sweetheart.” Tim’s laugh rumbled in his chest.

Shane pouted, big brown eyes glazed over, but determined. “What about you?”

“I’ll be okay. Get some rest,” Tim said, kissing Shane’s forehead. “Can I take your shirt off?” He asked, pulling the material down from where it was bunched up under his armpits.

Shane nodded, watching in awe as Tim took care of him. It was at this moment that Shane realized Tim was completely serious with him. He wouldn’t make fun of him, or use him. Shane felt tears prickling behind his eyes, but quickly blinked them away.

“Be right back, okay? Gonna get you some water,” Tim grunted quietly, crawling off the bed. Shane didn’t have the energy to argue, and just watched Tim’s broad back leave the bedroom.

When Tim returned with the glass of water, he was greeted with the sight of Shane’s sleeping form. He smiled at him, and set the water on the nightstand closest to Shane. 

He got himself undressed, making sure to be careful of his own half-hard cock. Once he was down to his boxer briefs, he crawled into bed behind Shane and held the younger man close. The day caught up with him as he laid there, eyes trailing over the messy curls and multiple piercings in Shane’s ears.

He drifted off quickly, and had a dreamless sleep.

Twitch. Twitch.

Shane groaned in his sleep.

What was that?

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking as he adjusted to the light. He tried to turn and feel what was poking against his back, but he was held firmly in place by… Were those arms?

Shane’s eyes snapped open as the memories from the night before came flooding back. His cheeks burned as he looked down and saw the strong, very male, hands holding him close to a broad chest. Tim huffed in his sleep, making Shane smile shyly. He couldn’t deny it, being held by Tim felt really good. It was so warm.

He tried rotating in Tim’s arms, silently exhaling in relief when he didn’t seem to wake the older man. He felt the twitching again and looked down between their bodies.

Oh.

Shane smiled at the sight of Tim’s morning wood through his boxer briefs. He looked back up at Tim’s sleeping face and decided against doing anything until he’d woken up. For now, he ran his fingers through the thin layer of chest hair on Tim’s skin. It seemed obvious when he thought about it, but it was so different than when he was with a woman. He didn’t feel like he had to hide with Tim. Tim wouldn’t judge him.

Tim made him feel safe. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

Shane startled and looked up, Tim’s soft smirk and sleepy eyes greeting him. He shook his head in lieu of an answer.

When Tim grumbled in response, it reminded Shane of a bear. 

“Do you want… You need help with that?” Shane asked timidly, pointing between their bodies. Their legs were tangled together and they were touching everywhere. The proximity and the feeling of warmth radiating from between Tim’s legs had Shane throbbing in no time.

Tim snorted and leaned forward, kissing Shane sleepily. Shane moaned into it, grinding his own cock against Tim’s. Tim pulled back and panted a little against Shane’s lips.

“We don’t have to. I’ll be okay–”

Shane cut him off by gripping Tim’s ass and squeezing. When Tim made a small noise of surprise, Shane smirked, attempting to pull Tim onto his own lap. “I want to,” he said, voice determined, but shaky. “I want… I wanna know what it feels like. I have to make sure.”

Tim blinked at him, a little shocked by the sudden change in Shane’s behavior. One of his legs was draped over Shane’s waist as he cupped the younger man’s face. Shane seemed to melt at the gesture, making Tim smirk. “Are you sure?” He asked, brows pinched in concern. He didn’t want Shane to rush into anything. 

“Yes,” Shane nodded.

There was more conviction in that one word than a lot of things Shane had ever said to him, so Tim smiled softly at him. He held onto Shane’s thighs and rolled them over so he was hovering over Shane again, and rubbed the smooth skin comfortingly. “Alright. Lube and condoms are in the top drawer,” he nodded his head toward the nightstand. 

With pink cheeks and a determined expression on his face, Shane reached over and dug out the necessary equipment. Everything really settled in his gut when he was holding everything. This was really going to happen. This wasn’t some dream he’d come up with while he was alone in his bedroom, looking at the cracks and fist-sized holes in his walls.

“C’mere,” Tim grunted, gently taking the items from him and holding Shane’s hip. “Gotta get you prepared, okay? Don’t want it to hurt for you.”

Shane nodded appreciatively and watched as Tim discarded his own underwear, kneeling on the bed between Shane’s thighs. He looked the older man over, eyes raking over the messy, gray curls and pillow creases on Tim’s cheeks. His eyes traveled down over the broad shoulders and chest, and down to the swell of Tim’s stomach. That was probably one of Shane’s favorite parts. His eyes landed on the thick cock between muscled thighs and Shane bit his lip. He had to remind himself not to pinch his arm, because this was real. 

Tim carefully got the condom secured around his cock and drizzled some lube on his fingers. “You ready?” He smiled down at Shane, chest warm at the sight of him. Shane nodded, smiling shyly up at him.

Tim curled his fingers around Shane’s cock and pumped slowly. Shane sighed and shut his eyes, lips parting. Tim couldn’t help himself and surged forward, kissing the younger man deeply. He kept his hand on him, keeping up a decent pace as he teased a finger against Shane’s hole.

Shane’s body jerked at the intrusion, making Tim soothe him gently. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ll be gentle.”

Shane let out a weak noise and nodded, holding on tight to Tim’s shoulders. He spread his legs a little more and wrapped them around Tim’s waist. 

The first press of one of Tim’s thick fingers inside him already had Shane seeing stars. He panted as he looked down between his legs, trying to see what was happening. Tim cupped his face and forced him to look there instead. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he smiled.

Shane bit his lip and nodded, but gasped soon after as a second finger joined the first. His face twisted into an almost pained expression. Tim watched closely, eyes locked onto him. Tim pumped his fingers in a steady rhythm, searching for that sweet spot inside him. Shane was panting heavily, eyes glossed over, but staying on Tim’s face.

When Shane rolled his eyes back and he gasped, Tim knew he found it. Shane moaned, his cock twitching violently against his lower tummy. “H-hurry up, old man,” he groaned, toes curling on either side of Tim’s hips. “P-please,” he breathed.

Tim snorted, but didn’t argue, removing his fingers gently. Shane groaned at the loss and braced himself for the intrusion, eyes squeezed shut.

“Sweetheart, I need you to breathe first.” Tim leaned over him and kissed him tenderly. He watched as Shane let out one last deep breath and nodded up at him. “Atta boy,” Tim grinned.

Shane scoffed and rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. As Tim lined himself up, Shane’s heart thundered in his chest, watching the focus on Tim’s face mellow out. He had that same facial expression whenever he was interrogating Shane back at the station, or reading through files, or taking notes. But here, with Shane, he seemed to deflate a little. He relaxed. 

The first push in knocked the wind out of Shane. He moaned, digging his nails into Tim’s broad shoulders. Tim hid his face in Shane’s neck and kissed along the younger man’s sleep-soft skin. “Doin’ so good, sweetheart,” he breathed, hips slowly pushing forward.

Shane trembled in Tim’s arms until Tim’s hips were flush against him. Time stopped as Tim settled, letting Shane adjust. Shane had to blink a few times, swallowing around a lump in his throat. All thought left Shane’s head and the only thing left was the sweet stretch of Tim’s cock inside him. Every wall he’d built up was successfully crumbling at his trembling form. 

Tim petted Shane’s sweaty hair out of his face, kissing him on every available patch of skin he could find.

“M-move,” Shane panted, eyes half lidded and glazed over. “Please.”

So Tim did.

He built up a slow, steady rhythm. Before either of them knew it, their bodies rocked together in perfect harmony. Tim hugged Shane closer, his hips being the driving force while his arms kept Shane grounded.

The sounds leaving Shane’s mouth were so unfamiliar to his own ears, he couldn’t even tell where he was for a moment. The only thing he could feel or think about was the stretch of Tim’s cock, Tim’s heavy breathing against his neck, and Tim’s big hands holding his hips. It was all Tim, Tim, Tim.

He didn’t even feel the tear slowly falling down the side of his face until Tim gently wiped it away. He nearly sobbed when Tim kissed him, chest hitching with every powerful thrust. 

Tim grunted every time Shane clenched around him. He was so tight, which he expected, but he was having a hard time keeping a steady rhythm. He was still tired and his body was trying to catch up. He watched the younger man’s face twist in pleasure and sped up a little, moaning down at him.

Shane wailed, one fist curling up tight and weakly hitting against Tim’s chest. “I-I’m close,” he panted, his cock dripping pre-cum onto his stomach. “T-Tim, I’m–”

“‘s okay, I’m here,” Tim groaned, curling his fingers around the younger man’s cock. He started pumping his fist in time with his thrusts, eyes glued to Shane’s face.

Shane nodded furiously, scratching his nails down Tim’s chest. Not long after that, his entire body shook like a leaf and he clenched hard around Tim’s cock, coming in waves. He moaned out loud, his back arching off the bed, and gasping for air.

Tim’s own eyes rolled back as Shane squeezed around him. Shane’s face was turned into the pillow as he breathed heavily, coming down from such a high peak. Tim slowed down some, letting Shane have a moment.

When Shane made eye contact with him again, Tim’s heart stopped. He didn’t think Shane had looked more beautiful than he had right in that moment. His hair was a mess, his face was blotchy and red, there were tear tracks down his cheeks, and his lips were swollen from all the biting. Tim was pulled out of the fantasy when Shane clenched around him again, making a moan bubble out of him.

“C’mon, old man,” Shane smirked, voice tired.

Tim huffed a laugh and hugged Shane close, hips snapping quicker now. Chasing his own release, he hid his face in Shane’s neck, sucking a dark mark against the younger man’s collarbone.

In just a few short, quick thrusts, Tim was following Shane over that ledge with a deep groan, emptying inside the condom.

Shane exhaled deeply, arms wrapped around him. Then, he giggled quietly. He was elated, he was on cloud nine.

Tim lifted his head, hair sticking up every which way. He raised a brow at the younger man and smirked. “You alright?” He chuckled.

Shane nodded, a wide grin on his face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good,” Tim grunted, slowly moving out from between Shane’s legs to dispose of the condom. He crawled back into bed and cuddled close, kissing Shane lazily. They both sighed into it. Eventually, they had to come up for air, and when they did, Tim breathed, “You hungry? I’m hungry.”

“God, yes. I’m fucking starving,” Shane groaned.

Tim laughed and rolled his eyes and pressed a light kiss to Shane’s lips. “You like pancakes? I make some really good pancakes.”

Shane giggled, feeling lighter than he had in years.

[hiddenhearthwitch]

📚 Small Intro To Polytheism📚

One of the most frequent asks I receive is how and where to get started when it comes to polytheism. This is a fairly broad subject and I’ll try to be as general as I can for advice but I will include specific references for Norse polytheists as that’s my shit. This information can be used to help you find a pantheon or to help you pick deities to work with it. If you’d like to use it to pick a patron deity that’s super, if you want to worship 20 gods and not have a patron deity that’s cool too. You do you dude. Please keep in mind this is all reflective of my research and personal practice. 🌻

Picking A Pantheon/Deity

This really boils down to personal preference. You’ll read a lot of posts and books that tell you many different ways and it’s entirely up to you because it is your practice.  That being said, there’s a couple of different ways to go about it. 

Research! This is one of my favorite ways to delve in. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with reading the stories of multiple pantheons and picking on that calls to you. You can also talk to other devotees and see what they have to say about deities and their religions. It is important to keep in mind that some religions are closed so please do proper research!

For example, I wasn’t originally a Norse pagan. I read some stories and thought the Hellenic pantheon would best suit me. I reached out to Eros for a while but after feeling no real connection to the pantheon I continued my research! After reading up on the Norse pantheon I decided to reach out to them out. Obviously, I fucking loved it because here I am. Point being, you can pick a pantheon based on research and not some divine message or whatever. You are also more than welcome to try out a religion, decide it doesn’t suit you, and move on. 

Divination! You can use runes, a pendulum, tarot, etc.This can go a few different ways. You can write pantheon/deity names on separate pieces of paper, mix them up, and place them face down then ask the pendulum to pick. You can assign a deity/pantheon to each suit of cards or major arcana card or even do the same thing with runes. 

For example, this is how I found a devotion to Frigg and Hel. I asked if there were any deities who were interested in working with me and pulled the runes Hagalaz and Berkana which read as Hel and Frigg to me. I followed up with tarot cards and pulled Death(Hel) plus the Queen of Pentacles(Frigg).

Asking/waiting for a sign. This isn’t something I’ve personally done so I don’t have much to say on the subject. You can go about meditating, praying, doing a ritual, or whatever and essentially wait for a sign after. It can come via a dream, something you experience, symbols you see in your daily life, it’s pretty much up to your intuition to decipher it. If anyone has information they’d like me to add in here please let me know!

If there’s a god you’re curious about and don’t want to do any of the above it’s totally cool to just reach out and ask if they want to work with you. 

Idk How To Research

Same, tbh my keyword search game is weak. Anyways, good portion of us are looking up dead religions with little reliable resources. To give those curious about the Norse an easy head start here’s a compiled list of  books by yours truly(click me!!) . It’s important to take everything with a grain a salt of salt when doing research. In my experience a lot of the retold Norse sagas have been Christianized or written under heavy Wiccan influences. It’s a good idea to do research on the author before reading one of their books.

Other blogs! There are tons of great witches and pagans on tumblr that have information waiting for you. 💗 You can search their blog/tags for good references for books, websites, podcasts, etc. Plus lots of blogs are open to answer asks. If you don’t know where to start for searching it’s best to try things based around your interest like: “norse polytheist”, “hellenic witch”, “gaelic polytheism”, etc.

Media! How lucky are we that we live in the age of technology? Knowledge is right at our fingertips! There are countless documentaries, podcasts, and audiobooks on youtube full of information for different cultures and religions. I’d personally recommend almost anything by BBC, Myths & Legends, and World Mythology!

Books! I love starting on goodreads to find good books and trust worthy authors. They’ve had almost every book I looked up with bunches of different reviews so you can get varying perspectives. Check out your local library as well! A lot of city libraries have online databases now of all of their books so you can “check it out” online and read the PDF(personal fave). 

Feeling Lost Still?

That’s completely reasonable and your feelings are more than valid. It can be overwhelming and lot of information to soak up. Just do your best and take it at your own pace, there’s no rush to find a deity or pantheon. 💞 Below are a few other general concerns I hear a lot that I was hoping to address.

“I’m leaving a monotheistic(Christian, Catholic, Jewish, etc) religion and it’s giving me anxiety.” This is entirely common and almost expected in my opinion. I was raised Roman Catholic and my first year to two looking into polytheism riddled me with anxiety. I was constantly concerned that god would smite me down or I’d face an eternity in hell for worshiping false gods. While I can’t speak for everyone that fear was entirely erased for me when I found my gods. I’ve never felt so safe and strong and hopefully with time you can find the same in your gods!

It’s okay to want to learn more or to seek something more. I can’t tell you how to handle your anxiety but please know you’re not alone in that fear. There’s whole communities out there willing to support you and help you find your safe space(including me)!

“What’s UPG?” You’ll see a lot of posts, mine included, that mention UPG - UPG is Unverified Personal Gnosis. This is essentially someone’s personal thoughts and beliefs about a deity. For example, I associate Sif with hazelnuts. There’s nothing in the lore or any book that says that she likes hazelnuts; that’s just a personal opinion(aka a UPG).

“How do I reach out to the gods?” I have a lot of information on my blog about this topic although a lot of it is Norse specific. You can check out my beginner polytheist tag here and my beginner norse post/ask here.

Altar! This is my go to typically. Altars aren’t limited to the cookie cutter image that comes to mind(no hate though I have a few); one thing you can make a side blog dedicated to your pantheon/deity, make a small one in a tin can, or even make one in a video game like Minecraft or some shit. You can be as creative or as to the book as you want. It’s up to you.

Prayer! You can totally just sit down and be like, “Hey man wanna work on some shit together?”. While I’m not 100% that all gods would be down with you being that casual it’s still something you can try.😂 You can reach out to them by sitting down in a quiet space and meditating into prayer, praying in the car or in the shower, or just pray at the altar you set up if you did. Again, I can not reiterate this enough, it’s your practice, reach out to them as you please.

Do something personal! This is more like devotional work in my opinion. Let’s say you knit and you want to reach out to a creative or domestic deity, you can knit something as a devotional act to them and as a way to reach out. For example I pick up litter in honor of the Vanir and Jörð, or I play Skyrim for Thor and Týr.

Most importantly just be honest and up front with the god that you’re reaching out too. Considering that statement be honest with yourself as well. There’s no point going into a relationship with a god if you can’t be upfront, it’ll end up in nothing but grief.

“Can deities reach out through gods/signs?” They totally can. However, it is up to you and your intuition if a deity has and it’s not likely another witch will decipher that for you. Sounds, experiences, images, all have different meanings to each of us - they may show you something that’s very personal to you but would be mundane to someone else. Trust your instincts. However, please remember that not everything is magical, sometimes a raven is just a raven and not Odin.

✨Take everything you learn with a grain of salt. Including this post.✨

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[victoria-writes]

I will never forget you.

Pairing: Legolas x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Legolas proposes to you and reassures you that he wants to be with you. Fluff & Angst with a happy ending + bonus ending

Word Count: 1605

Notes:

Reader is human

No gender or pronouns used to refer to the reader. Reader is briefly mentioned to have short hair

MENTIONS OF DEATH (reader's). Don't read if you're not ok with thinking about your own mortality xoxo

Read it on AO3 here

Story:

It has been months since you moved to Mirkwood with the prince following the disbandment of the fellowship and destruction of the one ring. Sometimes your mind would drift to what could’ve happened had the ring fallen into the wrong hands or if any other evil lies dormant, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. You could never sit with these thoughts for long, though. Legolas seemed to have a sixth sense for when you needed to see the good in the world again. Today was one of those days. 

“Come, there is something I wish to show you”, the elf smiled as he stretched his hand out, waiting for you to take it from your place sitting in a wooden chair inside the royal palace. 

“It better not be another elk giving birth in the woods. I’m still traumatized from your idea of ‘the beauty of nature’”, you grimace at the memory still not extending your hand.

“No, no, nothing like that. I promise”, he chuckles softly.

“Fine”.

Legolas had brought you to a clearing in the forest, surrounded by old-growth trees and wildflowers. White queen anne’s lace, forget-me-nots, and flowers whose names you did not know, who only seemed to grow near where elves trot, filled your eyes. This is not the first time he’s found a quiet spot in nature to take you, and it will surely not be the last. While overlooking the rainbow of colors seemingly dancing in the field in front of you, you sneak a glance at the elf from the corner of your eye. He stands confidently with his hands behind his back next to you and smiles. If it were anyone else looking at him, they’d think he was completely at ease. Anyone but you. The look in his eyes said “Do you like it? Do you? Please tell me you like it.”. He always wanted to impress you, whether it be shooting three arrows at once when one would suffice, wearing his nicest clothes (“Legolas why are you wearing your ceremonial attire?” “Don’t worry about it, father”.), or finding the best places to take you. Be still, your beating heart. For a nearly 3,000 year old elf, he acted like a lovesick teenager. 

“It’s absolutely beautiful”, you finally say after a long silence. Legolas releases tension in his shoulders he didn’t even realize he was holding. 

“I knew you would. Let us sit in the grass.”, he guided you so that he was sitting with your back against his chest, his legs on either side. 

You felt your tongue form teasing words about him taking you on a hike to a remote spot just for a cuddle, but they faded away as he wrapped his arms around your sides and began to plant soft, slow kisses on your neck and shoulder. You melted into his warm touch. 

“May I braid your hair?”

“Yes, but there’s not much to braid.”, you reply. You had recently gotten a haircut and felt as though Legolas may be disappointed. He was very enthusiastic about your new look the first time he saw it, but now you fear he may not enjoy it. 

“Nonsense, I shall make many small plaits instead”.

“Alright”, you relaxed into his hands as he began to weave strands of hair behind you. You closed your eyes, as you reveled in the feeling of the sunlight on your face as he worked. All was quiet aside from the occasional bird chirping or squirrel running up a tree. A warm feeling took hold in your chest and you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. You were safe. You were happy. You were in love. 

Millenia seemed to pass before Legolas announced he was done. True to his word, he had formed many braids in your hair. He may have gone a little overboard with just how many he made, but he just loved the feeling of being so close to you and never wanted it to end. 

“Thank you”, you whisper as your turn to face him, giving him a peck on the lips. You move your hand to feel the back of your head, itching to feel the braids your lover gifted you. Soft. Your fingers feel something soft. Something thin and soft. 

“Forget-me-not flowers”, Legolas clarified, seeing you trying to decipher with your fingers, “I thought them appropriate”.

“Why is that?” “They are gifted to one whose presence you enjoy, so as not to forget them, as the name implies. I could never forget you and I hope you would not forget me. Each past day with you is a beloved memory and each day to come cannot come soon enough. I treasure each moment with you. I feel myself drowning in my affection for you. No, peacefully swimming. I adore you. I cannot bear to be without you.”, he says softly as he holds both your hands and kisses each one, never breaking eye contact.

“Oh, Legolas”

“Meleth nîn”, he uses his hands to guide you both to your feet. As you look up into his bright blue eyes, he whispers “Please allow me to never be without you. Allow me to walk beside you for all the days we may share together before death takes us. I have lived millennia without you. Now that I know what life is like with you in it, I never want to go back. I want you with me, always.”

“Are you asking me-?”, you begin as he kneels down in front of you and pulls out a ring from his pocket.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”, he gazes at you with hope in his eyes as he lifts the ring towards you. 

“Yes. Yes. Yes!”, he quickly puts the ring on your left ring finger and you pull him into a harsh kiss. You and the elf wear matching smiles as you kiss long and hard. 

“I’m so happy, Legolas…but is this what you really want?”, your smile drops as your nerves hit you. “Of course, my love. Why do you question my intentions?”.

“It’s not your intentions that I question. It’s just that you’re…you”, you vaguely gesture at the elf.

“I’m not following.”

“You’re a prince. I’m poor. You’re an elf that’ll live thousands of years. I’m a human that’ll be lucky if I make it to 70.” “I don’t care about that.”

“Your father won’t approve.” “I care not what my father thinks. His opinion of our union will not sway me.” 

“Then what of my mortality? One day I will die and leave you alone.”

He sighs before he speaks, “I must admit I have thought long and hard on this subject. The thought of your death pains me to no end.” “Exactly. Our marriage would be short-lived in your long lifetime and I will become nothing but a memory to you, one that will fade one day.”

“What are you saying?” “I’m saying you love me now, but one day I will die and you’ll move on and I’ll mean nothing to you. One day you’ll laugh at how you ever loved a silly human”, tears began to well in your eyes, shame overtaking you as you finally let out the fears you’ve been harboring all this time. Your gaze drifts downwards, unable to face your elven lover. Legolas’ eyes widened in realization, shocked at your true feelings. He manages to compose himself and lifts your chin up with his index finger. 

“Meleth nîn, look at me. Y/N, please.”, he whispers his request. 

“It is true that my life will continue when yours ends.”

Hot tears began to run down your cheeks at this. 

“But”, he swipes the tears away with his thumb, “You will always be a part of it. Even when you are gone, I will love you. You have shown me love that I did not think was possible. When you are gone, I will visit your grave with flowers each day. I will braid my hair and miss the touch of yours. I will never remarry. I will walk the paths we have taken together. I will meditate in this very spot, remembering this moment. I will never forget you. In life and in death, we are connected. I love you”.

“And I love you”, you barely choke the words out through your tears. 

“Knowing all this, my silly human,”he teases before turning serious, “Will you marry me?” “Of course, I’ll marry you, you ridiculous elf”.

You both grin as Legolas lifts you up and spins you in his arms. When your feet are planted on the Earth again he kisses you deeply. As you feel your lips on your own, you imagine a thousand more kisses each day with him for the rest of your days. 

Bonus

Many moons have passed since your passing. Legolas meant every word of his promise and has done all that he said. Before he rests each night, he reads the book on his nightstand, your favorite book of poems. He recalls reading it to you on nights your eyes were too tired as he pet your hair while you laid on his chest. When he wakes each morning, he glares at the large empty space beside it, wishing it were you. Although his heart pangs at the loss of you, he finds joy and comfort in revisiting your old haunts, his favorite being the spot where he proposed to you. Today, our elf wanders into the cemetery. “Hello, meleth nîn”, he smiles as he places a bouquet of freshly picked forget-me-nots on your grave.

[floral-and-fine]

Red Heart

Michael Langdon x fem reader

summary: At the end of the world, the Reader finds herself in Outpost 3 with nothing more than a name. With no memories of her life before, stuck living underground with strangers, and only ally seemingly being the militant Ms Mead, she's surprised by the instant connection she has with the member of the Cooperative that arrives one day without any prior warning. It's not long before her past and ties to him are revealed.

warnings: some of the usual dark content like murder and killing, I guess. Surprisingly no smut, just fluff and romance.

a/n: This is my longest fic ever so far! I combined a new idea with an old idea. There are 2 different endings, which is another first for me. With both endings, the story is roughly 28,500 words. I’m thinking about writing a smutty one shot for Michael soon. Thank you @ewokiee and @steeevienicks for the help.

“So,” Evie started, arching her brow. “You really have no memory of your life before?” She pressed, her eyes looking you over as she sized you up.

The two of you were sitting on one of black leather couches during cocktail hour. 

“Afraid not,” you muttered with a slight shrug. 

“Hm,” she looked away, taking a sip of her drink. “Must make adjusting to all this,” she gestured to the room and the other people present while sloshing her glass of mineral water around. “Easier… Nothing from your past to miss, no previous life to long for.”

“That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.”

It was true, you couldn’t remember anything from your past. You didn’t even have any recollection of arriving at The Outpost. Two weeks ago, you had woken up in your room here, unable to recall anything except for your name. Ms. Mead was the first person you met, she had given you a quick rundown of where you were, what had happened, and the rules of Outpost 3 while she helped you change into a formal violet dress. 

But Evie had a point, as the days passed the others became more strung out and restless, Coco’s hair changed daily, Gallant’s mood swings were more extreme, and they all complained from morning to night. 

But, when they would speak of the world before the end, you had to admit you were a little envious. They’d talk about foods you’d never likely taste, weather you’d never feel, places you’d never see… having no memories was a blessing and a curse. 

However, your curiosity was stronger than your envy, which is why you often found yourself sitting next to Evie, so you could listen to her stories. She was always happy to speak about herself and her past exploits. 

Suddenly, two strangers entered the music room. You straightened out the skirt of your dress, your fingers running across the purple silk as you sat up straight. It didn’t go unnoticed that the two strangers were both dressed in purple as well. 

You had quickly learned its significance in this new world. Purple meant you were part of the elite and that was your only clue to who you were before. You wondered if you had been an heiress like Coco or an actress like Dinah. But you had your doubts. Even Evie often commented that you were far too kind, too humble to have been anyone with any real clout or power. Which left you wondering why you were here, really, if you paid your way like the rest. 

Eager to speak to new people, everyone stood up to greet the new meat. Gallant was quick to approach them and ask them questions about what the world above was like. 

“It’s all gone,” the boy stated solemnly. 

“Everything,” the girl added. 

Ms. Venable soon joined the group, announcing it was time for dinner. Everyone followed her out to the dining room. 

You took your usual seat and quietly waited to be served by the grays. You remained seated as Coco threw her fit over having to eat another cube. You jumped slightly when Ms. Venable struck Coco’s face. You hadn’t seen her lose her composure like that and it frightened you. 

When Ms. Mead had shared with Ms. Venable that had no memory of who you were, she had questioned you repeatedly. You could see it in her eyes that she didn’t think you belonged. Ms. Venable believed you were unworthy of being a purple and hadn’t earned your spot here at this sanctuary. You were sure she was looking for a way to dispose of you. 

Your eyes remained downcasted as Ms. Venable addressed the group. She shared that three of the outposts had already been overrun, there was only enough food for 18 months, and that the world above was beyond repair.

The Fist and a few other members of The Cooperative entered the dining room, The Fist whispered something to Ms. Mead. 

“There’s a problem,” Ms. Mead shared. “We've detected a spike in the background radiation, centered in this room.”

Immediately Gallant pointed a finger at the newcomers who insisted they were clean.

“Place your hands on the table,” Ms. Mead directed, calmly. “And don’t move.”

Ms. Mead gave you a small reassuring smile as she came around with the Geiger Counter. Despite how the rest of the group felt about Ms. Mead, you found her presence comforting like you were safe with her around. 

You watched wide eyed as Gallant and Stu were dragged away from the table. Moments later Ms. Venable dismissed you and the rest of the group. 

You retired to your room and immediately started the shower to let the water heat up. Ms. Mead’s words about radiation and its effects were still swirling around your head. Stripping out of the dress, you left it on the floor as you bathed, washing every inch of your body. 

The next day, you and the rest of the group learned Stu’s fate. Andre was inconsolable, sobbing as he mourned over the death of his lover. 

At dinner everyone was surprised when instead of bland tasteless cubes, soup was served. Ms. Venable referred to it as bonne bouche.

You pushed the meat around with your spoon, you had to admit it smelled appetizing. Everyone else delved in, rejoicing over the flavor and taste. A few questioned the source of the meat and  where the meat came from, but Ms. Mead insisted that it was chicken. Yet no one seemed truly convinced. 

You were about to take a bite when Andre found a bone in his bowl. He quickly pushed his bowl aside, identifying the bone as a finger, immediately claiming that Stu had been served. 

Most of the others reacted with disgust, silverware clattering on the table as they began retching and spitting the stew out. Andre leapt from his seat, swept up in an emotional outburst. 

Ms. Venable attempted to reassure the group, stressing that there were some lines that should never be crossed. 

Evie was the only purple unphased and continued to eat. 

You calmly placed your spoon back down on your napkin, watching as the rest of the purples filed out of the dining room. 

As you joined them in the music room, they were still talking about the strange supper, arguing over whether it had been Stu or not. Andre was still distraught as his mother tried to comfort him. 

The arguing came to a halt as Emily shushed everyone when the music suddenly stopped. Gallant rushed to the radio as the song had changed. For two full weeks nonstop Karen Carpenter's voice had droned on and on, but now a new voice rang out. 

‘There's got to be a morning after

If we can hold on through the night’

Gallant mistook it as a sign of hope, a message sent directly from The Cooperative that there was hope for the future, but 18 grueling months had passed since then.  

Evie had run out of stories to tell. Andre’s tears had dried. Dinah’s advice had become stale and repetitive. 

The days had all blurred together, then the weeks, then the months. Everyday was just like the last. You were desperate for something to change. 

You often wondered, late in the night, if perhaps you had already died and this was purgatory or even hell, and that you were here to atone for the sins of life you couldn’t remember. 

Ms. Venable tapped her cane.”This will be our last breakfast,” she announced. “We’re cutting back to one meal a day.”

You could feel the dismay and uneasiness in the room. Coco was first to share her complaints about the new arrangement, followed by Gallant. Both Evie and Dinah tried to be voices of reason, but it seemed to only fuel their frustrations more. Gallant jumped to his feet, and threatened Dinah with his fork. 

Instinctively, you scooted closer to Ms. Mead as tempers rose. She looked towards The Fist, giving her a wordless order. 

“I say we take our chances outside,” Coco’s assistant suggested. 

“She’s right. We have to get out of here,” Gallant agreed. 

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Ms. Mead stated firmly. 

Gallant threw his plate, “What are you going to do? Shoot us all?”

The Fist made her way towards him. 

You gripped your utensils tightly as the scene unfolded before you. You knew the members of The Cooperative wouldn’t hesitate to kill any one of you, the had done away with several people already. 

Suddenly, red lights flashed accompanied with the blare of an alarm rung out, effectively catching everyone’s attention. 

“Perimeter alert. There’s been a breach,” The Fist explained.

Ms. Mead sighed, giving you a curt nod, before following The Fist towards the stairs. 

No one was sure what to expect. Most were thinking that this was it, that the outpost would be overrun like the others. 

You probably should’ve felt worried as well, but frankly you were just glad something unexpected had happened, something to break the monotony. You stared up at the ceiling wondering who or what was up there. 

That night you were restless, tossing and turning, legs tangled in your sheets as you tried to fall into a deep sleep that never came. Instead, your busy mind conjured vivid and unsettling dreams, full of unfamiliar people and experiences that you didn’t remember or you didn’t understand, almost like being in a foreign film. 

Amongst all the nameless faces was a boy with blonde hair and striking blue eyes who appeared over and over again, catching your attention. As you watched him from afar he continuously changed from a child to a man.

You tried to get closer to him, reaching out with your hands trying to grab him, stop him, but each time he slipped away from your fingers with a pained look in his eyes. 

When your eyes snapped open, your poor head was throbbing, pounding against your skull. You curled into a ball sobbing quietly over the pain and the new emptiness in your chest. 

Everytime you closed your eyes you thought about that boy, it was almost as if you could feel his longing, his pain. You wished you could make out his face, but you could only recall pieces, like his fluffy blonde hair and the shade of his steel blue eyes. 

…

He was beautiful.

He was the most beautiful person you had ever seen, not that you much to compare him to considering the only faces you could remember were residents here at the outpost. You knew you were staring as he strode into the music room, but you couldn’t resist. Even if you tried, you were sure that you couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect than the man standing before you. 

Ms.Venable stepped aside as he turned and faced the survivors of Outpost 3. 

“My name is Langdon, and I represent The Cooperative,” the man stated, standing in the center of the room. 

You were so engrossed with his appearance that you were unable to process his words, although you did notice the soothing sound of his honeyed voice, so sweet and rich. He exuded confidence and poise as he spoke of the horrors that had befallen the world and the few remaining survivors. There was a sort of haughtiness as he answered questions that you also admired. 

It was unnerving, feeling attraction for the very first time. It was as if you could easily lose yourself to him, all of yourself, and that alone was very frightening. Surely, before the world crumpled, you must have felt this sort of magnetism towards people before, but you couldn’t imagine it was anything as powerful as this. Was this a crush? Love at first sight? Whatever it was, you weren’t prepared for how strong this pull would be. 

Gallant volunteered to be interviewed first, obviously eager to earn his spot at The Sanctuary. Despite your immediate interest in Michael Langdon, you were not as eager to be alone with him. 

How could you answer any of his questions when you didn’t know a thing about yourself? 

But as the thought crossed your mind, Michael’s eyes met yours, and for a brief moment it seemed as though his sauve and indifferent attitude faltered revealing something vulnerable and delicate beneath. Blue eyes that were cold and hard like ice were now swimming with emotion. 

It only lasted for a second, his cool demeanor returning as he turned away from you. 

“The process should only take me a couple of days,” Michael explained. “So you won’t be kept in suspense forever.”

“For those of you who don’t make the cut, all is not lost. If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking,” he held up a vial containing white pills. “Down one of these. One minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up.”

“I look forward to meeting each and every one of you,” his eyes swept across the room, his eyes locking with yours one more time before he took his leave. 

There was a heaviness in the air as the weight of his words sunk in. There was no survival without admittance to The Sanctuary. Staying here would inevitably lead to death, it was just a question of how, by feral cannibals or suicide. 

As usual, the others erupted into a squabble, arguing over who was worthy and unworthy of going to The Sanctuary. 

You rose to your feet as you felt your headache returning. No one questioned you as you made your way out, towards the comfort of your bedroom.

Your head snapped towards your bedroom door as someone urgently rapped against it. 

“Ms. Venable has requested your presence,” Ms. Mead announced from the other side. “She has a few questions for you.”

“I’ll be right out,” you sighed as your fingers expertly finished buttoning your dress. 

Ms. Mead gave you a half smile as you stepped out of your room. The two of you walked quietly through the halls as she escorted you to Ms. Venable’s office. 

This happened about once a month, and you dreaded it every single time. At first she was reasonably pleasant, but as the months went by, she became more hostile, frustrated that your answers never changed. 

You took a deep breath as you both stopped outside her door. Ms. Mead got the door and held it open for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered to her as you crossed the threshold. 

“Of course,” she nodded, but as she closed the door, she gave Ms. Venable a stern look, who glared back in return. There seemed to be a sudden rift between the two women. 

You looked wistfully at the closed door, wishing that Ms. Mead had stayed. Ms. Venable cleared her throat and motioned to the chair across from her. 

“Ms. Y/n,” she greeted you as you took your seat. 

“Ms. Venable,” you replied, with a polite but forced smile. 

“18 months,” she began, chuckling dryly. “We’ve been here for 18 months and you still claim to have no memories?” She phrased it as a question but didn’t wait for a response. “It’s almost too convenient, isn’t it? The perfect little lie to hide behind.”

“It’s not a lie,” you insisted, locking your eyes with hers hoping to show her you were telling the truth, just like you had all the other times before. 

Ms. Venable wasn’t convinced, of course, that’s why she continued with these monthly interrogations. She had been present for the arrival of all the others, except for you. You seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, standing beside Ms. Mead in a satin gown as she introduced you to the other purples. 

“So,” Ms. Venable continued, barely able to hide her contempt while she feigned sympathy. “No changes? Nothing at all?” 

You looked away, your fingers playing with the lace trim on your skirt. You hadn’t planned on sharing that dream with anyone, but maybe it would get her off your back for a while. 

“I had this… dream recently, I can’t remember all the details, but there was this face, it’s not a clear image, but it lingers in my mind, of a sweet boy with blonde hair. I know… I know whoever he is, that I love him,” you admitted. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to picture him, but no matter how hard you tried it was like trying to see through fog. And there were all these feelings that emerged just at the thought of him, completely overwhelming you, making it hard to articulate any further. 

“I-I need to go,” you sniffled, your vision blurry as you got to your feet and rushed out the office. 

Your headache returned, bringing waves of nausea with it. The world around you was swirling and rocking, the light of the candles and lanterns were blinding. Holding your hand out you steadied yourself with the wall, using it as your anchor and guide as you tried to return to the safety of your room. 

“Ms. Y/n?”

Even with you squeezing your shut, you recognized the voice belonging to Coco’s assistant Mallory. She immediately offered you assistance, helping you sit on the floor. 

“Thank you,” you muttered, resting against the cool concrete wall. 

“Of course,” she said, sitting next to you. 

You bent your knees, pulling them up to your chest. “I keep getting these headaches along with these strange dreams,” you explained. “I think they might have to do with my memories.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” she consoled. “Ever since being here, I’ve felt off too, like I’m not all here or I’m missing parts of myself… I have a feeling there’s a reason for it all.”

The two of you sat there in a comfortable silence. You had never really spent time with Mallory before, the grays were always so busy compared to the purples, but she seemed much nicer than most of the people who’ve gotten to know. 

Mallory accompanied you back to your room, once you felt well enough to walk again. You still had to prepare for your upcoming interview. 

….

The grays pulled the doors open and immediately closed them shut as soon as you stepped into the office. 

Michael was waiting by his desk for you.  An eager smile formed on his lips as he watched you timidly approach him. 

“Let’s begin, shall we?” He said, gesturing to the leather chair across from his desk before he promptly moved to his own seat. 

You swallowed thickly, your hands folded in your lap, you had spent hours agonizing over this interview. You wanted to secure a spot at The Sanctuary just like everyone else, but what could you say to convince him? 

Ms. Venable drilled you every chance she got about who you are or were, she was obviously certain that you didn’t belong with the rest. Even the other purples had made it a habit, regularly pointing out to you that if you had been anyone important than someone here at the outpost should’ve recognized you, but none of them did. You were no one. 

Then, of course, there was the whole other ordeal of you being infatuated with Michael Langdon, you were completely bewitched by his charm and beauty. 

Your stomach was already fluttering uncontrollably simply because you were in the same room with him, alone. Your gaze flickered to him, briefly taking in the sight before you. His body language spoke volumes as sat there like a young king perched upon his throne, radiating elegance and authority. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Michael mused. “ Unlike your…companions, who have all been so loud and obnoxious,” he rolled his eyes. “Constantly pestering me, pleading their cases, and offering deals and bribes thinking I can be swayed by their foolish promises but not you, not even now, why?”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. 

“Could it be that you’ve already decided that you won’t be selected?” he speculated. 

You looked away. “I’m nobody special or significant,” you explained, bunching your skirts in your hands. “I don’t even know why I’m here or how I even arrived at the outpost.”

“Ah, yes,” Michael hummed. “Ms. Venable has informed me that you have no memories of your past.” He gave you a hard look, before leaning forward, his fingers drumming on the desk. “Have you considered that perhaps you’re here because someone special, someone powerful, made these arrangements for you?”

You shook your head, the thought hadn’t crossed your mind at all, but it wasn’t an unreasonable idea. “If that were true then wouldn’t that person be here with me now?”

Michael shrugged, resting his elbows on the armrests as he leaned back and crossed his legs, “Unless they weren’t able to get here in time, perhaps they died on their way to the outpost or worse, survived… but who knows maybe they did make it, maybe they’re here and haven’t told you.”

“Why would someone do that?” Your eyes moved from Michael to the files on his desk, could it really be that one of the others knows who you are. “Do any of your files mention anything about why or how I ended up here?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified,” he replied with a mocking smile, laying his hand on top of the stack, a playful look in his eye as he stared down at the pile. 

Your shoulders slumped, you had hoped that Michael would have some answers for you, but instead he just planted more questions and worries in your head. 

“How do you feel about them, the others?” He asked offhandedly, casually changing the subject, while slightly swiveling his chair side to side.

You perked up at the question. “Oh, Evie has been a friend, someone to talk to, to confide in,” you said with a small shrug. “And Ms. Mead, even though she keeps her distance from us, she’s been a source of comfort for me, someone I can trust.”

Micheal snickered, shaking his head, “You’re the first to say anything remotely kind about the other survivors. The rest were all so quick to share with me the ugly and disgraceful truths they had gathered about one another. It’s… a refreshing change.”

He tilted his head, his gaze lingering on your face as his finger traced down the side of his face to his jaw. Your eyes followed the gesture, mesmerized, it seemed unfair to try to have to concentrate with him right in front of you. Every movement he made, no matter how small or fleeting, was alluring, like he was tempting you. 

“Do you find me attractive?” He asked, his eyes lighting up with delight as he watched you squirm. 

Your eyes widened, twisting your silk skirt with your hands, it was as if he could read your mind. 

“Tell me,”  Michael urged with a smirk, rising from his chair and slowly striding towards you. “What exactly do you like about me?” 

He partially sat on his desk right in front of you, his hands clasped in front as he waited. 

You parted your lips, licking them nervously. “Everything,” you answered in a small voice. 

“Everything?” He repeated, lifting his brow. He leaned closer towards you, his long golden hair falling forward like a curtain, his face inching towards yours. 

You nodded, your eyes locking with his as you craned your neck towards him. 

“I believe you,” he whispered, his breath tickling your face as his nose touched yours. “Too bad we’re out of time.”

You blinked in surprise as the large black doors slid open. 

Michael straightened out his posture, before turning away. “We’ll speak again, soon,” he added as he headed up the staircase. 

You wandered the halls, head in the clouds, daydreaming of the kiss that almost happened between you and Michael. You were certain now that whatever you were feeling was more than a crush. 

“Ms. Y/n?” Ms. Mead started as you almost walked into her. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you gasped, feeling embarrassed as you suddenly returned to planet Earth. 

“Everything alright?”

You giggled, “I’m fine, never better.”

She gave you an odd look, “Are you sure? This morning you didn’t look too well.”

You smiled warmly at her, “It was just a little headache, that’s all.”

She nodded, still not completely convinced. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you, Ms. Mead.”

She sighed, straightening out her coat as you both stood there in the middle of the empty corridor. You were about to ask what was on her mind, but suddenly she opened her mouth. 

“Have you talked to him yet? Mr. Langdon?” She asked. 

“I have,” you replied, trying not to smile too wide.

She looked down. “The others seemed worse off after talking to him,” she shared. “Can’t say I’m looking forward to my turn.”

“Why?” You inquired, voice laced with concern. “Surely your hard work and dedication to The Cooperative should guarantee you a spot.”

“That’s kind of you to say.” 

“It’s the truth,” you assured her. 

“What do you make of him?” Ms. Mead asked, unsure how to feel about the newcomer, he was with The Cooperative afterall and her loyalty to her employer was still strong. She had followed orders and had done the best she could in these circumstances. Perhaps, this Langdon did hold the key to salvation. 

“It’s hard to put it into words,” you began to explain. “But I feel a connection to him.”

“Just keep your wits about you,” she advised, giving you a slight nod as she left. 

…

You were moving sluggishly, having spent most of the morning in bed trying to recover from another headache. While the pain lingered, your head no longer felt like it was going to explode. 

Slowly, you pulled open your wardrobe and shifted through your options wishing there was something comfier and easier to wear instead of all these complicated dresses. 

You eventually settled on a simple tea gown which you were able to wear without a corset. As you were tying the back of the bodice, someone knocked on your door.

“Ms. Venable?” You questioned, stepping back as she invited herself into your bedroom. 

“Close the door,” she ordered, standing tall with both of her hands clasping her cane. 

You pushed the door closed, but remained far from Ms. Venable. She had never dropped in on you like this, and you didn’t like it. It felt too invasive, seeing her in your room acting as if she owned the place. You knew nothing good would come from this visit. 

“I want you to tell me more about the boy,” she demanded, her dark eyes boring into yours.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Hiding something?” She probed. 

“No,” you objected. “I’ve already told you everything I could remember.”

“Surely that’s not all,” she argued, giving you an incredulous look. 

After what Ms. Mead shared with her about the beautiful boy, Ms. Venable was now convinced that the two of you were speaking of the same boy. The way you both reacted emotionally while speaking of your love for him made it obvious. 

Now the big question was who was this boy? 

Since the beginning, Ms. Venable had suspected that there was a connection between Ms. Mead and you. This only solidified her suspicions that you and her knew each other from before, most likely through The Cooperative. 

This had to be why Ms. Mead had protected you, you were the one that should’ve been killed instead of Stu. But Ms. Mead had decided otherwise, despite the clear orders Ms. Venable had given her. No one would have cared or even noticed if you had died. You were an outlier, something unpredictable to the order she had created here. She wanted you gone. 

“Think harder,” Ms. Venable commanded, glaring at you. “Who is the boy?”

“I don’t know,” you pressed your back against the wall. 

She slammed her cane on the floor. “Worthless girl,” she snapped. “You have no idea what’s at stake here.”

You had to know something. The order she had worked so hard to cultivate was beginning to crumble, it was all in jeopardy because of the arrival of Langdon. He was pulling it all apart at the seams, revealing her lies and planting the seeds of disobedience. He brought chaos and disorder into her outpost while repeatedly undermining her authority. She needed to regain some sort of control, before it was too late. 

“What?” You furrowed your brows, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks. “I don’t understand, what does he have to do with anything?”

Ms. Venable practically snarled, “Liar.”

You jumped slightly as your door suddenly opened, revealing Michael standing on the other side. 

“Ms. Venable,” he began. “I’ve been waiting in my office for quite some time…I still have questions for Ms. y/n,” he explained, folding his arms behind his back.

Ms.Venable glared at Michael, clenching her jaw tightly, her hands practically shaking with irritation over the sudden disruption. 

“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he warned.

Ms. Venable didn't budge, she didn’t like being played for a fool, you knew more than you were letting on and she could see now that there was something going on between you and Langdon. 

Micheal smirked, obviously amused.“I think it’s time for you to leave,” he stated, taking a step to the side gesturing for her to go. 

She huffed, her cane tapping on the floor as she finally took her leave.

“Mr. Langdon,” you said softly, tilting your head.

“Michael,” he corrected.

“Michael,” you started again. “I wasn’t aware we were meeting again so soon.”

He smiled, directing his attention to you. “I wanted to continue where we left off yesterday. And now that Ms. Venable is gone, we can.”

Your face flushed as you recalled how your interview with him ended. You could still picture his face just inches from yours, his lips parted as you leaned in towards him. You had wondered if  you had just a minute or two longer with him, what would’ve happened? Was he really going to kiss you?

“What are you thinking about?” He looked around your room, before approaching you, his hands wrapping around your elbows as he pulled you towards him.

“Nothing,” you answered in a small voice. 

He laughed lightly, “I’m sure it’s not nothing.” His fingers curled tighter around your arms. “Let’s see… does it have anything to do with me?”

You bit your lip and nodded. 

He smirked triumphantly. “You don’t have to be so nervous about that,” Michael mused. “I want you to think about me… to want me. Do you want me?”

You nodded again, not trusting your voice. 

“Good,” he murmured. “Considering how we might end up the last two people on Earth.”

You furrowed your brow as Michael reached up, his knuckle running along your cheek. 

“Which brings me to why I’m here,” he continued, lowering his hand making you immediately miss his touch as it left your skin. “I have important news, news that I wanted to deliver to you in person.”

He focused on your face with a serious look, “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room, do you understand?”

“Yes,” you promised. 

Michael leaned down, his lips right by your ear. “You’ve been granted a spot at The Sanctuary.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. You couldn’t believe it. 

He smiled, placing his index finger over your lips. “This is our little secret.”

His finger lingered on your skin for a moment before he reluctantly released you. Smoothing out his coat, he gave you one last look, before leaving you there speechless. 

…

The complex multi-level underground structure of Outpost 3 was prone to creating strange moving shadows. It wasn’t dark figures following you in your peripherals. The fire and candle light that lit up each room and passage were unable to reach all the far corners. 

It was eerie at the beginning, constantly feeling like you had to look over your shoulder, but eventually you got used to it, like you did with the cubes, the complicated clothes, and the same song that played every damn day. It just became part of your reality. 

But lately you began to feel as though you were being followed by more than just the usual shadows, this new dark figure seemed more real, more solid. 

At first you blamed your mind, thinking it was playing tricks on you or mistaking the shadows for a real person. Since you weren’t getting much sleep, because of the vivid dreams and the horrendous headaches, it didn’t seem unreasonable to suspect that you might be hallucinating. 

You couldn’t shake the feeling, however. Unlike the shadows, it seemed to have more mobility, slinking along the walls or even the ceiling, watching you, but you were never able to get a good look at it. A few times, in the middle of night, you had jolted awake swearing that you had felt someone in bed beside you. 

You felt like you were losing your mind. 

Walking past the large fire in the atrium, you hoped that things would be better at The Sanctuary, less dreary and hopeless like the outpost had become. The change in scenery alone would be a welcomed change. 

You sighed thinking about what Michael had said about it just being you and him, you wished he had elaborated. 

Out of nowhere, you saw a dark figure move above you, against your better judgment you followed it, going up the stairs to a vacant room. 

You stood there frozen as a shadowy figure stood across from you. It tilted its head, staring at you. Its body was covered head to toe in latex. 

“Who are you?” You asked. 

It didn’t answer. 

“Michael?” You took a step closer, observing it more closely, wondering who or what it could be dressed like that. Your eyes wandered over its body, the tight fitting material left little to the imagination. 

It moved forward as well, extending its hand and caressing your cheek similar to how Michael had done earlier, but the texture of the latex on your skin made your skin crawl. It lacked the warmth and comfort Michael’s touch had brought you. The same touch that had excited you earlier, the same touch you craved to feel again. 

You squirmed as it laid its other hand on your waist. Desire radiated from its body as it pulled you closer. 

Fingers drifted up towards your chest. Your heart began to race, panic settling over you as you speculated what the strange creature would do next. 

The hand that had caressed your cheek trailed towards your neck. You inhaled sharply as its large fingers wrapped around your neck. 

Firmly you pushed it away from you. 

It tilted its head the other way, watching you attentively. For a moment you were worried that you had upset the person or creature, but it simply walked past you and out the door, seemingly satisfied. 

You stumbled backwards until your back hit a wall, releasing a shaky breath you had been holding in. 

The interaction was so odd and brief, that you couldn’t make sense of what had just happened. But something deep down told you it was a test. That Michael was testing you. 

Breathing in deeply, you tried to regain your composure. You knew it didn’t have any sort of malicious intent, it was more that you felt repulsed by the idea of anyone other than Michael touching you like that. 

You hoped you had seen the last of it. 

…

You were in the library when you heard that Evie had passed. You sat there for hours, in silence, as you tried to process the news. 

Gallant was at least courteous enough to find and tell you that she had died, emphasizing that she had died peacefully in her sleep. He held a somber expression, trying desperately to appear upset, nodding his head as he expressed that she had lived a long and fuller life than most. Too bad the crocodile tears he managed to muster were wasted, you were so despondent that you weren’t really listening anymore as he cried.

You weren’t sure how to feel about the situation, she had been a friend to you when you had no one, but you weren’t blind to her boasting and egotistical nature. You sure that in life she had more enemies than friends, even her own grandson barely seemed to tolerate her. 

There would be no funeral, no ceremony celebrating her life or to mourn her, everyone would just move on without a second thought. 

Your head shot up as you felt the couch dip beside you. 

Michael crossed his legs and propped his arm up on the back of the sofa, resting his head on his hand, as he turned his body towards you. 

“You’ve heard the news, I assume?” He asked, in a gentle tone.

You nodded as tears finally streamed down your face. Suddenly it all felt more real, now that Michael was here. Evie was really gone and your world seemed smaller now because of it. 

He rested his free hand over yours as you cried freely, his thumb caressing circles on the top of your hand. It took several minutes before you were able to compose yourself. 

“I know she wasn’t anyone’s favorite person,” you sniffled. “She rubbed people the wrong way, made everything about her, but Constance was my-“

You stopped speaking as you realized your mistake. 

Constance? 

The name had slipped from your lips so easily, like you had said it many times before, but that made no sense, you didn’t know anyone by that name, or did you?

Michael paused, his entire body becoming stiff as he peered at your face. 

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head. “I don’t know where that came from. I’ve been getting these headaches and having the weirdest dreams.”

“It’s alright,” he reassured you, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Perhaps, it’s your mind preparing itself for when your memories return. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

You wiped your face, and inhaled deeply, “Thank you for being here with me.”

“Of course,” he murmured, shifting in his seat and taking the hand he was holding and moving it to his lap. He reclined his head on the back of the sofa as you scooted closer to him, laying your head against his shoulder.

Michael stared at the chandelier, watching flames on the candles flicker with a pensive expression, his hand holding yours tighter as his thoughts drifted back to memories he had forbidden himself from revisiting. 

He had changed and grown so much over the past couple of years, but having you back by his side invoked so many emotions and memories. You were always there when he needed you, when he wanted you. 

He felt like such a monster after Grandma’s death. It left him wondering whether people were incapable of loving him because he was so wicked, evil. But you stayed with him, comforted him, loved him. You had knelt down beside him on the wooden floors, letting him cry upon your shoulder as you held him close... 

Michael blinked a few times, holding back tears. “You should get some rest,” he managed to say in an even tone. 

You stretched your arms over your head and nodded. Your entire body felt heavy. Once you arrived in your room you collapsed on your bed, passing out, too tired to dream. 

… 

Michael closed his laptop and rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t focus on his work. The events from earlier had opened the floodgates, leaving him feeling like he was drowning inside. 

It was becoming such a struggle to keep you at arms length. Even without your memories he could see that you were still drawn to him, that you still cared for him, and it was taking all of his self restraint not to take advantage of that. 

There was nothing he wouldn’t give to have things like they were… to listen to you talk softly as you played with his hair or to reach out and hold your hand whenever he needed to.

But it was still too soon, he still had to keep you safe. 

He glanced at the trunk that held the few belongings he brought with him to the outpost. Laying on top was a book of yours, your favorite book. You had read it to him so many times that he grew to love it as much as you did. 

Closing his eyes Michael could picture the last time you read it to him, as clear as day, back in the old mansion. It was the middle of the afternoon, his head was resting on your belly as both laid together in his room, your nails were scratching his scalp. He had fallen asleep before you reached the end…

For nearly two years he tried to read it, but he never got very far, it was only a good book when you were reading it. 

Michael was sitting in front of the fireplace, head resting against his hand as he gazed into the flames. A worn book sat on his lap, forgotten. Just a few more days he kept reminding himself, he had worked so hard to get to this point, but soon he’d have everything he wanted. 

He turned his head as you opened the door and peeked in. 

“You wanted to see me?”

“That’s right,” Michael nodded, rising from his seat and taking a few long strides towards you. “I’ve heard you’ve read most of the books available in the library.”

“Not much else to do,” you smiled slightly, shutting the door behind you. 

“Would you like a new book to read?” He asked, looking down at you. “I have a feeling, you’ll really enjoy this one.”  He dangled the book that had been on his lap in front of you. 

You tilted your head, giving him a wary look, but as soon as you reached out to accept it, he pulled it away with a smug grin. 

Micheal tutted, shaking his head. “Not so quick, there’s a catch,” he teased, holding it over his shoulder. “If you want to read it, you have to read it to me.”

“Read it to you?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, getting closer to you.

“I don’t understand,” you muttered.“Why?”

“So many questions,” Michael chuckled. “If you really don’t want to, I could ask one of the others, Gallant, maybe? Or Coco?”

“I’ll do it,” you blurted out, the thought of him asking someone else smacked you with a bout of anxiety, making your heart jump into your throat. Again you made a reach for the book, and this time he allowed you to take it. With a smile, he relinquished the hardback book to you, and headed back towards the fireplace. 

Gracefully, he shucked off his black coat and laid it on the back of one of the chairs. As you were about to sit on the other armchair, he stopped you and offered you his hand, guiding you to the rug on the floor. 

You knelt down on your knees first, before trying your best to get comfortable on the floor. The tight bodice and large skirt on your dress limited your mobility.

You were caught off guard as Michael joined you, resting his head upon your lap as stretched out on the carpet. His face looked up, his attention all on you as he waited for you to start. 

Clearing your throat, you opened the book to the first chapter and started reading. Michael took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his arms laying across his chest as you read in a soft and steady tone. 

Michael was right, you immediately became engrossed in the story and attached to its characters. Time passed comfortably between the two of you as if this were a regular occurrence or activity. Absent-mindedly, you played with Michael’s hair, casually twirling the silky strands around your finger. He slowly opened his eyes gazing at the fireplace with the same vulnerable expression you had briefly seen before. 

He snatched your hand, curling his fingers around your palm, with a firm grip he placed your hand on his chest holding it there with both of his. 

You stopped reading, and looked down at him. His head was still turned away from you, long blonde locks covering the side of his face. You could feel his heart beating under your touch. Your fingers slowly grasped the front of his shirt. Laying the book down, you reached out and tucked his hair behind his ear. 

Michael closed his eyes and gave a long drawn out sigh before immediately sitting up. 

“Michael?”

He didn’t answer as he got to his feet. 

Just then, two grays abruptly slid the large black doors open. Ms. Venable appeared heated, her lips forming a scowl as she stared daggers between you and Michael. 

“It’s time for dinner,” Ms. Venable reminded sharply. “You’ve already missed cocktail hour.”

Michael stepped in front of you, protectively, blocking Ms. Venable’s view of you. 

“My apologies,” he said, though his expression said otherwise.

Ms. Venable pursed her lips, her hand balling into a fist. Michael narrowed his eyes, standing tall, almost daring Ms. Venable to say something else with him present. Finally, she averted her gaze.

He lifted his coat from the chair and slipped it back on effortlessly. “I’ll escort her down.”

Michael waited until she left, before he helped you up. He still appeared irritated over the intrusion, acting unusually quiet. 

You placed your hand on his upper arm, guiding him to face you. Michael raised his brow as he looked down at you, a faint smile forming on his lips. 

Offering you his arm, he led you downstairs. 

…

Ms. Venable gathered everyone in the music room, purples and grays, under the guise of an emergency meeting. All eyes were on her as she began to speak of the hardships endured by all during the past months. 

“I believe now what we need is a moment of celebration,” she announced. “Which is why this weekend, as a gesture of goodwill, we will have a Halloween soirée.”

Gallant and Coco were the only ones to react with notable excitement. The rest of the purples seemed to question the real purpose of this masquerade.

You couldn’t help but notice the lack of Evie’s big personality in the room, the other purples seemed so dull by comparison. You missed her witty comments and humor. She probably had some interesting stories relating to Halloween. 

Gallant, perhaps reading your expression, added how it was a shame his grandmother wouldn’t be present. However, he did a piss poor job of pretending to be sad. You wanted to roll your eyes at the comment, but resisted.

With everyone present in one room, with the exception of Michael, you were reminded that you had been selected for The Sanctuary. You were curious about who else Michael had chosen. 

You glanced briefly at Ms.Mead, if it were up to you, you would pick her to join. She was far more useful and resourceful than the others, and could handle stressful situations with a cool head from what you had witnessed. To you she was simply one of the best this Outpost had to offer. 

“I encourage you all to use your imaginations, to create what I am sure to be exquisite costumes,” Ms. Venable continued. 

Once again the only ones who appeared happy about this whole ordeal were Coco and Gallant. It seemed strange for Ms. Venable to be acting so out of character, for her to care about something as frivolous as Halloween or making amends to anyone. There had to be more to it all. 

Before dismissing everyone, she stressed, “Attendance is mandatory.” 

The day of the masquerade, you had spent most of the day primping and preening hoping to look your best for the night. Even though it seemed unlikely, a part of you was holding out hope that you would see Michael tonight. 

You did a little twirl in front of the full length mirror in your room. You were wearing a full length dark purple gown with an off -shoulder neckline made of silky ruffles. 

Arriving in the music room, you spotted Ms. Mead who entered with a cart carrying apples. You felt a flutter of excitement, watching as she started to add them to a a barrel of water. They looked so appetizing. The others began to gather around, stunned that there was fresh fruit. 

Looking at their faces as they stood around the barrel, you realized that you had left your mask upstairs. While they were all distracted with the fresh apples for the party, you snuck away and headed back to your room. 

Lifting the skirt of your dress, you hurried back up the steps, but slowed down immediately when saw Micheal standing on the landing. His hand was resting on the bannister, as he gazed down at you. 

“Are you heading downstairs?” You asked as you made your way up. 

Michael chuckled, “Afraid not.”

“Oh,” you said with a sad smile, trying to hide your disappointment. 

He offered you his hand as you took the last few steps up. Michael’s lips curled into a sneer as he examined you and your dress.

“Such an ugly color,” he criticized, his finger grazing over the dark purple fabric. “Doesn’t suit you at all.”

You glanced down at it, “There’s not much variety when it comes to color in my closet.” 

He hummed, his hands undoing his scarf. He held it up to your face, before wrapping it securely around your neck, “Now red,” he murmured. “Red looks good on you.”

You could feel your face heat up over the small compliment. 

Michael sighed as he took a moment to admire you, then leaned down, his lips close to your ear. “I bet you’d look even better in black.” 

He pulled back. “Come with me,” he invited. 

You bit your lip, looking back towards the stairs leading down to the music room. 

He shook his head and reached for your hand. “No one will even notice you're not there.”

“But Ms. Venable said attendance was mandatory,” you whispered, playing with one end of the scarf. 

Micheal frowned, his grip on your hand tightening, “I thought you’d want to spend time with me.”

“I do,” you said quickly.

“Then why are you hesitating?” He inquired, his voice steadily rising. “I can give you whatever you want, they can’t.”

You cupped his cheek, you hadn’t seen him become so emotional before, “I just wanted to try an apple, that’s all, but I’d rather be with you.”

He examined your face, his eyes practically staring straight into your soul. “That’s all?” He asked softly. 

With a deep breath, his calm and confident façade returned. Lacing his fingers with yours, Michael led you to his room. 

He motioned for you to have a seat on his bed, before he bent down and unlatched a black chest that was on the floor. From the chest he produced an apple. 

Michael held it out towards you, it was a deep rich red color and unblemished. It looked perfect. You only hoped it tasted as good as it looked. 

“Go ahead,” he urged, sitting by his desk and watching intently as you brought the apple to your lips. 

You moaned as you bit into it, savoring the satisfying crunch and the sweet taste as juice dribbled down your chin. You took several more bites, giggling a little as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

You suddenly felt self conscious as you realized Micheal was still watching, his gaze firmly fixed on you. 

“How is it?” He asked, shifting forward as he moved his elbows from his chair onto his knees. 

You hid your mouth behind your hand as you swallowed, “Delicious.”

“Is that right?”

“Best thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“I can think of something that tastes better,” he leaned forward, tilting his head and stroking his hand against your cheek and down to your neck as he pulled you closer. “It’s time for you to come back to me, y/n.”

His soft lips brushed against yours, before parting. His tongue lightly trailed over your lower lip, tasting the juice from the apple. You melted against him, your apple slipping from your fingers and falling to the floor as you held onto him. You closed your eyes, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling. 

Who would’ve thought a kiss would be so powerful? 

***flashback***

Micheal sat by the window, anxiously awaiting for your arrival. When grandma had shared that she was going out for the evening, and that you would be the one coming to watch him, he immediately perked up with excitement. 

“How much longer grandma?” He whined.

“Not much longer,” she replied, patting the top of her grandson’s head. 

Constance felt like she had hit the jackpot when you started sitting for her. After the last few babysitters, who had unfortunately met their demise here in her house, she feared that she’d never be able to go out alone or get a moment’s peace without having to add one death on her already guilt ridden conscience. But after that first night, when she entered her home and saw you alive and well with Micheal beside you just as happy as he could be, she honestly felt like the luckiest woman alive. 

“Now remember to behave yourself, Micheal,” Constance started. “We both like Ms. y/n very much, don't we? It would be such a pity if she wasn’t around anymore.” 

Micheal nodded his head, “I’ll be good.”

Now, Constance was no fool, she had her suspicions as to why her grandson made an exception when it came to you. The little dear had a crush on you, his first crush. It was truly sweet, watching him moon over you, almost made Micheal seem like a normal boy. 

“She’s here!” Micheal shouted, jumping out of his seat to greet you at the door. 

“Hi, Micheal,” you laughed as he wrapped his arms around your middle, squeezing you tightly. 

“I missed you,” he mumbled, face pressed into stomach. 

“I missed you too,” you rubbed his back as he squeezed you even tighter. 

Constance smiled, grabbing her purse, “I’ll be back at 10. Have fun you two!”

“We will!” You replied, waving as she headed out. 

You crouched down, onto your knees, looking Michael eye to eye, “Why don’t you go pick out a movie, okay?”

Micheal nodded, rushing into the living room, and grabbing the TV remote before flopping onto the couch and scrolling through the channels. 

Micheal was by far the easiest kid you cared for, he followed your instructions, never had a tantrum or fussed, and always seemed so happy when you were around. 

There had been rumors circulating around the neighborhood that made you hesitant about accepting the position. Everyone had heard about the deaths in the house, of course, but rumors were now spreading about how those nannies and sitters were actually murdered. However, after getting to know Micheal and Constance, you were glad you took the job. There was no way this sweet little boy could’ve hurt anyone. 

He may have had some odd interests, but he just seemed so innocent. 

“What movie did you pick?” You asked from the kitchen as the popcorn finished popping. 

“The Omen,” he answered. 

“Are you sure you want to watch that one? It’s pretty scary,” you warned. 

“I’m sure.”

You shrugged, curling up on the couch beside him with a big bowl of buttery popcorn. You didn’t mind his interests, no matter how strange they might be to others. In your opinion, watching a horror movie was way better than watching The Wiggles or whatever else kids were into these days. 

After a while, you grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and covered your legs. Michael’s eyes were glued to the screen, but he managed to snuggle closer to you as you shared the blanket with him. 

You winced as the nanny jumped, the noose successfully snapping her neck. It had been a few years since you’ve watched this particular horror classic. Usually you weren’t so jumpy, but it took you by surprise. 

Michael shifted in his seat and looked at you. “It’s not his fault, right?” He asked in a small voice. 

You raised your brow, and sat up, grabbing the remote and turning the volume down. “What Michael?”

“Damien and the stuff that’s happening, it’s not his fault, right?”

You looked back at the TV screen and thought about it for a moment. It was an interesting question. Damien is the son of the devil, but he’s still a child after all, and children are innocent and still learning about right and wrong. The contradictory nature of Damien’s existence is part of what makes the film so captivating. Makes the viewer wonder about all the evil people in the world and where it all went wrong for them. 

How much of Damien’s circumstance was his fault? He didn’t ask to be born, he had no control over who his father was… Does he understand that his desires are evil? Is he compelled to act on these impulses without choice? Does he have free will?

You could feel Michael’s gaze on you as you mulled it over. His eyes examined every little feature and movement your face made. His small hands gripped the knees of his pants as anxiety built up within him as he waited for your answer. 

“It’s complicated, I think,” you said. “It’s not all his fault but some of it is.”

Michael laid back on the couch as he processed what you said. “I’d never hurt you, y/n.”

He didn’t want you to end up like the others before, they didn’t come back and he was fine with that, but he’d feel terrible if that happened to you. The thought of you being gone forever made him feel a lot of things, sad, angry, lonely… he would never hurt you. 

…

“Well, don’t you look nice,” Constance complimented as she opened the door and invited you in. “If you had other plans, dear, you didn’t have to come.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I wouldn’t call being stood up plans.”

“His loss, Honey,” Constance reassured you, giving you a small pat on the arm. 

You had been waiting alone at the restaurant when Constance called you, you immediately accepted. You figured speanding time with Michael was better than going home alone to mope over some dumb guy anyways. 

“Where’s Michael?” You asked, surprised he hadn’t already bulldozed you with a hug. 

Michael peeked his head from around the corner, he was blushing bright red the moment he saw you. You never looked so pretty before. You were dressed up like a princess. 

You tilted your head and smiled, “Why are you being so shy, silly?” You knelt down with your arms wide open. 

Michael rushed over, looping his arms around you. 

“Sorry again about your date, dear,” Constance consoled you as she grabbed her coat. 

“I’ll be fine,” you laughed as she headed towards the door. “I’ve got Michael to cheer me up.”

He pulled away from you beaming, “I can do that.”

You smiled back at him and winked, “Why don’t we start our night with some ice cream?”

He nodded eagerly following you to the kitchen.

“So you were on a date?” Michael asked, hopping onto one of the stools at the breakfast nook. 

“Sort of,” you shrugged, getting ice cream out of the freezer and setting it on the counter to soften. “It’s not really a date when the other person doesn’t show up.”

“Is dating like getting married?” He inquired, swinging his legs back and forth. 

“No, not exactly,” you answered without missing a beat, juggling your conversation while opening the fridge and grabbing the chocolate syrup and whip cream. “Dating is more of a step towards getting married, people date to figure out if they want to marry the person.”

Michael nodded, “What do you do on a date?”

“Oh, all sorts of things,” you grabbed bowls from the cabinet. “Watch a movie, go out to dinner, walk in the park, just any activity where I can talk and get to know the other person.”

“Are we dating?” Michael asked with an earnest look. 

You paused, still holding the bowls, as you turned around to face him. The question caught you completely off guard. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, we do all those things together,” he explained. “We eat together, watch movies, play at the park, talk…”

You laughed, “you’re right, we do do all those things together.”

“So we’re dating?”

You sighed, fishing through the drawer for the ice cream scooper. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but we’re not.”

“Why not?” He asked, concern written all over his face. “Don’t you like me?”

“Of course I do,” you murmured, handing him a bowl and a spoon and ruffling his hair. “But when it comes to dating, you should pick someone that's the same age as you.”

“Grandma doesn’t,” he said bluntly. 

You bit your lip, trying hard not to laugh or smile, he wasn't wrong. You took a moment to think about your next words carefully. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you have to be an adult.”

Michael sighed and nodded, picking at his food. He hated all those ‘when you're older’ things. “So will you date me when I’m an adult?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind dating an ugly old lady,” you teased. 

“Don’t say that,” he declared, his blue eyes fixated on you, full of determination. “You’ll always be beautiful.”

You smiled and kissed his forehead, “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

…

Michael was overjoyed, his prayers had been granted overnight. He had gone to bed wishing, begging, to be older, to be an adult. He was so desperate to be with you, he never wanted anything so badly. 

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, his fingers examining his older face, he turned his head side to side, wondering if you would still think he was cute. 

Constance was still so rattled from the shock of finding a full grown Michael asleep in his small bed, that she hadn’t been able to stop shaking all morning. 

Michael couldn’t wait to show you the new him. He bounced downstairs to find grandma, she needed to call you, invite you over right now so you could see. 

When he first asked, she made up an excuse saying you were too busy, but as days passed he began getting more and more irritable, throwing tantrums, whining and crying for you to come over. 

She disconnected the phone. That pushed him over the edge. He screamed, yelling that he hated her, while yanking the phone and cord off the wall. 

But she couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk Michael calling you or you calling the house. 

Constance was worried for your well being, how could you accept what she couldn’t, if you refused him after what he did for you, how he grew up just for you, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to end your life. In a strange way, you represented the last small piece of humanity that Michael had. It would be a shame if he snuffed it out. 

He couldn’t sleep, he was still so angry, why was grandma doing this to him. Why was she being so mean? He balled his fists, breathing fast. He didn’t want to listen to her anymore or follow her dumb rules or do anything she says…

Michael seemed to have blacked out after that, because the next thing he knew his hands were wrapped around his grandmother’s throat. He gasped, tears falling from his eyes as he finally let her go. 

He didn’t mean to. 

The next day Constance called the priest. She had no other alternatives. She had never in her life been so afraid. But when that fell through, and she saw the priest dead on the floor, she finally snapped. 

…

All morning you kept looking at your phone, thinking any minute it would light up and ring. When you hadn’t heard from Constance, you became concerned. Typically you watched Michael at least three days a week, if not more. But by the time the afternoon rolled around, and you still hadn’t heard a thing, you decided to call. 

You tapped your foot anxiously as you held your phone to your ear, but your stomach dropped when a robotic voice informed you that the line was no longer in service. 

Dropping the phone, you immediately bolted out the door. Fortunately, you lived nearby as you began to sprint towards their house. Your mind was racing, as you assumed the worst had happened. You prayed that they were both safe. 

You came to a sudden stop, as you stood across the street from their house, a young man emerged from the front door in a hurry. He seemed completely distraught, walking barefoot, tears streaming down his face, eyes bloodshot. 

You jogged towards him. “Are you okay?” You asked, voice laced with concern. 

He lifted his head at the sound of your voice. “Y/n?” The man gasped, immediately reaching out for you. 

You took a few steps back, the poor boy looked like you had just punched him in the gut. 

He started crying harder, “Don’t you recognize me?”

You narrowed your eyes, gently placing your hands on his cheeks, directing his face side to side, so you could get a look at him. He was beautiful, gorgeous even, with a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and clear blue eyes. 

“Michael?” You whispered. Looking into his eyes, you knew it was him, even though it was impossible.

“Grandma’s mad at me,” he wailed, his hands clinging to your shirt as he buried his face against your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, stroking his back.

“Will you take care of me, y/n?” He sobbed. 

“Of course-“ you stopped talking as Constance came outside. 

Her face was hard and stoic as she watched you and Michael before she motioned for you to come into the house. 

“Let’s go inside,” you murmured, brushing his hair away from his eyes. 

At first Michael didn’t budge as he looked over his shoulder back at Constance. 

“It’s alright,” you encouraged him, taking his hand and walking back to the house. 

Constance forced a smile as she greeted you, “You’re taking this better than I did.” 

She gave Michael a cold look, who immediately looked down at his feet as he shuffled into the house.

Once inside, the reality of the situation sunk in as you sat across from a full grown Michael, who was sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. He stared up at you full of adoration. 

“So you’re older now…” you began. 

He beamed, “Yep! I did it for you.”

“You… did this for me?”

Michael nodded, his eyes still red from crying. 

“How?”

He shrugged, “I just wished for it really really hard. I never wanted anything more.” His face turned serious, 

“So what do you think?” 

“What do I think?” You repeated. You were still trying to figure out why he did this for you. You glanced at him and saw his hopeful expression. “I think… you look very handsome.”

“So you like it?”

“Of course, I do. You did it for me.”

The next day Constance invited you over. Michael was still in his room when you arrived. She seemed tired, distant, expressing that she wasn’t up to going out. 

“Y/n, dear,” Constance laid a hand on your shoulder. “Mind taking Michael out for a bit? Could do him some good to get out of the house.”

“Sure,” you nodded, before heading upstairs. Outside Michael's room you could hear the TV, the sound effects gave away that he was busy playing a video game.

“Hey Michael,” you said, leaning against the doorframe to his room. “Want to go out with me?”

“Like a date?” He perked up like a little puppy, dropping his video game controller on his bed. 

“Sure,” you laughed. You had never seen him move so fast as he scrambled to his closet and grabbed a pair of tennis shoes and a jacket, putting them on in record time. 

“I’m ready,” he said eagerly, taking your hand in his and practically raced down stairs with you stumbling behind him. “Bye Grandma!”

It felt odd, not in a bad way, just different. 

Michael was obviously adjusting to his older body. He wasn’t used to being so big or strong, and he was still behaving with the same amount of energy as a boy would, like holding your hand with all his might. 

He blushed as you explained that he had to loosen his grip a little because he was so strong now, but you still found his enthusiasm endearing. 

“So what would you like to do today?” You asked him. 

“Let’s go to the park, then have milkshakes,” he said animatedly. 

The two of you walked to the neighborhood park, taking a small stroll around the pond watching the ducks swim. Suddenly Michael bolted towards the playground, dragging you behind him. 

“The swings are open!” He shouted. 

“Michael,” you half laughed, half shouted, trying to keep up with him. 

“Come on,” he said, letting go of your hand and grabbing the swing chains. “I’ll push you!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said, embarrassed. 

“Please,” He rocked the swing side to side. “It’ll be fun!”

You shook your head as you finally relented, unable to resist his puppy dog eyes.

He grinned, holding the swing steady as you sat down. “Hold on tight,” he whispered in your ear before he started pulling the swing back. 

You giggled as you swung forward then back again, his hands catching you each time and pushing you higher and higher. Michael was busy enjoying himself, listening to you laugh as he pushed you harder, he forgot to pay attention to how hard he was pushing you and accidentally pushed you too hard. 

You fell forward, landing on your hands and knees. Hissing, you moved so you could sit properly. You bit your lip, tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you tried to bend your knee to get a better look. You had a large gash that stung.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he whispered, kneeling in front of you. Michael’s heart was hammering in his chest, he had never seen you upset before… your pain, your tears, hurt him more than the angry words his grandma had shouted at him yesterday. 

“I’ll be alright,” you said, mustering up a smile for him. 

Michael winced watching the blood drip down your calf. He thought about how the other nannies and sitters bled when they made him mad, they didn’t come back after that. Would you leave him now too? 

You scanned the area, hoping there was a bathroom or drinking fountain nearby so you could at least wash some of the blood off. 

“Here,” Michael said, taking a hold of your leg as he thought of a way to fix it. “I’ll kiss it better.” 

“You don’t have to-“

But he pressed his lips to your knee before you could stop him. The kiss lingered longer than the quick peck you had expected him to give. His eyes were closed, deep in concentration. Lifting his head, he licked the smear of blood off his lips. 

“All better,” he chirped. 

You ran your fingers over your knee, the cut was gone leaving your knee looked as good as new. “Michael, how did you…” 

You dropped the subject as you looked up at him, golden hair shining in the sunlight as he sat back in the grass. It seemed stupid to ask, healing your knee was probably easy compared to changing his age or any of the other strange things he had accomplished. 

“Can we go get a milkshake now you?” Michael yawned. “I’m hungry and tired.”

“Sure,” you replied, still dazed. 

He held out both of his hands to you, helping you up off the ground, and immediately laced his fingers with yours as he started leading the way. 

Michael insisted on sharing a milkshake with you, explaining he had seen couples doing that on TV. The two of you found a table near a window by the corner. 

“Want the cherry?” You asked Michael, using the tip of your straw to push it to his side. 

Right away he plucked it from the cup and popped it into his mouth with the exception of the stem. “Thanks,” he grinned, still chewing. 

“You’re very welcome,” you leaned forward taking a big sip. 

Michael bounced, “This has been the best date!”

You chuckled, “It really has been great.”

Out of nowhere, he leaned across the table and kissed your cheek. It was a quick and innocent little peck, but his face was beet red when he sat back down. You bit your lip thinking about how cute he was acting. 

Walking home, Michael smiled, a full genuine smile, his eyes lighting up as he gazed down at you. “I like being taller than you,” he laughed. 

You smiled back at him, your hand clasped together with his, swinging them between you. As you entered the house, you immediately noted how quiet it was. Something was wrong. 

“Constance, we're back,” you called out as you closed the door. You waited for a reply, but all there was was silence. 

“Michael,” you said softly, turning to him. “Wait right here, I’m going to go upstairs. Your grandma is probably just taking a nap.”

Michael watched you as you went upstairs, he didn’t understand why you seemed so distressed. He tried to wait like you had asked him to, but Grandma was probably just next door. She did that sometimes. 

He looked out the window towards the vacant house then back toward the direction you had gone. He could be back with Grandma before you’d even realize that he had left. 

“Grandma?” Michael called wandering into the large old house. He furrowed his brow, running towards the couch when he saw her. “Grandma?” 

His heart sped up when he saw her. 

“Grandma,” Michael crumbled to his knees. “Hey, wake up.” With shaky hands he held her. 

She didn’t move or breathe, her heart had stopped beating… Michael knew a dead body when he saw one, she was gone. This was all his fault, he drove her to this. There was something wrong with him. 

“I’m sorry,” he cried, hugging her lifeless body. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh God,” you covered your mouth as you finally found Michael and Constance. “Michael,” you stumbled towards him, immediately taking him in your arms and cradling him against you. 

“This is all my fault,” he sobbed, curling his knees to his chest, hands clutching your arm. “I’m a monster.” 

“No, you’re not a monster,” you soothed. “You didn’t do this.”

You rocked Michael in your arms, your eyes surveyed the living room, there was an empty pill bottle left discarded on the nearby coffee table along with a glass of liquor. You couldn’t understand why she would kill herself.

“I-I should call someone,” you said, trying to hold yourself together. 

“Don’t call the police,” a man’s voice advised seemingly out of nowhere. 

You snapped your head around and stared wide eyed at the dark haired man who just appeared out of nowhere. He was sitting in one of the arm chairs, legs crossed with relaxed posture. 

“They’ll just take Michael away. You don’t want that do you?” He asked you in a calm voice. 

You shook your head, your sweet Micheal had been through enough already, “Who are you? I thought this house was vacant.” 

The man blatantly ignored your questions and continued, “You should go pack Michael’s things, He’s going to be staying here with us for a while.”

Michael’s hands gripped you tightly. “Will you stay with me?” He croaked.

You could feel the man’s eyes on you, observing your reaction closely. Gently, you wiped Michael’s eyes, then tilted his head up. “Of course, I’ll stay with you.”

Michael sniffled, “Forever?”

You swallowed, glimpsing at Constance’s lifeless form then back to Michael. “Forever.”

The man stayed with Michael as you went next door. You felt like you were on autopilot as you folded his shirts and packed them into a duffle bag. 

Your life was about to change drastically, but you couldn’t refuse him. You couldn’t just abandon him when he needed you the most, especially not after the only family he had killed herself. 

You knew Michael was different, very different, but he still needed someone, someone that could accept and love him even with all the terrible and strange things that came with him… he needed you.

It didn’t take you long to piece together that Ben and the others in the house were ghosts, or perhaps they preferred spirits. 

Living in a haunted house took some getting used to. Michael adjusted faster than you did, you were secretly grateful that he wanted to share a room with you, so at least you weren’t alone at night. 

It was unnerving seeing them from the corner of your eye, only for them to disappear when you turned your head. Ben was the only one you had officially met so far, but you were aware that his family along with many others were trapped in the house. 

Michael quickly began to view Ben as a father figure. They spent a lot of time together playing games and having long conversations. 

You were happy that Michael was opening up to someone. From what you had gathered Ben was a psychologist, you hoped that he’d be able to help Michael, especially with the trauma of losing Constance. 

… 

You were doing laundry and other little chores around the house while Michael was busy with some father and son bonding with Ben. 

As you were getting clothes out of the dryer and into a wicker basket, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Looking up, you saw a young man with blonde hair like Michael’s staring at you from the doorway. 

Clutching Michael’s yellow t-shirt, you stared back at the man, who then sneered and simply vanished. You stayed planted there for several seconds as you wondered who he was. 

“Don’t let him get to you,” a woman’s voice said gently. You whipped around to see a woman with long strawberry blonde hair. 

“He won’t do anything,” she explained with a half smile. “Probably more curious than anything else.”

You furrowed your brow, “Curious about what?”

“You,” she answered. “And about why you’ve stayed.” Her eyes traveled to the shirt in your hands. “Guess some of us are just surprised you’ve stuck around.”

“Because Michael’s different from everyone else?” you questioned.

“That’s one way to put it,” she sighed and leaned against the washing machine. “He’s… he acts differently around you. You mean a lot to him.”

Looking at her sorrowful expression, it seemed like there was something she else wanted to say. You jumped as a baby began to cry. 

“I have to go,” she said, excusing herself. 

You sighed, shaking your head, living with ghosts was like having a bunch of eccentric roommates sometimes. You dropped Michael’s shirt with the rest of clean laundry in the basket, then knelt down to lift it up. Walking into the living room, you found Michael and Ben. 

Michael sprung off the couch and darted towards you. 

“So what did you and Ben do today?” You chuckled. 

“We just talked,” he replied, taking the basket from you. You waved to Ben before you and Michael headed up stairs. 

“Oh, about what?”

Michael shrugged, “Just stuff.” He paused mid-step and cleared his throat. “You look really pretty today.”

You bit your lip, face heating up a bit. Despite all the compliments Michael gave you daily, he had this way about him that made you believe every little one, even on a day like this where you were dressed in just joggers and a tee. 

“Thank you, Michael.”

…

Ben was gone. 

Michael sat there between the bodies, crushed as another parental figure abandoned him. Questions ran through his mind. Why did everyone leave? What was wrong with him? How could he do these things?

Sniffling, his eyes widened as you stepped in. His pulse spiked and he began to panic. He didn’t hear you come back to the house.This wasn’t part of his plan, you weren’t supposed to see this. 

You were quiet, so quiet with a vacant look in your eye as you stared at all the blood on the floor. 

Ben, Tate, grandma had all yelled at him, they called him a monster or a freak or a coward, but you didn’t say a word. 

You had seen what he had done, seen the bodies for yourself. You looked at him with a sadness in your eyes that Michael couldn’t bear. You simply retreated back up to the room you and him shared. 

Tears spilled freely down his face as he sat on the floor. Michael had never been so scared in his life. Were you in there packing your belongings? Were you going to leave? What would he do without you?

That’s why he had to kill them in the first place, because he didn't want to be separated from you. There was no other way. The new owners would call the police once they found out you and him were living there, and the police would take him away from you.

Michael had noticed how stressed it had made you too. He could sense your worry, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. From the very moment the realtor took the for sale sign down, you and him both knew everything was at risk. 

He just wanted to keep that from happening, he was happy here with you, happier than he had ever been. So he killed the new owners and got rid of them for good, this was his home now. 

He curled into himself, hands over his head as he wailed. 

“Michael?” Your voice was so soft that he didn’t hear you at first when you returned. “Michael, you should change.”

He peeked up, surprised you came back. You kept your distance, not crossing the threshold as if there was an invisible barrier. “Y/n?”

“You should change out of that,” you said again, looking at the black latex suit he was in.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay,” he nodded, slowly getting to his feet. 

Going into the bathroom, he noticed you had set out some clean clothes for him to change into. 

Even though you were waiting for him in the room, the fear of you abandoning him hadn’t left. Michael hadn’t expected it when his grandmother left him. Were you just waiting for an opportunity to leave him? Lull him into a false sense of security then abandon him when he least suspects it?

Michael shook his head, you wouldn’t do that. 

“She’s not going to leave,” he whispered to himself before he pulled the clean white t-shirt on and the pair of pajama bottoms you had picked out for him. 

You were sitting on the edge of the bed when he emerged from the bathroom. You weren’t acting like yourself and it worried him. He noticed you hadn’t moved a muscle since he went in, you had just been staring at your hands the whole time. 

Michael’s fingers curled and uncurled as he awkwardly stood there. Wishing he knew what to say or do to make things right. 

“I’m sorry,” he started suddenly, falling to his knees in front of you. “I just didn’t want to be taken away from you. I didn’t want to leave this house.” He took your hands in his, looking up at you with genuine concern.

You nodded, you were able to piece that much together. Michael was scared and he handled the situation the only way he could, the only way he believed would keep you and him together. It was just a lot to process. 

Michael was your sweet boy, you never would have believed he was capable of something so terrible, but what was even more frightening for you was how you seemed to just accept it so easily. You weren’t mad or upset at him. Logically, you should’ve wanted to be far away from him after seeing those bodies on the floor, but looking at his face, you still cared for him, loved him. 

“We should get some rest,” you suggested. 

Michael swallowed thickly, climbing into the bed beside you as you turned out the lights. 

He couldn’t sleep, he was afraid that if he closed his eyes you’d take the chance and leave him in the middle of night. You felt both of his hands grip the back of your nightgown as he pressed his forehead against the center of your back. 

His mind kept returning to the fact that you had seen the truth, what he was capable of. Why did things have to change?

“Michael?” You could feel him tremble against you as he started sobbing again. When he didn’t respond, you tried to sit up, but that only made him cry harder while his fingers curled tighter, trying to keep you from leaving. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whimpered. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised. 

He finally loosened his grip. 

You rolled over onto your side. Laying face to face, you brushed away his tears. 

Even in the dark, Michael thought you were the most beautiful person in the world. Always so kind and loving, he wanted to keep you forever. 

“Come here,” you said, opening your arms to embrace him. He rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. 

“I’ve hurt people, not just the ones from earlier,” Michael admitted, swallowing thickly. “And I think I’m going to keep hurting people.”

Your fingers soothingly scratched his scalp as you held him close. He took in a deep breath, working up the nerve to finally ask the questions that were truly bothering him. 

“Can you still love me?” He asked in a small voice. “Even though I’ve done bad things?”

“I don’t think I could ever stop loving you,” you answered without pause. “It’s a little scary for me to think about, that’s all.”

“You’re scared of me?” He asked, hurt evident in his voice. 

“No, I’m not afraid of you,” you reassured him, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s just that loving someone this much is scary.”

“I love you the same way,” Michael explained. “I’ll never stop loving you, y/n.”

…

The house was unbearably warm.

The heat left you drained, barely able to lift a finger, even though you just woke up. You kicked the sheets off but remained in bed, even that small action left you feeling exhausted. 

You laid there, still, listening to the hoarse caws of the crows that seemed to appear overnight. They lingered around the house, circling it at night. 

“Y/n?” Michael called. You usually didn’t sleep in so late, it was almost the afternoon. 

You smiled weakly at him, “Morning.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just tired,” you stretched your arms over your head on the bed. “And warm.”

Michael didn’t seem bothered by the strange heat that seemed to smother you. The air from the basement all the way to the attic was hot, there was no escaping it. 

“Can you get me some water?” You croaked.  

Michael nodded, heading downstairs and quickly returning to you with a glass of ice water. You shamelessly drained the glass, droplets rolling down your chin and neck. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, handing him the empty glass, before falling back onto your pillow. 

He stood there for a moment, wondering if there was anything else he could do. You looked so miserable, strands of your hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, your nightgown hiked up to cool your legs. 

Going into the bathroom, he prepared a washcloth with cold water. The bed dipped as he sat next to you, tenderly he dabbed the washcloth over your face. You hummed appreciatively, extending your neck as he moved it lower. He stroked the cloth over your collarbone, then down closer to your chest. 

He watched it rise and fall, hypnotically, your skin looked so soft, so tempting. Ben had talked to him about these kinds of feelings, about men and women and romantic love. He had said this was the kind of talk all fathers should have with their sons. He has seen Michael wanting to be closer to you, his desires to feel your skin against his. Ben assured him that it was natural and a completely normal part of growing up. But Ben had also made it clear that there were lines Michael couldn’t cross, lines that if he didn’t follow, he would end up hurting you. 

Michael sighed, pulling his hand away. Folding the wash cloth, he laid it on your forehead before leaving. 

…

Michael headed downstairs when he heard the front door open. You were still in a deep sleep as he tiptoed out of the room. He paused, finding three uninvited guests were standing in the entryway by the staircase. 

“I am in the presence of my Lord,” the man gasped and bowed. The two women behind him followed in suit. 

“Who are you?” Michael asked, tilting his head and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I am Anton LaVey, Black Pope of the Church of Satan,” the man introduced himself, then turned to his colleagues. “And there are my cardinals. I faked my death to prepare for this day.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Michael walked slowly down the steps. “What’s going on here?”

“We followed a dark start from the west,” one of the cardinals explained eagerly. “The signs were impossible to miss: the temperature in this house, a home built over the portal to Hell, and the crows worshiping from above.”

“The omens are complete,” the other one added. “You’re the chosen one.”

“The time has come to remove the scales from your eyes, to show you your true power,” Anton stated.

Michael smiled, full of excitement, “Alright, just make sure you’re quiet, y/n is sleeping.”

…

You woke up to the sound of hail falling on the roof. It frightened you at first. Instead of the typical soothing sounds of rain or hail, this was louder, more violent, like large stones crashing from the sky. 

You wondered if the storm was the source of the strange dreams you had all night, now you could only recall the screams from them. 

Slipping out of bed, you walked to the window drawing the curtains. The night sky was a strange color, dark red clouds hung above the house coupled with a full red moon. You watched the bizarre weather outside, red rain mixed with rock sized hail. The storm seemed to at least alleviate the constant heat in the house.  

Turning around, you noticed Michael’s absence from the bed. Wrapping a white sheet around your shoulders, you wandered downstairs to find him. Reaching the dining room, you found Michael with three strangers wearing black and red cloaks. 

There was blood on the table and floor, but no body. 

Michael beamed at you and offered you his hand, “y/n, I’ve got something to tell you.”

The Antichrist, it should’ve come as more of a shock, but with all the insane things that have happened lately, it made sense. It also should’ve changed how you felt, but it didn’t, Michael was still Michael. While there was no doubting the evil he was capable of, you still saw all the good, all the love. 

How could you hold it against him?

Michael laid there, eyes wide open as you slept beside him. He knew his mother was coming, that she planned on ending his life. 

The woman hadn’t bothered to speak to him, see him, and just like the rest of his supposed family, she was going to hurt him too. Sadly, he was no longer surprised by any of this. 

He could feel her approaching, a knife held tightly in her fist as she prepared to bring it down and end his life. Without having to move a muscle, Michael conjured up flames that ignited around Vivien’s feet. 

Her screams jolted you awake. Another spirit, the one you had briefly seen before, saved her while you tried to stop Michael. 

“She was going to kill me,” he argued. 

You saw the knife discarded on the floor for yourself. This house was no longer a safe place for Michael or yourself. The same day you and Michael left the old mansion. 

…

Living with Ms. Mead wasn’t what you had expected. It was surprisingly wholesome with meals shared at the dining table and family outings every weekend. If it wasn’t for the satanic altar, you’d probably forget that she was a satanist altogether. 

Ms. Mead treated you both well. Welcoming you into her home as if you and Michael were family. At first, you had been worried that she wouldn’t accept having you around, but she was just as warm and friendly with you as she was with Michael. 

“What do you think?” Michael asked as he emerged from the bathroom in a black t-shirt and black jeans. Ms. Mead had taken him shopping for clothes. Michael was excited to show you what they had picked out. 

You sat the nail polish on the nightstand as you sat up, giving Michael your full attention. 

“Black looks good on you,” you approved, looking him up and down. The outfit definitely suited him, much better than his old clothes. 

He smiled, obviously proud of his choices. “What were you doing?” He asked as he joined you on the bed, criss crossing his legs.

“I was just painting my toenails,” you shrugged. 

Michael gently touched your calf, his fingers tracing over your skin down to your ankle, while he admired your freshly painted toes. 

“Want me to paint yours?”

He yanked off his boots and socks, tossing them on the floor and causing you to laugh. You rearranged yourself so you were sitting on your knees. Michael’s pale boney feet rested on your thighs. 

“What color do you want?” You asked. 

“Black.”

He laid back on the bed, feet on the head board as he wiggled his toes while he waited for them to dry. 

“Read to me,” Michael requested in a whiny tone. “Please,” he added quickly as you lifted your brow.

You grabbed the worn book, opening it to where you left off, but before you started reading Michael interrupted you. 

“Here, lay next to me,” he offered, wiggling to the other side of the bed to give you room. 

You stretched out beside him, side to side, and started reading. It didn’t take long before Michael’s head was on stomach and his arm draped over your hips as he cuddled against you. He closed his eyes listening to the sound of your voice as it lulled him to sleep. 

You tucked the bookmark back into the book and sat it on the bed. Absentmindedly you ran your fingers through his hair. 

Over such a short time, he had changed so much, and not just physically, he was acting older, demonstrating maturity and restraint, although he still had his moments like this where he wanted to be held and babied. But, you figured, everyone had moments like this even if they never ask for it. 

You perked up when you noticed Ms. Mead standing in the doorway. How long has she been watching? 

“Let him sleep,” she said softly. 

Carefully you moved Michael and covered him with a blanket, then followed Ms. Mead into the kitchen. She had the tea kettle on the stove. 

“You really do love him, don’t you?” Ms. Mead asked, looking at you curiously. While she had been courteous towards you, she was curious about the true nature of your relationship to Michael. 

You tilted your head, wondering where this was coming from all of a sudden. 

“I’m just surprised,” she explained. “Not many people could accept him for what he is, even more so, someone who isn’t a follower of his father. But I’m glad to know that you truly care for him.” She motioned for you to have a seat at the table, and placed a cup of tea on a little saucer in front of you. 

You thanked her, before gently blowing on the hot cup and taking a sip. 

“He obviously adores you, which is why I allowed you to come with him,” she continued, taking her seat across from you with her own cup. “Guess I just feel protective of him already, wanted to see for myself if you were just stringing him along.”

You laughed slightly and shook your head, “I know what you mean, I was worried about you too. But you treat him just like a mother would, and I know he loves you for it.”

You and Ms. Mead smiled at each other while you finished your cup of tea. Your smile grew wider as a sleepy Michael slowly staggered into the kitchen. 

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “Can we have pancakes for dinner?”

“Of course, dear,” Ms. Mead obliged. 

…

Michael had been arrested, leaving you a complete mess waiting at the station with Ms. Mead. The police 

refused to let you see him no matter how much you begged and pleaded. 

You were sitting in the lobby, staring at the assholes who wouldn’t let you see Michael, when a man dressed in a fine suit with a black hat came in, he strode right past the officers and straight to the holding cells with one of the guards leading the way. 

A few minutes later the well dressed man and Michael were heading directly to the exit. You immediately followed them out. 

You cupped Michael’s cheek, thumb caressing the red swollen mark by his eye. “Did they do that to you?”

“It doesn’t hurt too much,” he reassured you, placing a hand on your waist. 

Ariel cleared his throat, standing next to a black vehicle, “Michael it’s time for us to leave.” His gaze landed on you, a small sneer forming on his lips. 

Michael nodded, opening the car door for you. 

Ariel’s eyes went wide, “I’m afraid she can’t come with us. Our school is exclusively for warlocks.”

“Then I won’t be going,” Michael stated flatly, slamming the car shut.  

Ariel’s jaw dropped, “I saved you… I’m offering to take you to a place where you can flourish… where you can reach your full potential. You’re going to throw that all away for some woman?”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “I’m not leaving her, ever,” he stressed. 

Ariel scowled, grinding his teeth, he was considering using magic to force Michael in the car, but if Michael truly is the Alpha, like he suspects, then it would be suicide. His eyes darted to you, if he attempted to do anything to you, it would be safe to assume that the consequences would be even worse than death. 

“It’s not like you’ll never see her again. A boy’s school just isn’t the right place for a young lady to be,” Ariel reasoned. 

“The only place for her is with me,” Michael said, raising his voice. The two men stared at each other, it was clear that Michael wasn’t going to budge on the matter. 

“Fine!” Ariel relented, yanking the car door open and getting in. It wasn’t going to be easy to get others to go with this foolishness, but he couldn’t afford to let the Alpha slip through his fingers. 

Michael pulled the door open and waited for you to slide into the backseat before he scooted in after you. He placed his hand over yours, possessively, eyes fixated on Ariel as cold anger radiated off of him. 

The school wasn’t what you had expected. The underground structure was large and warm, but despite the size and construction, you couldn’t help but compare it to a cave. Already, you missed fresh air and sunlight as you followed Ariel, Michael still holding your hand for comfort. 

When Ariel introduced Michael to the group, he didn’t say a thing about you, just sort glazed over the fact that you even existed despite the puzzled gazes of the male students and staff. 

After a short tour, you and Michael were led to the room you both would be sharing in. Once inside, Ariel finally addressed you, giving you a few simple rules, as he put it, to follow. 

You were never to wander the school without an escort. You had to keep your distance from the other students and take your meals at different times than everyone else. Finally you had to wear a uniform, it was similar to the boy’s uniform, but instead of slacks, you had a full length skirt. 

Ariel left the two of you to get settled in and gathered the others in his office to explain the situation. 

“So,” John Henry mocked. “Our supposed Alpha, the one who will overthrow The Supreme and lead us to the top, can’t be without his little girlfriend?”

Ariel huffed, “I understand the girl is an inconvenience, but she’s just a minor obstacle. Michael won’t need her now that he’s here with his brothers.”

“Doubt it,” John Henry muttered, taking a quick puff of his cigarette. “Did you see the way he looks at her? She practically walks on water in his eyes.”

“We just need to separate them, wean him off her slowly,” Ariel explained. “Then he’ll discard her.”

“I don’t know,” Behold said, shaking his head, “Love and devotion is a powerful thing.”

John Henry rolled his eyes, “Right, because the 4 of us know what that’s like… none of us have ever cared about anyone but ourselves.”

…

You helped Michael straighten his bow tie, then brushed his hair out of his face. 

“Perfect,” you chirped, taking a step back to admire how handsome he looked in his school uniform. 

He smiled, fixing his lapel before his hands ran down the front of his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Ariel and the others are expecting me,” he started. “But they haven’t told me what we’re doing.”

It’s been only a month since your arrival, but from what you had gathered, Michael took to magic like a duck takes to water. Everyday he surprised you with a new trick or spell. Just the other day he surprised you with a beautiful white rose turning the petals pitch black right before your eyes. 

“I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll be amazing.”

“Wish they’d let me bring you,” he muttered, pouting a little as he looked at his reflection. 

You shook your head, “I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”

Michael brought your hand to his chest, Ariel had been keeping him so busy with classes and studying that he felt like he barely had time for you lately. 

He didn’t appreciate being treated like a fool. He knew what his ‘brothers’ were up to, trying to keep him busy as if he’d just forget about you because he has homework. None of them could ever perceive the depths he’d go for you, hell, not even Michael fully knew how far he’d go to keep you by his side. 

Grudgingly, he released your hand, he didn’t want to have to listen to some lecture about tardiness from Ariel. And knowing Ariel he’d figure out a way to put all the blame on you, while making some snide comment about women and their inability to be punctual. The whole battle of the sexes between the warlocks and the witches was getting old. 

Later that day, Michael returned to you with a bloody nose and his body completely drained of energy. You rose from your seat at the desk as he collapsed on the bed still dressed. 

First, you went to the adjoining bathroom, retrieving a damp washcloth. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you gently dabbed the dried blood from his face. 

“How did the meeting go?” You asked. “What did they want?”

“To evaluate me,” he explained, his eyes half lidded. “I passed,” he smiled weakly. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you said, scooting you to the end of the bed and undoing the buckles on his shoes, before slipping them off his feet.

“Thank you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and snuggling against his pillow. 

…

You watched Michael, his body was completely tense, stockstill, except for the hand that was drawing rapidly without pause. It was like he was in a trance, listening to a voice that you couldn’t hear.

Michael couldn’t let the witches leave. Ariel and the others were useless, unable to convince the council, but Michael could, he would prove to them just how powerful he is. 

He gasped suddenly, taking you by surprise. Looking down, he admired his work, the Hotel Cortez, the gaping mouth of hell. 

Michael turned to face you, “I have to leave, but I won’t be gone long.” He smiled triumphantly, “I found a way to show them I’m the Alpha, that I’m the next Supreme.”

It was easy for him, of course, like taking a casual stroll through the park. One of the benefits of being the Antichrist, he figured, having dominion over hell and all evil places born from it. 

First he rescued Queenie, freeing her from the hotel, then they made a trip to Madison Montgomery’s personal hell. With his proof in tow, he returned to the school. 

Watching Cordelia pass out from the shock brought him more satisfaction than he anticipated, but hearing her admit that he could be the next Supreme was even sweeter. 

He stood there holding his head high with you at his side. While Cordelia addressed the group, sharing her vision. It was ironic that a vision warning her of the end, was the final straw, finally convincing her to allow him to attempt the Seven Wonders. 

“In two weeks' time, at the rise of the blood moon, you will take the test of the Seven Wonders,” she announced, eyes locked with Michael’s. “That is, if you still want to.”

Everyone turned to face him, awaiting his decision. He glanced at you, squeezing your hand tightly before letting it go as he approached Cordelia. 

“I do.”

Myrtle Snow knitted her brow, it hadn’t escaped any of their attention that there was a woman on the side of the warlocks. 

“My dear,” she began, getting your attention. “Why are you here? You’re not a witch, are you?”

“I’m not,” you shook your head with a polite smile. 

“She’s with me,” Michael stated firmly, hands clasped behind his back as his gaze pierced Myrtle’s. 

“Of course, he’s got a girlfriend,” Madison rolled her eyes. 

Cordelia inhaled deeply as she returned to the matter at hand. “No male has ever made the attempt,” she warned, redirecting the conversation to the matter at hand. “And if you succeed, you will be the next Supreme, and it will change everything.”

On the cusp of the blood moon, the warlocks gathered to celebrate Michael. He almost threw a fit when Ariel informed him that you weren’t permitted to attend, adding that attendance for the ceremony was strictly warlocks. 

Ariel’s hands balled into fists as you talked Michael down, convincing him that for this type of occasion it was polite to respect tradition. 

Ariel was displeased that his plan wasn’t working. Michael’s attachment to you was still strong, the same as it was when he first arrived at the school. What good would it be to have an Alpha that bent to the will of a woman?

Michael insisted that tomorrow night you were present for the Seven Wonders, going as far as threatening to not perform if you weren’t there. 

When Ariel finally relented, Michael followed him downstairs for the ceremony. 

John Henry fled after the blessing. The following day when the witches had arrived to observe Michael’s abilities, John Henry still hadn’t returned. None of the other warlocks questioned his absence, instead they were focused on the daunting task at hand, hoping Michael could accomplish what no warlock had ever done before. 

Michael passed each test with ease to the dismay of the witches and to the satisfaction of the warlocks. 

Telekinesis, Concilium, Transmutation, Divination, Pyrokinesis, Vitalum Vitalis… Michael made them look like child’s play. With each challenge Michael impressed you more and more, accomplishing magic that you had never imagined. His eyes would lock with yours and he’d smile triumphantly after each task as you cheered and congratulated him with the rest of the warlocks. 

Descensum was the final test and the most perilous. Michael was the only one who didn’t seem worried about the outcome. 

Unexpectedly, Cordelia added an additional condition, Behold was the first to object, the others soon followed. She requested for Michael to retrieve someone from the depths of hell, someone who failed this exact test.

“That’s impossible. Those who don’t return from Descensum are gone forever,” Behold defended. “Property of the underworld.”

“No other Supreme’s been made to this, ever,” Baldwin added. “This is not only unfair, this is suicide.”

“Enough,” Ariel spoke up with some urgency. “Cordelia, I need a word.” The Supreme and the Grand Chancellor retreated into his office for a private discussion. 

You tugged on Michael’s sleeve to get his attention, then guided him to the corner furthest from everyone in the room. 

“What is it?” He asked gently, immediately noting the anxious look on your face. 

“This sounds dangerous,” you started, fingers clutching his jacket sleeve tighter. “And now they’re making it even harder…”

He stepped closer to you, his hands cupping your face. “I can do this.”

“But what if you get trapped there like that other girl,” you whispered. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“That’s not going to happen. I’m stronger than she was,” Michael assured you. “Trust me.” He dried your eyes.

Taking your hand in his, he led you towards Ariel’s office. The doors opened revealing Cordelia and Ariel inside. 

“It’s okay,” Michael smiled. “I’ll get your friend back.”

Returning to the music room, Michael prepared for the final test. 

“Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum it salutaret inferi,” he chanted laying on the floor. You were right beside him, on your knees, while everyone else stood in a circle around him. “Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum it salutaret inferi, Descensum.”

You stayed seated by Michael as his eyes closed and his spirit descended to the underworld. The others got comfortable, finding seats and idly conversing with each other. 

Time seemed to slow down as you waited with bated breath for him to come back. The thought of losing him scared you more than anything ever had. Your whole life revolved around him.

Michael gasped, drawing in a deep breath as he sat up immediately. You pulled him into a tight hug, relieved that he returned to you. His energy obviously spent as he rested against you like a rag doll. 

The others gathered around. The witches automatically taking note that Misty hadn’t returned. 

“Well that’s that,” Madison said, crossing her arms. “C'est la vie.”

“This was not a fair test,” Ariel objected, concerned more with having lost the opportunity for a male Supreme than the harrowing task Michael had just been through. 

“What happened?” Cordelia asked. “Where’s Misty?”

Michael gave her a sideways glance, his face partially resting on your shoulder as you held him close, he looked at her disinterested before he buried the rest of his face in the crook of your neck.

“Isn’t it obvious, darling?” Myrtle spoke up. “She’s right where she’s been.”

Suddenly dust manifested in the form of a woman’s body. Cordelia fell to her knees as Misty was revived. 

As the witches tended to their sister, the warlocks helped a weary Michael off the floor. He leaned against the table for support, still catching his breath from his recent excursion to hell. He reached out for you, placing his hands on your waist, as you stood between his legs with his head on your stomach, he drew comfort just by being near you. 

Michael straightened up as he felt Misty’s eyes upon him, his hands still lingering on your waist. His jaw tensed, noting her fearful expression. But before Misty could say anything, Cordelia stumbled back and her nose began to bleed.

“Oh my God,” Cordelia whispered. 

Misty went straight to her side, “What’s happening?”

“What always happens when a new Supreme rises,” Ariel interjected. 

“The old one fades away,” Behold explained. 

“We demand what’s ours,” Ariel added. 

Myrtle scoffed, “You’re a pompous ass.”

Michael stepped forward, an air of confidence and power about him. “I did everything you asked,” he started. “I descended into Hell, and I did what you couldn’t. I brought her back. I passed the Seven Wonders. Unless you want to add another one?” He challenged. 

“No,” Cordelia answered. “There can be no doubt. You are the next Supreme.” She collapsed to the ground, losing consciousness again. 

…

The staff and other students were beaming with pride over the accomplishments of their brother. Michael was elated, he was one step closer to fulfilling his purpose. 

In celebration of the return of Misty Day and the rise of a new Supreme, everyone gathered in the music room. While you were on your way to join the rest, Ariel stopped you. 

“Y/n,” He called. 

“Grand Chancellor,” you greeted.

He smiled, but it was obviously forced just like the tone of his voice, too pleasant. “I was hoping to have a moment of your time.”

You raised your brow, “I suppose.”

“We’re all so proud of Michael and what he has achieved,” he began, hands clasped in front him. “It’s truly a major turning point for our kind, to finally rise out of the shadow of our counterparts, the witches.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” you muttered, hearing music play from the room and a woman singing.

“It has been such a struggle to get to this point,” he stressed.“It would be a great setback for warlocks should Michael be unable to focus on his duties as Supreme.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” you took a step back.

Ariel sighed, losing his patience, “You are a distraction. You are not the person Micheal needs to concern himself with, you’re not a warlock or a witch, you’re just some girl.”

“But I-“

“Don’t you see,” he interrupted you, getting heated. “He’s with his people now, he no longer needs you.”

You closed your mouth as his words sunk in. Maybe he was right. You hated to admit it, even just to yourself, but it was as if he was speaking your own fears out loud. You weren’t sure how you fit into all this, and for the last couple of months, you worried that Michael truly didn’t need you. 

Standing on the interior balcony, Michael’s eyes narrowed as he watched Ariel enter the music room late. Michael had been waiting for you to join him but you were nowhere in sight.

The two warlocks nodded in acknowledgement at each other as Michael waited a few moments longer, he could care less about the performance taking place below. Concerned about your tardiness, he went to find you. Ariel shook his head in disappointment as he watched Michael leave. 

Michael headed upstairs and entered your room. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” you answered, taking a seat on the bed and mustering a smile for Michael.

He could tell you were lying, you were visibly upset and on the verge of tears. “Don’t lie to me,” he said firmly. 

“Michael,” you started, your eyes finally meeting his. Looking up at him you couldn’t help but think of all the things he had accomplished lately, developing his powers, passing all these tests, he was doing so many great things, so why were you here? “Do you still need me?”

“Of course, I do,” he responded without pause. He then shook his head. “Even if I didn’t need you, I want you.”  He wondered where all this was coming from, was this because he wasn’t spending enough time with you? Was Ariel’s idiotic plan affecting you?

Michael sat across from you at the desk. “Are you thinking about leaving?” 

“I don’t want to leave,” you said softly. “But are you sure I’m not distracting you?���

“Is this Ariel’s doing? Did he say something to you?” Michael pursed his lips, jaw clenched. The Grand Chancellor was really pushing his luck. Michael figured it might be necessary to remind him who was the Alpha, the future Supreme.

Getting to his feet, his brow lowered as he thought about what to do. His hands curled into fists that were shaking out of anger. 

“Michael,” you pleaded, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards you. “Stop, please.”

“He wants you to leave me,” he snapped angrily. “I won’t let that happen.”

You rushed after Michael as stormed out of the room. The sliding black doors of Ariel’s office slammed open with a flick of Michael’s wrist. 

“Michael-“ Ariel started but was immediately flung to the wall. 

Your eyes widened, watching as Ariel’s hands grasped at his neck, his nails puncturing his skin as he scratched while desperately gasping for air. His legs were kicking and flailing about as he was being suffocated. 

“Michael,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours. “Micheal, stop,” you begged.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him. “And Ariel finally understands.” You looked at Ariel who managed to nod. “See,” you said, rubbing his arm. “You got your point across.”

Ariel fell to the floor, landing on his hand and knees, panting. 

“What’s going on in here?” Behold questioned wandering into the office. 

“Nothing,” Ariel croaked, slowly rising to his feet.

Behold didn’t look convinced. He was figuring out that Michael couldn’t be trusted, wasn’t what he had presented himself to be. John Henry was missing and the witches had their suspicions as well. 

“Michael lost control, just for a moment, he’s been under a lot of stress,” you explained calmly. “He’s due for a break.”

Behold lifted his brow, Michael just looked straight up pissed in his opinion. “Alright,” he muttered, the last thing he needed was for Michael to turn that anger on him. He stood there watching as you and Michael left, before asking Ariel if needed anything. 

Returning to your room, Micheal immediately embraced you, hugging you from behind as he buried his face into your hair. You two stood there for several minutes, his arms holding you firmly in place. 

“I should speak to my father,” he murmured finally. 

You nodded. 

Michael’s hold loosened, “I should go alone.” He sighed, touching your hair gently. “I won’t be gone long.”

…

When the witches, Bubbles and Myrtle, arrived, you were tasked with entertaining them until Ariel and Bladwin returned. They had no trouble making themselves at home while you served champagne and Myrtle played the theremin. 

When Ariel and Baldwin entered the music room, the two witches insisted that you join them and the warlocks for the dinner they had prepared. 

“Bubbles, you’ve exceeded your promise,” Ariel complimented. “This is a meal fit for a Supreme.”

She chuckled, “Oh, thank you so much.”

It truly was quite a spread, platters of food you probably couldn’t even pronounce, sat on the table presented in a most lavish way. It seemed excessive that there was so much food for just 5 people. 

“Where is our dear Michael?” Myrtle questioned looking at you. “I was hoping he could join us.”

“In the wilderness,” Baldwin answered for you, with a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Literally. Michael has decided that he needs to be completely alone.”

“I’m surprised you’re not with him dear,” Myrtle stated, her eyes still on you. “The two of you seemed attached at the hip.” 

You could feel Ariel watching you closely. “He just needed some time to himself,” you shrugged with a smile. 

“Cordelia had a similar awakening,” she shared with you, before offering Ariel more wine. 

You listened attentively to Myrtle’s story about the amazing little shop in Madrid where she attained the bottle of wine. You didn’t know much about wine, but from what you gathered from her story, this was most likely the nicest and most expensive wine you’d ever try in your life. 

“This has been such a delight,” Myrtle announced. “I knew, if we could dine together, we could find commonality and, dare I say, friendship.”

“Oh, my. It’s getting late,” she added with a slight yawn.

“Oh. It is.” Ariel agreed, laughing weakly. “Very late. But I feel like we’ve finally gotten to know each other.”

“Oh, don’t bother,” Bubbles said, gesturing to the full table. “We’ll clear everything up.”

You offered to stay and lend a hand with cleaning to the surprise of Bubbles and Myrtle. How a kind girl like yourself wound up with someone like Michael, seemed like such a cruel fate. 

During dinner, Bubbles had already determined that you were innocent. You weren’t involved with John Henry’s death or the plot to overthrow their coven and kill the witches. Seemed that Michael kept you out of all the seediness and corruption happening around you. 

“Thanks again for dinner,” you said, clearing the plates from the table. “You really are a fantastic chef.”

“I’m a woman of many talents,” Bubbles boasted. 

“How did you become involved with our future Supreme?” Myrtle inquired, taking a sip of her glass of wine. 

“I’ve known him for a long time,” You answered vaguely, but Bubbles could see right through you, she could see directly to the feelings you harbored for Michael. 

They watched as you carried the dishes into the kitchen. Bubbles sighed, “Poor girl’s only crime is falling for the bad guy.”

“Suppose we can’t hold it against her,” Myrtle commented. “We've all been there at some point or another.”

Bubbles chuckled, “You’re right, but few can say they’re in love with the devil himself.”

“It’s terribly romantic, isn’t it?” Myrtle mused, tilting her head. She sighed, “Well, what else did you hear?”

“They murdered one of their own,” Bubbles answered in a serious tone. “And now they mean to murder all of us.” 

“Well, it’s perfectly clear,” Myrtle continued, swirling her wine glass. “It’s kill or be killed.”

…

“Ariel Augustus. Baldwin Pennypacker. For the murder of your fellow warlock, John Henry Moore, and conspiring to commit treason against this coven, I, Cordelia Goode, on behalf of this council, sentence you to death by fire.”

The coven guards doused Ariel and Baldwin in gasoline.

“Our people have long stood by an agreement that no witch may kill a condemned warlock,” Cordelia added. “Only your brother may light the flame. I do not intend to break that tradition today.”

John Henry emerged to the surprise of Ariel and Baldwin, gracefully, striding between the stakes to join the witches at Cordelia’s side. 

He scanned the area, eyes moving from stake to stake. He furrowed his brow, “Where’s his girlfriend?” He turned to Cordelia, “We need to destroy her. It’s the only way we can really hurt him.”

“We’re not burning an innocent girl on the stake,” Cordelia defended. “She wasn’t involved in your murder, Bubbles verified that already.”

John Henry shook his head, they were all blind to the facts, he didn’t want to kill her, but he could see it just like he could see what Michael truly was. “She’s his weakness…” he argued. “I’ve seen how he is with her, he’d fall apart.”

“No,” Cordelia stated firmly. 

John Henry tsked, snatching one of the gasoline cans, dumping the contents all over Ms. Mead. 

“Any last words?” He asked, returning to Cordelia’s side as he faced his brothers and murderer. “Ah, right,” he teased, motioning to his mouth. 

“You think death is a punishment?” Ms. Mead shouted. “I do not fear the fire. It cleanses me, as it will cleanse this world. I’ve seen the end. I bear witness to the darkness.” 

She looked up to the blue sky, “Father! Take me in your arms. Your kingdom is nigh.”

John Henry and Cordelia shared a look. She nodded to him signaling that it was time. With a wave of his hand, John Henry ignited the torches. The guards, then, set the lit torches at the feet of the condemned. In a matter of seconds flames engulfed Ariel, Baldwin, and Ms. Mead. 

…

Michael’s hand cautiously reached out towards the last corpse, after he identified the first two as Ariel and Baldwin. He stumbled backwards, hands shaking, as he saw his Ms. Mead being burned alive. 

An emotional and raw scream erupted from him, as pain and sadness filled him. With a hand over his chest, he wailed, it felt as if he couldn’t get any oxygen to his lungs and like his heart was being constricted by a snake, its tail coiling tightly around it as if it was a weak little mouse.

“It’s over,” Cordelia said, appearing behind him. “We know who you are.”

Michael turned to face her. 

“Your allies are all dead,” she announced. “You failed.”

“I’ve already proven that I can defy death. I’m just gonna bring her back,” Michael retorted. “And when I do, my Ms. Mead will stand by me as we watch you die.”

“You can certainly go to Hell, but you won’t find her there,” Cordelia warned. 

“What have you done?” 

She explained that Ms. Mead’s soul was hidden away and that the spell was one only she could break. As Michael realized that he’d never see Ms. Mead again, he dropped to his hands and knees. 

“You’re alone,” she added.

“I’m never alone. I have y/n and I have my father,” he snapped. 

“That poor girl deserves better,” Cordelia said coldly. She took several steps toward Michael. “And where is your father? Why did he let this happen?”

Michael looked up at her as she knelt down. 

“You don’t have to follow this path your father laid out for you. You can write your own destiny. You can still turn away. There’s humanity in you. I see it,” she stood back up and offered Michael her hand. “If you come with me, maybe we can find it. Together.”

He accepted her hand, but aggressively moved closer, his eyes burning with hatred towards the witch. “Somehow, some way, I am gonna bring her back. And then I’m gonna kill every last one of you.” 

As the threat left his lips. A thought crossed Cordelia’s mind and images flashed in Michael’s head. His eyes widened, staring at Cordelia in disbelief. 

The witches had revived John Henry, back from the dead, and he and Behold were returning to the school. Michael’s hands began to tremble, releasing Cordelia’s hand, as he could hear the words John Henry had spoken to her during the execution. John Henry had made threats towards you, expressed that he wanted to dispose of you to hurt Michael, to stop him. 

Michael made up his mind at that moment, he wouldn’t allow John Henry to have the opportunity, he’d kill them all to protect you. He couldn’t believe they’d stoop so low, would the witches be the next to try?

Without time to waste, Michael left towards the school. 

He sat there panting, the lifeless corpses of his brothers laying all around him. Michael had no one except for you, he had no Ms. Mead to guide him, he had no support with his magic anymore, no followers. And the witches were still a threat. 

He felt like he was crumbling beneath the weight of it all, but he had to make sure you were safe. He may have been able to keep you safe and massacre the warlocks, but what if the witches went after you next?

Taking in a deep breath, Michael stared up at the staircase towards the direction of your room. He would do anything to keep you safe. 

Rising to his feet, he slowly made his way to you. 

“Michael?” You asked, sitting up on the bed as he entered the room.

He wished that he could just crawl into bed next to you. But there was so much that needed to be done. He had to kill the witches, avenge Ms. Mead, and fulfill his purpose. 

He crouched down beside the bed in front of you. “The witches, they killed Ms. Mead,” he said quietly, voice hoarse from screaming. 

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, leaning down to embrace him. 

Michael placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling away from you a bit, he wanted to get a better look at you. He stared at your face, committing every detail to memory. 

“I need to put you under a spell,” Michael started to explain. “I have to hide you from anyone who’d want to hurt you.”

You furrowed your brow as his words sunk in. He was going to leave you behind. Your lips quivered as you started to cry. 

“Who’s… who's going to take care of you?” You hiccuped, cupping his face, your thumbs gently wiping the tears from the apple of his cheeks. 

Picturing Michael alone, without anyone to turn to, no one to make sure he was okay, was literally breaking your heart. You couldn’t leave him, you couldn’t let him do this. You had promised to stay with him forever. 

He placed his hands over yours. “I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to put on a brave face. “But I can’t lose you too, I can't… you're all that I have left.”

Your shoulders shook as you cried harder. 

“I’m going to take care of you this time,” Michael promised. “I’ll figure it out and then we’ll never have to be apart. You’ll be at my side forever.”

Micheal closed the distance between you and him, his lips finding yours with ease. His first real kiss was an emotional kiss goodbye, one in which he desperately wanted to convey his devotion for you. Your eyes fluttered shut, his hands squeezed yours tighter, you pressed your lips to his tenderly, returning the kiss. 

He casted his spell before pulling away, and watched as you fell into a deep sleep like a princess in a fairy tale. As an extra precaution he wiped your memories as well. 

***Present***

“It’s alright,” Michael comforted, tucking your head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around you.

It was a lot to take in at once, an entire lifetime coming back to you in a matter of seconds. Michael waited patiently, hand drawing circles on back, as you composed yourself. Having you back made him feel whole again, the one constant in his life. He was never letting go of you again. 

“What is it?” He asked as you sat up and cupped his cheek. 

“You’ve changed,” you whispered, gazing at him. He looked older, more mature and refined, his long golden hair somehow made him even more handsome than you remembered. He now exuded confidence that almost bordered on conceitedness. 

He lifted his brow, “Have I?”

You nodded, causing him to smirk, you were always so honest. 

“In what ways?” He teased, titling his head, and holding your hand to his face. “Am I more attractive now?”

You shook your head, laughing lightly, “Not sure how you managed it, but yes you’re more handsome than I remember.”

“So,” he murmured lowly. “You like the new me?” Michael turned his head and kissed the palm of your hand. “Tell me,” he said against your skin. 

“Didn’t we have this conversation earlier?” You questioned. 

“But that was before you remembered,” he challenged, looking at you from the corner of his eye. 

“My answer is still the same, everything, I like everything about you.” 

“I believe you,” He closed his eyes, inhaling a deep breath, and then opening them again. He examined you for a moment, just like before it was as if he could see right through you. 

“You haven’t changed,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s comforting.” His lips tickled your fingertips as he returned your hand to you. 

Michael may not have the typical image of home as most, but he suspected that being reunited with you, is what it felt like to come back home. 

He leaned forward, hands firmly on your thighs, as his lips lightly grazed against yours. You felt the side of his nose caress yours, your hands slowly raised up from your lap and clung to him. 

Suddenly he groaned in frustration as the bedroom door opened. 

“Ladies, I’m a little busy right now,” Michael muttered, breaking the kiss as he glanced at Ms. Venable and Ms. Mead who entered the room uninvited. 

Ms. Venable gave you a cold look, she couldn’t say she was surprised to see you here. She long had her suspicions, this only confirmed them. “This won’t take long,” She addressed Michael, walking further into the room. 

Michael sighed, exasperatedly, his touch leaving your form as he straightened up and turned his chair to give Ms. Venable his attention. “What’s this?”

“We’re making the selections now, Mr. Langdon,” Ms. Venable stated, standing tall across from Michael. “And I’m afraid that neither of you made the cut.”

Michael bursted out laughing. “I’m sorry, I wanted to let you have your moment, but I just couldn’t hold it in,” he gestured to himself. 

“You think this is funny?” Ms. Venable pressed, obviously unamused. 

“I think I’m impressed, Ms. Venable,” Michael 

“I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

Gracefully, Michael rose to his feet. “You passed the test. You’re perfect for The Sanctuary.”

“Mrs. Mead,” Ms. Venable ordered. 

You scrambled off the bed, moving in front of Michael, the moment Ms. Mead drew the gun out from her jacket. You didn’t understand what was going on, or why Ms. Mead was following Ms. Venable’s orders. 

Michael looked at you fondly, with a slightly amused expression. His sweet y/n ready to protect him, to defend him, even knowing that he could literally kill people with a snap of his fingers. 

Of course, you weren’t in any real danger. He knew Ms. Mead would never hurt you, just like she was programmed to never hurt him. He placed his hands on your shoulders. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” he warned Ms. Venable before glancing towards Ms. Mead and giving her a silent command.

“Ms. Mead,” Ms. Venable repeated, her tone irritated as she turned to face her co-conspirator. 

Ms. Mead, with some unwillingness by the look of her face, went from pointing the gun at Michael to directing it toward Ms. Venable. Without hesitation, Ms. Mead fired. 

You flinched at the sound of the gunshot, drawing back against Michael, who reassuringly squeezed your shoulders while smirking with satisfaction over what just transpired. 

Ms. Venable dropped to the floor gasping as she started to bleed out from the wound in her chest. 

Michael’s hands slid down your arms, walking around you towards Ms. Venable.

“I don’t know why I did that,” Ms. Mead questioned, sadness laced in her voice. “I was always loyal to her.”

“It’s all right,” Michael spoke calmly, crouching down, his arms resting on his knees as he watched Ms. Venable die. “You were obeying commands, like you’re programmed to do,” he explained. “My commands.”

You knitted your brows together finally piecing together what was going on. You had been so invested on your and Michael’s reunion, that you hadn’t ask how he was able to revive Ms. Mead. 

“Did you enjoy executing the poison apples plan as much as I enjoyed coming up with it?” Michael asked Ms. Mead, standing back up. 

“You wanted everyone dead?”

“I’ve never been a fan of getting my hands dirty,” he reasoned. “Learned that from my father.”

Ms. Mead’s lips trembled as she processed all the new information and her grief. 

“Always more fun to entice men and women to do dirty deeds. Confirms what I’ve always believed,” Michael mused.

“What do you believe?”

“That all people, if given the right pressures or stimulus, are evil motherfuckers,” he declared. “All except for y/n, of course,” he chuckled, looking at you before returning his attention to Ms. Mead.

“I’m having trouble with this,” she shook her head. “I know I’m just a machine.”

“Never say that,” he said forcefully. “You’re not just a machine. Not to me. When I tasked The Cooperative’s R&D department to have you constructed, I gave them a prototype to model.”

“A prototype?” She asked, hanging on to each and every word Michael said. 

“Someone from my childhood,” he shared, approaching her slowly. “Someone very dear to me.”

Her expression changed as realization struck her. “The beautiful boy.”

“That was me,” Michael answered, his eyes glossy as he held back tears. “But I had to keep the most important part of you hidden from your mind, just like I had to with y/n.”

“Why?”

“To protect you and the plan,” he said. “But now it’s time to remember it all.“ His eyes flickered to the ground for a brief moment, head shaking slightly as he continued to speak. 

“I lost you and I couldn’t bear it. And after that, I had to hide y/n to keep her safe.” His heart ached recalling all the pain, misery, loneliness he felt after losing the only people who loved him. “I can’t imagine a new world without you both by my side.”

Her eyes darted to you, “So that’s why I felt connected to you, like I needed to watch over you.”

You smiled at her and nodded, “You’ve always been good to me.”

Michael embraced Ms. Mead tightly. He finally had the only people who mattered back. The only people who ever showed him love and kindness. The rest of the world could burn now. 

Pulling back, Michael smiled at you and offered you his hand. His thumb caressed your knuckles lovingly while his other arm lingered around Ms. Mead. “You both are the only people I never stopped trusting or loving.” 

His eyes narrowed as he noticed the blood splattered on your dress. “There’s a dress for you in the armoire,” he motioned towards it. “Go change, I’ll catch Ms. Mead up on things.”

In the adjoining bathroom, you stripped out of your purple dress, letting it fall to the floor. Looking at your reflection, you fixed your face, wiping away the streaks of mascara from under your eyes. 

The dress was more contemporary than the purple attire you had grown accustomed to. The black fabric was smooth and luxurious. Pulling it on, it fit you like a glove, hugging the curves of your hips and thighs.

You frowned as you found that you couldn’t reach the zipper on the back. You cleared your throat as you emerged from the bathroom. “I can’t zip it up.” 

Michael strode towards you and stood behind you, his fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of your back as they traveled down to the zipper. Taking his time he pulled it up. 

His eyes traveled up and down your figure as he admired the dress on you, “A perfect fit.”

Michael tensed suddenly, eyes darting to the side, standing still as if waiting for something to happen. 

“What is it?” Ms. Mead asked. 

“I sense a powerful presence,” he responded, eyes shifting as he concentrated on whoever just arrived. 

“What do you mean? Everyone’s dead,” she said, looking concerned. 

“Not anymore,” Michael answered. He extended his hand out towards you, fingers curling around your palm. “Let’s greet our guests.”

Ending 1

Ending 2

[luimagines]

Can I please ask for the chain with a s/o from their timeliness meeting the other links please? I just think that they all deserve a special somebody! Also happy anniversary!!

That sounds adorable! Of course you can! I hope I understand what you mean by this.   ^.^*

Masterlist

Part one will include Hyrule, Wind and Sky

Content under the cut!

Hyrule

It was a lull in the routine that day.

Hyrule was beginning to suspect that something was about to jump around the corner to shake things up but there was no way he prove his suspicions to anyone other than the Veteran, who was just arguably more paranoid than he was.

He hummed and kicked a rock down the road. Would it be too much to make it a bit more noticeable that they were traveling together? Just to get the attack over with.

Nothing comes out to ambush them. The path is just as silent as ever.

A scream rips through the air and Hyrule takes off running toward the sound. His adrenaline spikes, more so with the knowledge that he was correct at the end of the day.

By the time he reaches the source of the sound the others have half way taken care of the problem. But there’s one thing Hyrule didn’t account for.

His blood freezes at the sight of you and b-lines toward you. His attention is no longer on the monster. The others can handle it just fine he’s sure. Instead he sprints with all he has in your direction, picking you up and taking you out of the line of fire without a second thought.

“Link!” You cry with delight and hang onto him like a life line. “I found you!”

Hyrule jumps behind a boulder and his life spell explodes from his palms. The spell glows against you beautifully. In other circumstance, Hyrule would have paused to admire it. But the adrenaline makes it hard for him to focus on the finer details.

The spell only dances over your form. It sinks down in a patch by your elbow and a cut on your leg, but you are otherwise unharmed.

“What are you doing here?” Hyrule pulls your close, hugging you as tight as he can. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. Hi, hello, how have you been?”

You laugh and shake your head, hugging him back just as fiercely.  “Better now that I’ve seen you again.”

Hyrule relaxes. He can feel the strength of your heartbeat respond to his own with the passion he holds you with. You’re ok. You’re not even injured. And he has you in his arms again. “This isn’t safe...”

“I know.” You sigh. “I don’t even know how I got here. That monster was huge.”

“They’ve been getting worse.” Hyrule admits. “That’s why I’m here.”

You nod, letting yourself be held by him. It wasn’t everyday that you got to hold him as closely and as intimately as you wanted. You turn and lean into him more. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Hyrule says with a small breathless laugh. “I still can’t believe that you’re here-”

“Hey Traveler!” He hears Wild call out. “Where’d you go with that person? Are they dead?”

Hyrule’s grip tightens on you only marginally before he relaxes again. “They’re fine!” He calls over your head. “All healed up!”

Hyrule pulls away, albeit regrettably. 

“Link, who are they?” You follow him with little resistance. “Why do they call you Traveler?”

“It’s a long story.” Hyrule takes your hand. “But they’re good friends of mine now and we’re all going to fix this problem...We’re also all named Link, so the name thing is a patch job at best because-”

“You stink at naming things.” You snort.

“If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t my idea. Nor did I name myself.” Hyrule deadpans.

“Well I’d love to meet them.”

“Good. Because they’d badger me endlessly if you didn’t.” Hyrule tugs you along, keeping you close. “I apologize in advance for anything they might say or do.”

“They can’t be that bad if you trust them.”

“I admire your trust in me, but believe me, that sentence is unfounded.” 

Wind (best friend/crush but no established relationship)

“Do you have any one you like, Sailor?”

“I like a lot of people.” Wind tilts his head at the Captain. “I have a lot of friends.”

“I- no. That’s not what I mean.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Although, I’m glad to hear it.”

Wind takes another moment to think about the other’s question. It was simple enough in nature, but he was certain that he answered it the correct way. “You might have to be more specific then. I mean, I like you guys and I like my family, my sister. There’s Tetra and the pirate crew. I like those guys and I like Linebeck too.”

Warrior nods along, happy to get the Sailor talking anyway. But this isn’t what he was talking about. Vaguely, there’s a voice in his head that this something he should ask the boy, but at the same time, he doesn’t think there’s any harm in it. Clearly, he didn’t understand it the first time around, so perhaps it’s non applicable to the young hero.

Still, he’s inclined to ask his questions differently. It’s fun to be nosey. “Is there someone you like more than anyone else?”

“Yeah.” A new voice speaks from their right. “Me.”

Wind gasp, yelling your name out excitedly before he sprits towards you. You both collide with enough force that the sound leaves the nearby heroes to wince, even if they’re relived to know that Wind knows you. And clearly trusts you enough to catch him is he all but threw himself towards you.

Wind begins to jump on his toes, hugging you with obvious enthusiasm. “I can’t believe you’re here! I was wondering when I would see you again!...Why are you here?”

Wind’s smile drops and he pulls away from your suddenly. Within the next second, he’s searching all over you for injuries of any kind. He needs to prove to himself that there’s nothing wrong. Because now you’re far from home... with questionable means of travel. Wind needs to make sure that everything is ok before he can continue on with his conversation.

The rushed check up leave you giggling and shaking your head. You stick your hands out at the sides and spin slowly to same him the work of going around you. “I’m fine, worrywart. I’m glad to see you’re ok too... Maybe.... Is that a new scar?” 

You point just below his chin and your eyebrows furrow when you look closer. It’s faint to be sure, but you were certain that it wasn’t there when he left the island.

Wind grins, looking proud of himself. Yes, the scar is new and there’s is clearly a story attached to it. Oh well, it’s not all that bad anyway. You grin. “Tell me about it later, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Warrior clears his throat and smiles back towards the duo. “Mind introducing us, Sailor?”

Wind perks up and takes your hand, holding you close simply because he can. “This is my best friend in the whole wide world! Hey-” He says your name, tugging on your hand as he gestures with the other. “These are the guys I’ve been traveling with. The ones that have my name.”

Your eyes widen and you nod in understanding. “Who’s this one then?”

“The Captain.”

“From that weird portal battle you had?” You whisper non too quietly.

Wind nods back and leans closer. “Don’t listen to him too much. He’s just as weird as before.”

“Hey!” Warrior’s metaphorical feathers puff as their ruffled from the idea. “I’m not that bad!″

Wind sticks his tongue out and turns to you again. “You have the meet the Veteran. He’s got more stories than me! This way!”

Warrior sticks his own tongue out, not bothering to hide his skin deep annoyance. He didn’t even get to question your answer about being Wind’s favorite. However, seeing the reaction your presence brought onto the boy’s face, Warrior smiles to himself. It’s just as well. It’s not like you were proven wrong anyway.

Sky

He felt as if the whole group walked ten extra miles today without any form of rest. No one was going to give it to him until they made camp.

When that moment arrived he was quick to collapsed next to the nearest tree and rest his head against it. His whole body seemed to be yelling at him.

Suddenly noises were all around him. None of which were threatening. They were just... loud... and confused.

“Link?” A familiar voice calls out softly. It wipes away any exhaustion he was feeling in that moment.

His eyes shoot open and he’s looking for where the source of the voice was.

He sees you and scrambles to his feet. His body is not happy about it. His legs nearly give out, sending Sky to catch himself on one knee before he pushes himself up again. Sky runs. And he hates running.

Luckily, you run towards him too. The speed and force in which you collide with each other sends a thick thump through the camp grounds.

 “I was wondering which Link they meant.” Wild whispers to himself, running his wrist over his forehead.

“What are you doing here?” Sky asks first, breathlessly placing little butterfly kisses over your face.

You laugh, unable to stop him. “I don’t know. I opened the door, left the house, turned around and found myself nearby. I’m glad I found your first.”

Sky nods, laughing breathlessly himself. “I’m happy for it.”

He dips his face into the crook of your neck and speaks softly, so that only you can hear it. “I missed you. There hasn’t been a day where you weren’t on my mind.”

“Oh for Din’s sake.” Sky hears Legend roll his eyes. “The rest of us are trying to eat and rest. Don’t you dare start that here.”

Sky snorts, placing another delicate kiss on the skin before him, reveling in the way you tense to hide the hitch in your breath. “I would gladly take you home. Where is it?”

“NOT WHAT I MEANT!”

You laugh some more. It’s a musical and magical sound. Sky prides himself in being able to invoke it so quickly out of you. You smack his chest slightly and he backs off only slightly.

“So I guess these are your friends from your letters.” You turn around and look at the group. Sky tightens his hold around you once more, letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

“Yes.” Sky answers. “I wonder if you can tell who’s who from interaction alone.”

“That’s almost impossible.” You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if that challenge is even feasible. “Wouldn’t introduction be easier?”

Sky smirks. “Men, this is the love of my life. Beloved, meet Link.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Well we’re honored to meet you.” Time sticks out his hand a proud smile on his face. He seems to be reminiscing about something. “The Knight of Skyloft, speaks highly of you.”

“And only of you.” Legend pretends to be annoyed, but he seems to have softened. “He’s a good one. Treat him right.”

“As if I’ll ever give him up.” You reply, turning to nudge your head against the man that holds you tenderly.

Sky smiles and closes his eyes. It feels good to hold you again. He doesn’t want to think about what this means. He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth (a phrase he learned from the Rancher). For now, he’ll enjoy taking you in after so long. He’s missed you.

Part 2

[harryforvogue]

hello welcome back to me writing out some ideas that will never become actual full stories. this was super fun because i've never written the bodyguard trope. i won't be writing more for this, but isn't this so fun???? hope you like it! (if the French is wrong, that's on me) 2.5k idk

***

France, 1843.

The tavern will do for the night.

It’s inconspicuous, a perfect hiding spot. In fact, now that she’s been in her room for the past three hours, it’s safe to say that if anyone were to come looking for her, they’d be long gone by now. That’s why she changes into a fresh outfit (provided by the very nice hostess who got teary eyed by the story she made up.) She’s now in a simple dress, much better than the other outfit. After all, it would be weird to be traipsing around in a wedding dress.

Her family went all in for the dress too. She’s going to hold on to it, see how much money she can make from it.

She comes down the stairs quietly. At nearly sunset time, the bar is starting to get crowded. She can definitely get mixed into the wave of people, giving her more cover. She expected several people to come in around this time anyways. Despite it being 4 in the afternoon, the winter allows for the sun to retreat earlier. The visibility outside must be terrible, and with a snowstorm on top of that, the only people coming into the tavern will be loyal customers and those sheltering from the weather. 

Of course, her family is too highly opinionated to stop at a measly little tavern like this.

She skips off the last step and looks around. She's picked an excellent spot.

When she sits at the bar, it takes only a minute for the bartender to catch her eye. “Une bière.”

He retreats to pour her drink, and then slides it across the wooden bar.

She catches it and smiles sweetly at him. Then relaxes into her seat and listens to the music.

What a disaster of a day. The whole town will be talking about it tomorrow: the runaway bride. Well, maybe not this town. No, this place is smaller, and less wealthy. They care little for the problems of the rich folk.

The minutes pass by in silence and peace. That is, until the bartender comes by with another drink that she definitely did not ask for.

“Ça vient du monsieur,” the man says.

She looks over to where he's gesturing.

Sitting at the end of the bar is a man she’s all too familiar with. His curls aren’t wet with snow, nor are his clothes, which suggest he’s been here for a long time. Has he been waiting for her out? Did he follow her the moment she left the chapel, or was it that his guess was just correct? Pure luck maybe. Regardless of the how, what matters is that he knows where she is, and he answers her scowl with a smile of his own, lifting his glass in the air as if to toast her attempts at escaping him.

“Merci,” she grits to the bartender. She turns back to her drink, trying to come up with a plausible story before Harry makes his way over. The thirty seconds it takes Harry to show up, though, is simply not enough. 

He sits on the vacant seat beside her. He slides his mug over and lightly taps hers. “Fear not,” he says in English, grinning with his dimples on full display, “I’m here alone.”

Harry’s been her guard for several years. He’s young, barely 3 or 4 years older than her. He rarely speaks with her, but he’s always there when she goes out, even when she’s with her fiancé. He was posted with her years ago when her father gained some political opposition, out of fear she’d get in harm’s way. Thanks to Harry, that’s never happened.

Suffice to say, she’s less than happy to see him here.

Normally, he’s a nice face to look at. All handsome and diligent. He stands nearly half a foot taller than her, always dressed in nearly all black. He has women fainting over him. She, too, can admire his beauty. 

But she’s not going to tell him that.

“As if an army of my father’s men would frighten me,” she replies back.

“Aren’t you glad to see me? Out of all the guards that could have been here searching for the runaway bride, aren’t you happy that it’s me and not another?”

“I’d be more happy to see my fiancé.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Is he still your fiancé?”

“I mean, I still have the ring on my finger.”

“Would have figured you’d pawned it off by now.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Are you going to force me to go back? Because let me tell you, I’m going to put up a fight. I will scream bloody murder if you touch me.”

Harry looks amused now. He rests his chin on his palm.

“That is quite a plan. It’s easy to see how you could be so creative about running away too. Let’s talk about it because I do feel the need to give you kudos, mademoiselle. Not only did you persuade your father to have a winter wedding, but you also picked out the most expensive fabrics and gems for your big day. You convince your fiancé that you love him and then leave him in the church where everyone is supposed to witness a holy union. You thoroughly humiliated him. Excellent scheming.”

He actually does seem impressed.

She doesn’t say anything.

“And to answer your question,” he continues. “I don’t plan on forcing you to go back. In fact, I was actually anticipating this.”

“Anticipating this, how?” She doesn’t want to be on the defense, but he’s acting strange. Too comfortable. 

He rolls his head back and looks at her incredulously. “You may not see me at all times, but as your guard, I do keep my eyes on you. And it’s a wonder how other people didn’t notice. The way your smile dropped at the mere mention of him, the way you had to leave the room with a pitiful excuse every time he showed up. The way you refused to let him kiss you after he very kindly walked you home all the time. Almost difficult to watch.”

She feels her face burn. “You’re not supposed to spy on me.”

“That is my job. I get paid for it, so I might as well be thorough, no?” He’s smiling again.

“All those things mean nothing. It was a last minute decision to run away.” She tilts her head back and finishes her ale.

“Ah, that I know. It was the most surprising part when you didn’t show up. I knew you would pull something like this, make an excuse of some kind. I anticipated that – but I didn’t anticipate it happening on your wedding day.”

“I wasn’t going to wait for an annulment. Don’t know if that would even be possible. And who'd want to marry me after that anyways. Running away was my best option.”

“He’s absolutely distraught, by the way. He’d be very unhappy if he knew we were talking like this. We’ve become friends of some sort.”

“Why would he be upset about us speaking?”

The incredulous look comes back. “It pains me that you don’t know how jealous your little fiancé is. You have such little awareness.”

“Jealous?” She suddenly laughs. “Oh please. As if he has anything to be jealous about.”

Harry finishes his drink and then orders another round for them. As he does, she takes him in. He’s in his black vest, white long sleeved shirt, with an undone white cravat, his jacket tucked away somewhere in the bar. He taps his perfectly polished boots against the floor, pristine black trousers fitting nicely around his strong thighs. His trousers are always perfectly fitted, unlike the rest of her guards. Or maybe she’s just spent a lot of time looking at him.

“He has plenty to be jealous about, mademoiselle.”

“All my attention has been on wedding planning and such for weeks now. I haven’t had the chance to even talk to another man.”

He glances back at her when she’s looking down at his thighs. He’s silent for a moment, but then says quietly, “Not all jealousy has to come from interacting with a man. It could just be from the way you look at one.”

Her eyes jump back to his face. His eyes are narrowed as if trying to figure her out. “He has nothing to be jealous about,” she repeats.

“He doesn’t?”

“As horrible of a woman I am for leaving a man at his own wedding, I’m not the type of woman to betray him, even though I don’t feel any particular affection for him. I respect him and myself.”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with respect, mademoiselle. It’s about desire. After all, you should desire the man you’re marrying, is that not true?”

“Yes, and that’s why I’ve run away.”

“And if you were to desire someone else, it wouldn’t be betrayal, given you’re no longer his intended.”

He says it so casually, but she sees the way his eyes slip down to her mouth for a brief second. 

“I still have the ring.”

He glances at her hand. “Will you keep it?”

“Not planning on it.”

“And until then, you’ll stay faithful to a man you have no intention of marrying? Forgive me, I can’t seem to make sense of this logic.”

She thinks about how much she should tell him. He’s had it figured out, it seems. Maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding her true feelings about the union. Or maybe Harry’s just watched her too closely.

She says, “Are you really not going to take me back?”

Harry shakes his head. “What good would that do?”

“My father would appreciate it.”

“Your father has overlooked many things that I think have been worth appreciating over the span of my career as your dutiful guard, mademoiselle.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Harry doesn’t say anything. He simply watches her, as if she’ll understand him just from his expression. She doesn’t.

“Tell me,” she demands.

“I’ve done things that deserve recognition, that is all.”

“Like what?”

He narrows his eyes. “Like keeping you alive for the past four years, you ungrateful wench. With all the stupid decisions you make on a daily basis, I should actually be getting a fucking medal for managing to keep all your limbs in tact.”

The way he says it is so sudden and harsh, she can’t help but laugh. 

“Funny, is it?” he grumbles.

“Hilarious. So, what type of recognition would you even have liked for keeping me alive?”

“It doesn't matter now, I think. Surely I’ll lose my job for not getting to you in time and bringing you back.”

She sits up straighter. “If I were to be brought back, what do you think you’d deserve for it?”

He sighs. “I shouldn't say.”

“I want to know.”

“You’ll hate me.”

She smiles real wide. “So what?"

He contemplates it for a moment. Finishes his second drink and then drums his fingers on the bar top. His knee gently brushes against her skirts beneath the table. “Did you know that before your father picked him to marry you, he had one of the other guards draft a list of eligible men?”

Her expression sours. “There was a list? How disappointing.”

“Mhm. It wasn’t a very long one.”

“What does this have to do with my question?”

He looks at her, unblinking. “If I were to bring you back to your father, and you still had to marry, I would like to be considered on that list.”

Everything falls away. Her smile drops, and her heart beats hard in her ears. Harry doesn’t look away from her, watching every expression take over her face. Surprise, worry, and then…

“Oh.”

The corner of his mouth twists. “Right. And a part of me wishes I’d throw you over my shoulder and drag you back to him. Just to be considered, even for a mere moment. Long enough for there to be a mental image of you and I at the altar in your father’s head. I’d be pleased with even a mere thought if it’s the only time we'd ever be together. But that wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“No.” Though the thought of being draped over that shoulder is more than enough to get her knee bouncing under the table. Her leg jostles his.

“And of course,” he says, smiling tightly, “you are loyal to your man because of that ring.”

They both look down at the gem. It gleams in the light. 

Harry’s eyes dart back up to hers. He watches her for several long seconds before he reaches out.

With slow movements, he takes her hand. “Unless…” he murmurs, resting her hand on top of his knee. He gently twists the ring off her finger and drops it into his pocket. She keeps her hand on his leg.

Could he be trying to get her to make a move? She’ll be truly guilty if she advances first, but he doesn’t seem to be pulling away either. She holds her breath.

What she ends up saying is, “You said that as my guard, you’ve always needed to keep your eyes on me.”

“Yes.” His gaze is heavy. Dark.

“Even when I didn’t need you to?”

“I always looked out for you. I always will. It’s become second nature to me.”

That makes her feel a certain way. A way she’s never felt in her life. Her breath catches. 

"You do deserve something for that," she says softly. She carefully squeezes his leg, right above his knee.

His jaw visibly tenses.

Harry leans in, and this is when she realizes he’s moving first. He takes a hold of her chin and tilts it up, eyebrows drawn together as if he’s really trying his best to stay away but can’t. He brings his head down. He whispers her name and her body caves, leaning into him.

For the first time in her life, she's excited about kissing a man. Her impatience suddenly surpasses the limit. She puts her other hand on his knee and pushes herself upwards to meet his kiss.

Just before his mouth touches hers, the bartender returns with a gruff, “Il est tout à fait inapproprié de le faire ici. Allez dans votre chambre.” 

Harry pulls away, just barely, and looks down at her through his eyelashes. He keeps a hold on her face. “Shall we?” he asks her, ignoring the bartender. 

She swallows roughly. His eyes are drenched with desire, her heart pounding away in her chest. She licks her lips, enjoying the way he follows the movement.

He whispers, “I’ll be nice, darling.”

Excitement spreads through her like wildfire. She balls her hands into fists and takes a deep breath. “Come.”

He smiles then, and it takes her aback. As he stands, he genuinely looks pleased. Relieved even. As if he’s been waiting for this chance. He takes her hand and tells her to lead him to her room. 

And when he presses her against her door, hands tangled in her hair, a searing kiss placed onto her mouth, she realizes this is what it’s supposed to feel like.

[icallhimjoey]

Then Again

♥ ♥  rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: In this the third part of what's now become my Eddie story, following "Only Now" and "Over Now". Since your last visit, Eddie spiraled, and Eddie spiraled hard. An exciting event brings all of you, the whole gang, back into a room together and even though time has passed, and everyone seems to have moved on... have you?

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, fem!reader, smut, angst

Author’s note: all of the girlies who left me lengthy messages and shared your ideas; this one's because of you and entirely for you. I really hope it answers all of your questions and lives up to all of your expectations!

Wordcount: 9.8K

(find all four parts of this story here)

Eddie stared at the invitation he pulled from a delicate beige envelope he'd just been handed by a roadie. The chaos from setting up the stage in a venue they'd just arrived at that day was always something Eddie liked to escape. He'd find a quiet place to wait all of it out, sometimes even stayed on the bus, until he'd be called to stage for soundcheck. When a roadie knocked and walked into his dressing room, Eddie was already up on his feet because he thought it was time, but then he was given an envelope with his name written on and was left alone again.

The influx of feelings nearly knocked him off his boots; joy, fear, guilt, relief, shame - it all hit him at once, hard. Square in his chest, where it hurt him the most and where he felt he probably deserved it the most, too.

“Fifteen months today?”

“Day after tomorrow, but, close enough, right? Fifteen months.” Eddie said it like he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

Sat across from his therapist, he smiled bashfully at the mention of his achievement in sobriety. His therapist seemed incredibly excited and very proud of him, and if he was honest, she really was the only person he appreciated celebrating with him. Everyone else around him acknowledged it all the time, but they’d tiptoe around the subject, always scared to say the wrong thing. Eddie’s substance abuse had left a mark on them, and he’d worked hard to make things right, but he knew that there were people who’d forever be afraid that Eddie would relapse and become the worst version of himself again.

"That's fantastic, Eddie! Wow. Congratulations!"

His therapist was full on big smiles and there was no fear behind her eyes, and Eddie really appreciated it.

He hated seeing that fear. It would remind him of all the things he had done wrong in his life. Of everything that lead him to where he was now, which was a good place, anyone would agree. But too often, something or someone would hold up a mirror and show Eddie this is what you did, what you were like, what you said to me and it hurt.

If Eddie was honest, which, through a lot of therapy, he learned he really owed to himself, he’d been slowly spiraling down ever since Corroded Coffin got signed and he got a free ticket out of Hawkins. But what really accelerated him into the deepest pits of hell was that one night where you asked Eddie to ruin it all.

And he did ruin it all. Because you had asked him to, and he had obliged.

You hadn’t known how to react when yet another headline graced a newspaper, or when Eddie’s drunk angry face was plastered on the cover of another magazine, or when your boss would make another comment on what appeared to be reckless rockstar behavior from Eddie that made the press.

“Did I do this?” you asked, turning a page with a trembling hand as your cheek and shoulder worked hard to keep the phone at your ear.

“Absolutely not. Eddie is one hundred per cent doing this himself,” Steve answered, looking at the same magazine spread of unflattering paparazzi pictures.

“But do I… do I call someone? I can’t watch– what if he does something really stupid, Steve? What if…” you didn’t want to finish your sentence and heard Steve sigh on the other end of the line.

“I’ve reached out so many times, trust me. To his band members, to his management– even to Wayne, but it’s all– they’re all very… there’s nothing anyone can do,”

“So we’re just going to watch him crash and burn?” the picture in front of you of Eddie throwing an empty whiskey bottle at the windscreen of a random car should’ve never been taken and should’ve never been printed, you thought. The people around him were either eager photographers, trying to catch Eddie’s downfall in real time, or bystanders laughing. Big ugly smiles on big ugly faces, not an ounce of empathy for Eddie Munson who very clearly wasn’t doing okay.

The fucking tabloids could die, for all you cared.

“We’re not.” Steve answered, and for a second you hoped he’d have a plan. Some way to reach Eddie without facing the risk of pulling the two of you into it with him.

“We’re not going to watch him.” Steve then said, and you slumped your shoulders and let your head fall as you took hold of the phone with your hand. Simply ignoring Eddie as he dug his own grave wasn’t really going to help your anxiety at all.

“He’ll come to his senses,” Steve said, not even really convincing himself, but trying his best anyway. “Eventually.”

“I just wish there was something we could do,” the guilt you’d felt pool at the pit of your stomach into this black puddle of tar felt too sticky for you to ignore.

“It’s probably not as bad as it looks, you know what these magazines are like,” Steve tried, and you knew he was probably at least a little bit right.

“Hey,” Steve said after you failed to say anything, but just stared at the images of Eddie in front of you. “Don’t let it ruin your day, all right?” Like it hadn’t already ruined every single one since Eddie started calling you at the most awful hours and leave lengthy voicemail messages in a sloppy voice. You were barely able to make out anything he said at all, but you could always sense the anger and if the message went on long enough, his absolute helplessness. The obvious vulnerability. His weakness. They were all the things you felt constrict within your own chest as you’d listen to the messages in the morning.

Eddie never called. Never used to call. Now, he did it all the time. But you never called back.

Well, you did once but were greeted by the very kind voice of someone at the front desk of the hotel Eddie had stayed at that night, and you knew it’d be no use to ask for Eddie. He’d either have checked in under another name to hide his identity, or he'd have left already. You almost thought he did it on purpose; Eddie only ever reached out to you when he knew you’d either be at work, or asleep, and never gave you a chance to catch him when you’d return the call.

And so, you’d just listen.

You’d listen, and then you’d save every single message to listen to again later, because that’s the kind of person you were. You’d listen to them whenever you needed a good cry, because it always worked. And sometimes, you listened to them for other reasons. Stupid reasons, like, when you wanted to make yourself feel awful about yourself. You know, normal girly things. That was until Steve visited, and you let him hear. He had instantly deleted all of them from your machine.

Steve was angry with Eddie on a whole ‘nother level which he thought he hid well from you. He didn’t. You knew. But you never talked about it together because it would just be painful, and none of it would help. You both missed Eddie – not this Eddie, but Eddie Eddie – and the fact that it was hard to escape him made it all the more difficult.

It had all come ahead when, almost a full year after Eddie had last properly seen you, Robin’s doorbell rang at a quarter past midnight, followed by loud sloppy banging against her door. Panicked and confused at who the hell would be so loud that late, Robin was so ready to get angry at a tipsy, giggly Steve, but when she unlocked her door, saw someone she hadn’t been expecting.

Eddie Munson.

He looked closer to death than he’d ever looked before, and if Robin was honest, smelled closer to it too. He seemed unable to fully open his eyes, and when he looked at Robin for a second, she saw he also couldn’t keep his eyes still. They twirled and crossed over, and if the swaying on his legs didn’t give away how drunk he was, his eyes certainly sold the deal.

“Eddie?” Robin checked behind him, but he was alone. “Aren’t you… didn’t you have a show in Chicago tonight?” Robin knew because one of her cousins who lived in the windy city had been so excited to see Corroded Coffin live. Had called her specifically to tell her, because she knew Robin used to go to high school with Eddie. A car ride from Chicago would’ve taken nearly five hours. How the fuck was Eddie here right now?

“Ishehere?” Eddie drawled, the words barely making it out of him.

Eddie pushed Robin out of the way roughly and walked into the hallway with feet that were somehow too heavy to lift and simultaneously unable to easily find the floor again. Eddie had to use both his hands on either side of him to find balance on whatever he could grab onto.

Mentally, Robin tried to piece the situation together in order to make sense of it. If Eddie was here, there was no chance the concert had happened that night. He was definitely under the influence, maybe of more than just alcohol, and Robin feared that he’d left Chicago without anyone knowing. Left the band, left the fans – left a full venue of people waiting for him to come up on stage and play some fan favorites and some newer songs. Just, left.

Oh man. Eddie was in trouble.

In his current state he obviously couldn’t have gone to see Wayne, Robin couldn’t even imagine how Wayne would react to the man she saw stumble into her home. He also couldn’t have gone to see Steve either – Eddie probably knew that there were a lot of judgmental words waiting for him, a full lecture of phrases and terms that he’d have to wade through before he’d even catch sight of a couch to sleep on.

“You walked right past me,” Robin said somewhat sarcastically to Eddie’s question as she closed her front door, accepting that Eddie was in her house now and was probably going to stay the night.

“Where are you hiding her?” Eddie raised his voice and loudly slammed the door to Robin’s hallway closet and suddenly, Robin was scared. Eddie was aggressive, and she was alone.

“I’m here!” Robin hissed, nervous, but loudly, making Eddie turn his head to give her a quick glance before turning and tripping over his own feet into her living room. Robin followed him and got to see him plummet face first onto her couch. She watched him squirm around a little bit, take his shoes off with little care, mumbling to himself as he threw them across the room. Robin wondered where all of his stuff was. Had he traveled here with nothing? Should she call someone? Let them know Eddie was with her, and not face down passed out in a ditch somewhere?  

Amongst the incomprehensible rambles Eddie was slurring into one of Robin’s throw pillows, she made out some words he grumbled, “You always leave– … where are you now– … you fucking left– ... bitch won’t ever answer– … I didn’t do this, you– ... You–”

Suddenly Eddie looked up and locked eyes with Robin.  

“You!”

“No,” Robin answered, surprisingly calm for her doing. She was still sort of jittery and definitely nervous, but also determined that whatever Eddie was struggling with, he wasn’t about to take any of it out on her.

“No, not me. I’m going to get you a blanket and a tall glass of water– a bucket. A bucket maybe, yes, because you seem like you’ve had a lot to drink, and I don’t want you ruining my rug. My mother got me that rug, she’d kill me if anything were to happen to it.” Robin rambled as her feet hurriedly carried her in small steps around her home, collecting the items she mentioned. “You see, sometimes people care about their things, their bodies, their lives, and they don’t feel the need to absolutely ruin everything all of the time,” she continued, and it was all too fast paced, too much, too sober for Eddie to follow or to respond to. “They don’t get drunk and travel for hours just to ring someone’s doorbell after midnight, scaring the living daylight out of them because, what if something happened to someone? Why else would someone come a-knocking? They don’t do that Eddie. They don’t.”

It seemed like Eddie had passed out.

“Please don’t die on my couch,” Robin finished, placing down a glass of water on her coffee table. “We can talk in the morning.”

Robin made sure to lock her front door and hide the keys, so Eddie had no chance of sneaking out and endangering himself more than he already had done before disappearing into her bedroom. The click of her bedroom door followed by the sudden absence of noise made Eddie lift his head up slightly, and he noticed only then that Robin had left him alone.

“Hey!” she heard Eddie call for her, the anger in his voice unmistakable.

“Robin!” she kept quiet, squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. No. She’d talk to him in the morning.

In a bid to get her attention, Eddie flung an arm out, knocking over the glass of water, and whether he intended it or not, it smashed onto the floor, breaking into vicious shards that imprisoned Eddie to the couch.

Robin heard.

Paused.

No.

She’d talk to him in the morning.

The next morning Eddie woke up to Robin talking to someone on the phone. She was trying to be quiet, but Robin was on edge and anxiety had taken over her system. She hissed down the phone and Eddie caught every word.

"Emergency. Code red. You have to come help me right now." "Guess who showed up at my doorstep in the middle of the night?" "He’s on my couch, covered in vomit." "Of course he's still alive." "No, please, you have to come, I don’t know what to do," "It smells so bad, please, Steve, I can’t do this on my own, he’s your friend," "What do I do in the meantime?" "Okay. Please, hurry."

Eddie groaned. Everything hurt. It felt like the full front of his body was bruised. Head pounding. Taste of death in his mouth. Smell of butyric acid so thick in the air, it almost made Eddie retch again. He moved to sit up, but Robin was eyeing him like a hawk, sat up in a squat on an armchair and was quick to stop him.

“Stop! Don’t move.”

Eddie didn’t need telling twice and let himself fall back, relaxing into the couch again.

“There’s glass and throw up everywhere. You’re not moving an inch ‘til Steve gets here.”

Robin stayed put, kept her eyes on him and monitored every single chest raise and face grimace of the man splayed out on her couch. A man she only really knew because she'd grown close with Steve when they became coworkers, but had never really hung out with by herself. Mumbling under her breath, angry that Eddie had gotten vomit so close to her rug, Robin kept her distance because, God, smelling vomit first thing in the morning really was a sure fire way to get sick yourself if you weren't careful.

It took Steve and Robin 40 minutes to get Eddie situated at the dining table in some of Steve's clothes, freshly showered, with a glass of water and a bowl of cereal in front of him. Robin was doing her best to carefully pick up glass from her living room floor next to the couch. Steve was sat next to Eddie, both arms stretched, hands holding his knees, one leg bouncing and brows furrowed down deep. Steve was waiting for Eddie to talk. To explain. To apologize.

Eddie sighed, clearly still nauseous, and pushed the bowl of cereal away.

Steve didn't hesitate to push it right back to where it was.

"I'm not hungry, man,"

"I don't care,"

Eddie sighed again, now reaching for the spoon and moving it around a bit.

The only noise that filled the room was from pieces of glass Robin collected on the coffee table. The tension could be cut with a butter knife until Steve groaned loudly in frustration and got up from his seat.

"What are you doing, Eddie? What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Steve yelled, and it made Eddie wince. His head was throbbing still, and loud noises hurt. Steve quickly sat down again and scooted closer to Eddie, really got in his face, made sure that whatever he was going to say next, he could see Eddie's reaction.

"Fuck you, man."

Eddie kept his gaze at the bowl of cereal in front of him, but Steve saw his jaw clench.

"Seriously?! Mindful? This is mindful to you? I don't– You can't– ... You've got to stop calling her. I'm being serious, stop with the intoxicated phone calls."

Robin stopped what she was doing and looked at them from her crouched position next to her couch. This wasn't a conversation she could pretend to not listen to whilst she was doing a dangerous task.

"Telling her that she's the one that ran away – Eddie, you left. You left and then you started coming and going as you pleased, in and out of Hawkins, in and out of our lives – her life."

Eddie let out a breath he'd been holding in, rolled his eyes and turned his head away from Steve.

Wrong move, Robin thought.

"You left. You bailed. You ran, you mother fucker," Steve got up abruptly, nearly making his chair fall backwards and for good measure, Steve kicked it in frustration making Eddie flinch.

"Steve," Robin tried in a bid to calm him down.

Steve took a few steps, hands up in his hair, breathing heavily as he looked at Eddie's tensed back.

"And now you're, what? Drinking yourself into the grave? Who is that meant to hurt? Just her? Because it's not." Steve lied. "You're only hurting yourself." Another lie, encased in truth, followed by silence. Robin was scared to breathe as she watched Eddie who honestly looked like he was still drunk, not far removed from throwing up again.

"Why could you not..." Steve sighed, "Why couldn't you just be with her?"

"I was!" Eddie suddenly exclaimed and turned to look Steve in the eye. "I was with her! When I was here, I was with her."

"Cut the bullshit, asshole," Steve looked at him through narrowed eyes. "We all know that's not what I meant."

Eddie turned to look at Robin, who was quick to hold up both her hands, showing her palms as if to say, don't ask me. Then he turned back to look at Steve again, and he felt the built up anger dissipate when all he could see in his friend's face was worry and pain. Clenching his jaw, Eddie's eyes found the bowl of cereal in front of him again and he kept them there as he heard Steve sit down next to him again.

"I'm not going to pretend that whatever you're doing to yourself isn't complete self-destruction because you know, Eddie. You know what you did and you know what you had and now you know what you lost now that she finally, fucking finally, ended it."

If Steve wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw the first little rips in Eddie's hard demeanor. A couple little cracks, and Steve hoped they'd grow deeper so he could get in there properly. Worm his way in, and then drag his friend out of there.

"She moved on, and you can't handle that, and now look at what you're doing to yourself..."

"Eddie," Robin suddenly spoke from the other side of the room, making him look up a second. Her voice sounded soft and kind, and the look in her eyes reflected her words.

"You scared me last night..."

Eddie didn't need to hear more. This was enough for tears to spring into his eyes. He turned away to at least somewhat hide it, but the loud sniff that followed gave away that he was crying. Steve placed a strong, but caring hand on his shoulder, and Eddie immediately grabbed it. Held onto it. White-knuckled it until it hurt him.

"Enough with the shit excuses, all right? When's the last time you've seen Wayne?"

Eddie hugged Steve, and Eddie hugged Robin. Uttered the words "I'm sorry," about a million times through tears he felt guilty for crying. Robin was quick to tell him he didn't need to apologize to her, but Steve didn't react to the words at all, felt like he should at least say them two million more times and really mean all of them for Steve to accept them.

Eddie let Steve drive him over to Wayne's.

Wayne took Eddie straight to rehab.

When you got off the phone with Steve, you were crying. It was a weird mix of relief, happy tears, honest joyous thoughts because Eddie would be taken care of now, but you also felt so much pain for him. Rehab? That meant it was really serious. That it was really real. But he was getting help now, which was definitely good news, but you just wished it had never ever gotten to this point.

Starting you shift down at the bar, you couldn't really stop thinking about it. Your boss made a small comment, asked what was on your mind, because you seemed a little out of it, so you'd vaguely told him you'd gotten some news. Ultimately okay news, good news, but, food for thought anyway. Your boss' reaction had been that you were lucky it was Wednesday and it probably wouldn't get really busy.

And your boss had been right.

The bar only really saw regulars that day, all sat at barstools with elbows perched up onto the shiny varnished wood while the rest of the place remained empty. These guys made your job easy. You knew what all of them were drinking – beer, and beer, and then later, likely more beer – and you would have the next drink ready for them before they could even ask. They would all tip extra too if you smiled and engaged in kind conversation with them. Which you did.

Then, a stranger walked in, and he instantly caught everyone's attention. If the light, acid washed, tight jeans and the white, impeccable, tightly laced-up tennis shoes were anything to go by, this guy was lost with a capital L. Maybe, probably, there just to use the restrooms.

"That kid lost?" one of the older guys sat at the bar must have read your mind, making the two men next to him snigger softly.

You made eye contact as he sat down at the far end of the bar and smiled. "Can I get you anything?"

He honestly looked a bit like Steve, if you were honest. Polo shirt and all. Disney looking dude. Hair all sun-kissed, high lighted by the summer. The least intimidating man in there by far. And pretty. Shit, this guy was really pretty. You saw him look around and check what everyone else was drinking.

"Jack and coke?" he asked, almost like he wanted your permission for getting anything other than just a beer. "Sure, coming right up," you grinned and got started on it. You saw your boss making eyes at one of the regulars, and they were clearly making fun a little. But when you checked to see if your new customer could tell that he was being taunted for sticking out like a sore thumb, you saw him mouth along to the song being played. You turned back to look at your boss, eyebrows raised high as if to say, oh, maybe he's not so lost?

You finished mixing his drink and were about to place it down in front of him when he held out his hand to take it from you. Handing it over, his fingers brushed yours, and then you held eye contact for much longer than would be considered normal.

"Thank you," he smiled sweetly, and you couldn't help but blush. His eyes were really captivating. Big brown orbs, surrounded by beautiful long lashes. Killer smile, too.

"You're welcome," what had you all shy all of a sudden? Was it the freckles?

He reached his other hand over the bar and held it out to you.

"I'm Matt,"

You stared at it for a second, heard your boss very clearly suppress a laugh behind you, and then decided to shake it.

"Nice to meet you, Matt."

Matt then looked over your shoulder at everyone behind you and raised his glass in cheers to all the other men. You turned around and were surprised to see all of them raising their glasses in return just before you caught your boss trying to hide his smirk from you.

Interesting, you thought. This could definitely get interesting.

“So, you mentioned next weekend is big… what’s happening?” Eddie’s therapist scooted forwards in her chair and clicked the pen in her hand as it hovered over a notebook she’d scribble in from time to time.

“A wedding.” Eddie answered in a held breath, chest puffed out, holding it there for a second. “Old friends from Hawkins invited me to their wedding on Saturday, at Laurel Hall in Indianapolis, which is this beautiful mansion, used to be a school way back when…” Eddie had gotten into the habit of just saying whatever he thought, saving his therapist the trouble of asking for details. “They’ve been together since high school. High school sweethearts, what a dream, right? I guess everyone’s going to be there, old classmates, friends – I’ve been given a plus one too, which they didn’t need to do, but is still kind of them,”

“Who are getting married?”

“Nancy and Jonathan,” Eddie answered, rubbing sweaty palms over his jeans. They were names of people he didn’t think he had ever mentioned before, so he felt the need to clarify. “Jonathan is Will’s older brother, and Nancy is Mike’s older sister, and Mike and I used to be–” Eddie started, but his therapist stopped him as he clicked her fingers in recognition. “Hellfire Club.” She stated, and Eddie smiled.  “Yea,” he let a short silence fall in which he collected thoughts.

“Nancy and Steve also dated for a couple of months when they were 15… maybe 16, and Will and Mike are best friends too, so, there’s a lot of… we’re intertwined in a lot of different ways,” Eddie waved his hands over each other a few times to illustrated the intertwining of all of them.

"I guess that's what happens in small towns, huh?"

"You're nervous. Why are you nervous?" she saw right through him.

"Well... it's a wedding. People will be drinking." Eddie sighed deeply, then frowned as he stared into nothing for a second.

"Will your ex-girlfriend be there too, if you don't mind me asking?"

Ex-girlfriend.

Eddie's eyes shot up to look his therapist in the eye.

Ex-girlfriend.

They made Eddie talk a lot in rehab. Group therapy sessions. Individual therapy sessions. And Eddie had never really talked about anything that really bothered him before, so it was real difficult at first. He felt he wasn't meant to feel bad about anything, because was he not living the dream? Was this life not everything he had been wishing for? Everything he'd ever dreamed of ever since getting his very own first guitar?

Eddie was meant to explode with joy. Be the happiest man alive. Instead, however, Eddie felt like he was drowning constantly, and felt overwhelming guilt for it too.

Eddie had to explain all of it. Make everyone understand as he made sense of it himself. When he had to explain to people who hadn't been around your friendship, hadn't known what the two of you were like, what you'd always been like together, he tried to find the right words to make everyone understand. And then, there only seemed to be one right word for it.

Ex-girlfriend.

You totally were his ex-girlfriend.

It was an awful moment of realization that kept him up at night for weeks because, you were his ex-girlfriend now. Ex. You had totally dated each other. For years. You'd been his girlfriend and he'd been your boyfriend. An awful one, too, but a boyfriend none the less. It had been the real deal. Eddie had been so in love and recognized that you'd been too. Maybe even more so. How had he never known? Never seen it? Never been able to face it? How did he, only now that it was over, learn that that was what it was? Eddie never even knew it was something he could lose, because it never earned its label. It never got named, and so it never gained any strength. Now that it was gone, over, past the point of repair, Eddie suddenly gave it strength, gave it meaning, gave it power by naming it what it really had been and it was heart shattering.

"I think so," Eddie said to his therapist, nodding slowly. "Yea, she must be."

And Eddie was right. The first person he laid eyes on when he walked into Laurel Hall on Saturday May 4th at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, was you. You were up near the front, already seated for the ceremony, and Eddie decided to hang back because that felt a little safer. He sat next to what he assumed were some distant relatives, and gave himself the time to see which way the wind was blowing.

The ceremony was beautiful. Jonathan and Nancy looked stunning, and Eddie really tried to follow along, to listen to the vows, to smile when he was supposed to, and to clap when he was supposed to. But with everyone, Robin, Steve, Dustin, Mike, people's parents – oh my God old friends and their judgmental parents, Eddie had completely forgotten about the parents – but mostly, with you in the room, paying attention seemed an impossible task.

Halfway through the ceremony Eddie doubted if he should've even come at all, and he thought of slipping out unseen. His palms were so sweaty, they were leaving wet patches in his trousers, and his legs wouldn't stop bouncing. But when he looked around to see if no one would actually notice, he locked eyes with Dustin who gave the most excited smile Eddie thought he'd ever seen on him, and so he stayed.

At the reception, Eddie was welcomed by someone holding a huge tray of champagne flutes at the bottom of the stairs and he figured he'd do the polite thing and take one. He'd secretly discard it somewhere on a mantel later, he thought. When he saw you in the crowd, talking to some other people he knew, he decided to grab two flutes. You were empty handed, he had two drinks – one plus one equalled two. It could've been the perfect way to step into your group. The perfect opening to talk to you. The perfect way to– ...oh no.

Someone else handed you a drink.

And you leant in.

And you kissed them?

Let them place a hand on your lower back?

You smiled?

Seemed very happy?

"Eddie!"

Dustin frantically waved him over, and Eddie was visibly relieved for the out he was given. Swerving off the path that lead directly to you, he walked over to where Dustin was stood with Will, Lucas and Max. Eddie said his hellos, and they all politely smiled at him, gave him the exact looks with the exact eyes that he'd feared he'd get from everyone that day. Somewhat fearful, definitely awkward, a little scared to say the wrong thing, and far too focussed on the huge elephant in the room that took up almost every square inch from wall to wall, from floor to ceiling. It only left the smallest bit of wiggle room to squeeze in some polite small talk.

Except, Dustin wasn't about that small talk life. At all.

"Yep, I'll take these, thank you very much," Dustin said, reaching for both of the glasses Eddie was holding and downed them immediately. Eddie gave him a look, and Dustin stared right back. "Surprise, I'm not 14 anymore, I'm overage now, shithead," he deadpanned, and Eddie was stunned into laughter. "Are you?" Will squinted at Dustin after some quick mental math, but Dustin just shrugged and said, "Close enough, anyway."

They managed to converse on a somewhat normal level in their little group. Eddie was a little fidgety, but Dustin was just being his regular old self, always teetering between innocent excitement and nonjudgmental acceptance, which was exactly what Eddie needed. Good old helpful little nerdy Dustin. What a dude, what a savior. The group grew slightly awkward again when Mike joined them, brother of the bride, but it only took seconds for Eddie to lock his elbow around Mike's neck. Mike said something so stupid about how Will and Mike were brothers now, it made everyone groan, so obviously, it was headlock-time.

Their laughter was loud, young boys having fun, but it felt misplaced because they were all in fancy suits in a very fancy solarium, and were definitely drawing attention to themselves for it. Dustin tried stepping in to save his friend, but Eddie had two arms, had he not? Lucas tried to warn him, but it was to no avail and Eddie had them both now. "No wedgies, no wedgies!" Dustin called out before wedgies had even crossed Eddie's mind. People who didn't know them were frowning, no doubt wanting to tell them off, boys you're at a wedding reception, behave yourselves!

You observed them calmly over the rim of your glass as you happily sipped the champagne that your boyfriend had handed you earlier, and you hid a smile. "They're such babies," you heard Robin mutter next to you, followed by "Oh my God, that's him! That's Eddie Munson!" from your very excited boyfriend, Matt. "Come on, I'll introduce you," Steve quipped and nodded for Matt to follow him. "Don't ask him to sign anything, or tonight is going to be so weird," you heard Steve say as they walked off together.

Yeah.

Tonight was definitely going to be weird.

You knew Eddie hadn't seen you look. You'd clocked him immediately. Had seen him sit down in the back during the ceremony. Tried to keep your attention with Nancy and Jonathan, smiled at Matt when he squeezed your thigh at the vows, hugged his arm as he teared up when Jonathan spoke. But Eddie was in the back, and you could almost feel his eye bore into you, so your legs had bounced wildly the entire time and your mind hadn't wavered from him for a single second.

Watching Matt be his giddy, excited, puppy-dog self as Steve introduced him was almost too much to witness. Matt was a huge Corroded Coffin fan, even if he didn't look it, and you'd told him about how you used to be real close friends with Eddie. You had never let on what that friendship entailed. What that friendship had looked like to others. What that friendship had meant to you. Matt just thought it was really cool and couldn't wait to one day maybe meet him.

Which was right now, and you realized you were entirely unprepared.

Robin understood what a bizarre position you'd been placed in, and stood beside you as you both looked at the three of them from afar. You thought it was nice that you were out of earshot, you didn't need to hear Steve ask Eddie to ask Matt what his favourite band was. It was also nice to see that Steve and Eddie were on good terms. They smiled at each other, and had hugged in greeting. You knew they'd seen each other a few times after Eddie had gotten out of rehab. Steve had also actually replied to the letter they had made Eddie write in there, which you hadn't done. You had read the one he wrote you, memorized huge chunks of it even, but had never picked up a pen to write a reply. It had kind of kept the door between the two of you dead-bolted shut, and Eddie hadn't dared knocking it for fear you'd find another lock to turn the key on.

"This is weird," Robin muttered, only loud enough for you to hear.

"So weird," you agreed. You saw how Eddie kept biting his lips and knew that he was nervous. Eddie Munson, nervous to talk to your Disney boyfriend. What a wild thing to be staring at.

"Matt and Steve are practically wearing the same outfit," Robin followed up, and you realized that she was talking about something entirely different from you. But, shit, she was right. It wasn't the exact same outfit, but if you squinted hard enough, you could easily confuse one for the other.

When you saw Matt turn to look at you, point his finger for Eddie to follow its line, you waved. And then you smiled. You were a grown up. An adult, God damn it. You could wave at someone and be normal, surely.

Before Eddie could wave back, you saw how they were being asked to step into the formal dining room as dinner was about to be served. People started moving, all ready to find their seats at the other end of the mansion, but Eddie didn't follow them. Instead, he slowly make his way over to you, and then, suddenly, it was just you and Eddie in the solarium still.

"Hey," with both hands in his pockets, Eddie twisted on his foot and used the other to tap your shin as a greeting. It was awkward, but cute.

"Hey," you returned the same gesture, but you were in heels, and you almost lost your balance. Eddie's hands reflexively reached out, but were quickly pulled back as you steadied yourself on your own. You blushed at your own clumsiness and Eddie scratched the back of his neck, entirely unsure of how to approach this chat with you.

Then you both chuckled. You chuckled at yourselves, at each other, at this outrageous situation you found yourselves in - all of it too stupid not to laugh at.

"You met Matt," you said, gesturing vaguely at the spot where they'd been stood seconds earlier.

"I did. Nice um... yeah, he's a nice guy," you could hear hesitation in his voice, and you squinted at him through a small smile. Eddie exuded the same vibes you'd felt in the bar when Matt had first walked in.

"Matty," Eddie said, and you could tell he was making fun a little. You let him, knowing how Matt could come off. Especially since he was an actual real life fan of Eddie. First impressions didn't really mean anything when it came to Matt. You knew.

"Eddie," you replied, returning his own facial expression and tone to him, and it made the both of you laugh softly.

"You look really good," Eddie suddenly complimented, looking you up and down, eyes gliding over your plum dress, and your chest ached with the way he said it.

"So do you," it was the polite thing to say, but you also absolutely meant it. Eddie looked fucking great.

A small silence lingered, and you were about to say that you should probably also make your way over to find your seat, but Eddie stopped you.

"Can we," Eddie stepped closer and let fingers wrap around your arm. "Can we meet, later? Another time, I mean. Another place. Like, next week, maybe?"

You looked at Eddie's hand as he touched you, felt sparks, before you looked up at him again, and you were met with big emotional eyes that couldn't look more apologetic if they tried.

You smiled warmly. "I'll think about it."

You knew it wasn't the answer Eddie wanted to hear, but he accepted it, nodded, let you go, and watched as you stepped away and went to find your seat next to Matt for dinner. You kind of liked the position of power you suddenly found yourself in with Eddie, and thought to yourself that you wanted to hold onto that for a little while longer. Could be, dared you think it, fun.

Dinner took its sweet time, and you grew a little bored. Speeches were followed by more speeches, were followed by more speeches, were followed by more speeches. When you saw Jim Hopper wipe thick tears from his cheeks, you turned to Steve to point it out. Steve looked, but then turned back to you and pointed at your boyfriend. Matt was crying too, and there was no possible way for him to even understand any of the references in any of the speeches. "Weddings just get me," he'd said earlier when he cried at the ceremony too, and you thought it was cute then. Now, it was becoming a bit much. You rolled your eyes at Steve, who silently laughed before you decided to down your glass of wine and immediately asked for another from a passing waiter.

After dinner, the party moved back to the rest of the ground floor. There was the grand lobby by the staircase, where people could sit on big old chesterfield couches and in old leather armchairs. Then there was the solarium that had its marble tiles turned into a dance floor. Lastly, there was the terrace, lit with beautiful patio lights strung across, where people could sit and chat at larger and smaller tables.

Jonathan and Nancy had their first dance, and it was very romantic. Made you swoon a little, looking at the eyes they made at each other. Perfect fucking couple. Behind them, you'd seen Eddie slip outside. For a smoke, you were sure. You weren't going to follow him. You were a grown up. An adult. You were no longer hung up on Eddie, and you made your own choices. Your next choice, you decided, was to drag your boyfriend onto the dance floor with you, even though, and he'd been very adamant about this, Matt didn't dance.

"Steve, my man," Matt slapped a hard hand onto Steve's shoulder.

"Do me a solid," he gestured to you as you were tipsily trying your best to reel Matt in with your imaginary fishing rod. "I don't dance."

Steve furrowed his brow, pretended to unhook Matt from your wire, and placed the imaginary hook onto his own collar. Ten seconds later, you were both stood on the dance floor, in dancing position, holding onto each other, just like everyone else was.

You mused together about how you were grown ups now. Real adults. With adult lives, and adult responsibilities. People your age were getting married now, having kids, had steady jobs, careers even and had fucking mortgages. It was such a trip if you thought about it for too long, and were glad to learn that Steve wholeheartedly agreed.

"We're grown ups who make sensible choices now," you almost said it like it was dirty.

"We're grown ups who know when to stop drinking," Steve said, giving you a look. You had definitely nearly tripped over your own feet a few times already.

"Ouch, don't let Eddie hear," you joked and, sure, maybe it was too soon for jokes like that, but you'd said it now anyway and it made Steve turn to check if Eddie hadn't accidentally heard you.

"We're grown ups who use our indoor voices," Steve pointedly said, visibly relieved Eddie hadn't been near you to have heard that.

"We're grown ups who decide for themselves how loud they want to speak," you were practically screaming over the music, and it had the two of you giggling into each other as you danced.

Dancing with Steve was fun. He sort of knew what he was doing and would hold you tightly when he did a spin. You'd seen Joyce smile and point you out to someone and knew it was solely because of the way Steve was moving you across the floor.

That was, until you were interrupted.

"Mind if I cut in?" Eddie suddenly appeared beside you, clasping a hand onto Steve's shoulder.

"Of course, but be careful with him, Steve's got two left feet," you joked, and pretended to step back to let Eddie dance with Steve.

"Idiot," Steve laughed and pulled you into a hug, whispered "grown ups!", in your ear and then smiled at Eddie as he passed your hand into his.

"Oh my God," you feigned nervousness as you let Eddie pull you close, one hand on the small of you back, the other holding your hand, just like every single other couple on the dance floor.

"I'm dancing with Eddie Munson," you said sarcastically, copying Matt's tone from earlier, squealing like an excited fan, smiling hard enough to make your eyes squint.

He furrowed his brows to appear offended, hurt even, but it was futile. The smile on Eddie's face was there to stay.

"You've clearly had a few, I see," Eddie noted, and if Eddie was trying to make you feel guilty over it, it wasn't working. You were totally allowed to drink, and weren't going to let Eddie - Eddie, who was responsible for the most difficult years of your life - guilt-trip you for it.

So, you just smiled. And nodded. Because yes, you had had a few. Eddie returned your smile and for a couple of seconds, you just danced and smiled at each other.

"You really do look nice," you said, noticing the blush in Eddie's cheeks that kind of matched your dress, funnily enough.

"Oh my God, stop flirting, people will assume things," Eddie joked in a hushed tone of voice, eyes darting across the room in a fake panic as you looked up at him.

"The people here? I think we both have years of convincing them they shouldn't be assuming shit under our belts, do we not?"

You were definitely flirting, and it felt terrific to feel like you had the upper hand over Eddie this time around. It was such a welcome shift you hadn't anticipated wanting to delve into so badly, but with plenty of others on the dance floor and no possible threat of Matt stepping in, you kind of just went with it. It was fun.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but," Eddie spun you before pulling you back into his chest. Not as smoothly as Steve would've done it, but still nice. "I don't think we ever really managed to properly convince anyone," Eddie grimaced, as if it was the worst news he could've ever broken to you.

You smiled at your feet before whipping you head back up to look at him. With Eddie smiling down at you like that, it seemed like Eddie appreciated you trying to keep the ball in your court. Tonight, Eddie could just look at you as you played with it. He could eagerly wish for you to toss it over the net, which you weren't planning on doing willingly, though you never ruled out the option of the ball slipping from your hands momentarily. Eddie might not have been drinking, but you definitely were. Maybe the ball would accidentally bounce over to him every once in a while, and those moments could be tests - you wanted to see if Eddie would throw the ball back to you on his own accord. And he better. He still had shit to make up to you.

"I got your letter," you blurted out, immediately regretting bringing it up, but Eddie's smile didn't falter.

"Lot of big confessions," you almost sounded challenging in your tone, a playful smile tugging at your cheeks.

"Yeah," Eddie scrunched his face as he elongated the word and nodded, not embarrassed to have written them down, but embarrassed you were talking to him about his feelings now.

"You never wrote me back, though,"

"I didn't,"

Eddie looked at you questioningly, and you were quick to frown at him.

"Um, how does one reply to, 'I was always head over heels, over the moon, out of this universe, so God damn in love with you, and I didn't even fucking know it'... any suggestions?"

"Um, I don't know, thank you, maybe,"

You laughed heartily at him, and Eddie bent into you as he laughed too. When the laughing ceased, and you returned to crow-feeted smiles for one another, Eddie realised that you'd memorized that part of his letter, and you realised that you'd just given that away.

"I do love you too, you know, if that's what you wanted to hear,"

Eddie gasped a small breath.

"You do?"

You nodded and grimaced, almost as if to say, I don't know why either, joining him in his bit.

"I had no idea," Of course Eddie fucking knew.

"What a shocker, hey?"

"I can not believe it. I don't think our friendship can take blows like this."

The music switched from a slight mellow one into a real slow, romantic one. There was no getting out of having to sway slowly to the gentle tunes, and to be honest, you didn't mind at all.

You sighed deeply, then thought of Matt.

"It's too late, is all," you said, ignoring the fact that, actually, even if you had been single, you still probably wouldn't have just accepted Eddie back into your life as easily. Even just as a friend, it was going to be difficult going for him.

"I know,"

You saw Eddie glance over your shoulder, no doubt to look at Matt. When he kept his eyes trained in the same direction for too long, you turned to look and saw Steve look at the two of you. His expression read a little confused, but didn't really say much else. Not to you anyway - you didn't know what had been going on behind your back before you turned around.

"Then again... is it?" Eddie whispered in your ear and then looked at you as he stepped back, let go of you entirely and took three steps backwards before turning on his heel and leaving the dance floor, and then, the solarium entirely. Eddie left you standing there alone, and you turned to look at Steve.

Steve, who, with big eyes, immediately mouthed 'no!' at you.

But you just shrugged, looked at Steve like you kind of had no other choice as your feet started following Eddie's footsteps.

Steve waved his arms to beckon you as discreetly as he could, inaudibly telling you to 'stop', and to 'come here', followed by 'we're grown ups!' but then Matt suddenly popped up next to him, and Steve proved once again that he was the best fucking friend you couldn't even have ever dreamed of asking for. Steve grabbed Matt by the shoulders, gave him a big smile, and engaged into conversation immediately as he turned him around, facing away from you, leaving you every opportunity to slip out and find Eddie.

You found Eddie at the bottom of the stairs in the grand lobby, which, thank fuck, was empty.

He held out his hand for you to grab, and when you did, wanted to leave through the main entrance, but you had a different idea.

"Upstairs,"

"Upstairs?"

"Upstairs."

You held onto Eddie's hand as you lead the way upstairs. Looking down the hallway from the landing, you saw a door that read 'Presidential Suite', and seconds later, you were stood in what was very obviously the bridal suite Jonathan and Nancy were going to be staying in that night. You were both staring at the four poster bed that was covered in rose petals.

"Maybe this isn't..." Eddie turned his head to look at you, and found you were already looking up at him.

"It definitely isn't..." you absolutely knew what he meant, but turned your body into him and snuck an arm into his jacket to curl around his waist.

Shit. You wanted Eddie. Sure, you'd been drinking, but not enough to be taken advantage of. You wanted Eddie, and you wanted him now.

"We might regret this," Eddie spoke softly, just above a whisper, but his nose was already nudging around yours. You couldn't manage a proper reply, but just let out a whimper that sounded enough like you agreed with him before you closed any distance left between the two of you and kissed him.

You kissed Eddie. Took hold of his face, pushed a hand into his hair, and you kissed him. Eddie wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you in tightly, but didn't move otherwise, and let you kiss him for however long you wanted.

Eddie could cry with how much he needed this, needed you, but didn't make any further moves. You'd been right earlier; the ball was in your court.

You hummed, moaned and panted into Eddie's mouth, let your tongue roam and teeth nibble and you loved every single second of it. You could kiss Eddie like this for hours, and you easily would have, but then, you felt his erection press up against you and suddenly, just kissing wasn't enough. With your mouth still on him, you moved a hand down to press a palm over him, and you felt him flinch. It broke your kiss, and you looked down at it.

Eddie did too.

You palmed him for a few seconds, unable to look away from it, heard how Eddie held his breath and then, you let out a shuddered breath of your own.

"Get on the bed."

Eddie didn't need telling twice. He crawled onto the bed, let himself flop against the pillows sat somewhat upright, and started undoing his pressed trousers as you got busy hiking up your dress at the foot of the bed. After sliding down your underwear and stepping out of them carefully, you climbed onto the bed and Eddie reached out with both arms to help you get on top of him.

Straddling Eddie, and with all lights in the room turned on, you got to look at Eddie's face crumble as you started moving, slowly writhing, sliding up and down. Eddie's hands were clasped onto your sides and both your hands made sure they stayed there. You cocked your head, like a puppy hearing a new sound it tried to figure out, and studied Eddie's face as his eyes rolled to the back of his head before he let his full head fall backwards against the curtained wall behind the pillows. Fascinating. A huge turn on. You couldn't help but dip down and kiss him, and Eddie immediately returned it, full forced, moaning and groaning as he did.

Eddie looked up at you when you broke away from him, and you felt his hands move, firm fingers now digging into your hips as you picked up your pace, and you swore you could see it in his eyes.

You won.

You deserved to win, and you’d won.

You were the focal point of Eddie’s whole world. Past, present, and future. The first and only choice. He’d follow you anywhere, he’d just proven it, just to be near you, to be with you.

You’d won, and you could feel it, looking into Eddie's eyes with your foreheads locked together. Your eyes fluttered shut as you bit your lip before you moaned, and it drove Eddie wild. 

You were having devastatingly romantic sex in a bridal suite not meant for you, with a man not meant for you. But you were strong. Made your own decisions. Decided how close you were going to let Eddie get. Chose to fuck him all on your own accord. You'd deal with repercussions later, if there'd even be any, because maybe, you wouldn't allow there to be any. That's how powerful you felt, and you deserved it, Eddie thought so too.

You rode Eddie until your legs cramped, then let Eddie hold you steady as he rammed into you until you saw stars. You toyed with the idea of not letting Eddie get there, but then decided you wanted to feel every single muscle of him shudder underneath you, and so you kept it up until Eddie saw stars too.

A panting puddle of limbs on silk - now wet - sheets, you took a moment to catch your breaths. Let Eddie hold you close. Whisper sweet nothings into your hair. Words that could make you cry if they weren't laced in guilt and shame. You let Eddie do whatever he felt he needed to do, because you didn't mind him fighting for it. You let him, until the pauses between his words drew longer. You let him, until the blinks of his eyes grew slower. You let him, until he'd completely drifted off into blissful dreams of soft kisses, tender touches and sweet smiles.

"Eddie, what the fuck?!"

"What are you doing up here?"

"Get out of here!"

Eddie was rudely awoken by the shrill voice of Nancy, and the very confused voice of Jonathan just a couple hours after he'd fallen asleep in their bed. They'd walked in on him with his dick in his boxers, thank God, but his trousers halfway down his legs still.

"What the..." is all Eddie managed to say in a groggy voice as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

"Eddie! Get out!" Nancy wasn't going to give him time to adjust and hit him with her bouquet of flowers that she was meant to keep safe, making Eddie roll away from her.

"What's this?" he heard Jonathan on the other side of the bed and saw him pick up a note from a pillow.

Eddie was quick to snatch it from him as he rolled off the bed and was chased into the hallway by Nancy, trying to pull his trousers up as he did.

She slammed the door loudly, making Eddie wince at the echoing sound. He did up his zipper and closed the button before turning his attention to the now crumpled up note in his hand. Eddie rubbed his face and blinked his eyes into focus more, turned the note so the words were no longer upside down. As he read the words you'd left him with, a grin slowly took over his face.

'Sure. Next week. Coffee. x'

It could mean nothing, Eddie knew. It could absolutely totally have zero meaning. But, then again, if Eddie dared let his mind wonder, it held every potential to mean everything.

-----

Read the final installment: Never Over

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[cyncerity]

Finally! The Store Shifter AU dad story!!

Holy shit this took so long, i’m still not fully satisfied with the ending but this story has been like genuinely over 5 months in the making so i’m leaving it as is. also this will need a part 2 so expect that hopefully in a shorter period of time than this one took!

guys this thing is like almost 5k words lol

tw vore: don’t like it don’t read it

“Bad, are you sure this is the best idea?” “Yes I’m sure, now be quiet, we’re almost there.”

Skeppy huffed, blowing a few loose strands of hair out of his face. Bad always got like this when they went on retrieval missions. The kind and funny (if not somewhat naïve) man he married buried beneath a stoic, focused outer shell. He couldn’t blame him, though. Humans were horrifying to be around, and if Bad felt like he needed to turn off everything to get them all out of there safely, so be it. Usually it was just the two of them, Skeppy and Bad against the world as it always seemed to be, but Sam was with them today. He’d been pretty silent through their walk, but Skeppy could sense the unease practically radiating off him. Sam was a builder, after all; he almost never went near humans. But, according to him, some homes in their colony had been damaged by storms and needed repair work that would be significantly easier with human tools.

So, here they were. Bad, Skeppy, and Sam, headed towards a human market. Skeppy had been fully opposed, but the hunt and crops had been poor at the colony, and their supplies likely wouldn’t be regrown until a few months from now if they were lucky. Bad suggested the human’s market, where he’d heard other borrowers say they’d seen humans come in with nothing and leave with bags full of god knows what. He was confident they’d be able to find the necessary rations there, and even if he was scared, he wouldn’t let Bad go to some human infested place without him. Then Sam had joined them and off they’d gone, promising the rest of the colony to be back in a day or two.

As they neared the market, Skeppy could see Bad tense. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed the slight crease of his brows, the minute shaking of his hands. That’s part of what made him a great leader for their colony; he was able to stay calm and collected no matter what. But having known him for so long, Skeppy could read him like an open book. He was scared. Sam, meanwhile, wasn’t even trying to hide it. He was quaking, clearly terrified of going into a space filled with creatures he knows could and likely would kill him if given the chance. Skeppy, honestly, was equally terrified. They almost never ventured this far into human society, and certainly never into human inhabited spaces. But, all for the good of the colony.

They approached the building and saw humans leaving the store, making Skeppy’s stomach turn in fear. He was sure that his fear was just as noticeable as Sam’s was, and he wasn’t sure how Bad was managing to keep his cool while him and Sam were panicking right next to him. But somehow, Bad pressed them forward, and they had little choice but to follow. They’d already made it this far, and like hell Skeppy was gonna back down and leave Bad to do this alone now.

They managed to get in the door right behind a human before scurrying back to the shadows for safety the second they entered the building, and holy shit was it bigger than he’d thought it was. There were dozens and dozens of rows one hundred times bigger than any one of them, even if they were small compared to the trees of the forest. “We’ll have to search from above,” Bad whispered quietly, breaking the unspoken vow of silence that the three had been following since nearing the shop. “Skeppy, lend me a rope. We can hoist each other up on each level.”

So, that they did. One of them would climb, then throw a rope for the other two to climb to meet them, only occasionally having to hide behind whatever human product was nearest to avoid being spotted. Thank god there weren’t as many humans in the place as he’d initially thought there would be. After a while, the three had made it to the top, overlooking pretty much the entire shop. Skeppy took note that most of the food they’d need was farther back in the store, unfortunately, but at least the platforms they stood on were close enough together that they could jump them. He also took note that a good number of humans were leaving, which was great for them, but also meant that night was likely coming soon, so they had to be fast. It wasn’t safe to travel the woods at night. Bad seemed to recognize this, as he gestured for Skeppy and Sam to follow him, leading them towards what they’d need. After a few more minutes of the three heading to the back, almost all the humans were gone except for a few in bright green vests. Skeppy reasoned that they were the ones who operated the place, if they all dressed the same and stayed when no one else did. But he wasn’t worried; what were the odds that the humans would look up to see them?

“Hey, Nick, you wanna head home early? You don’t look so good, I’m sure Dream wouldn’t mind.” Skeppy heard a human say. He knew it’d be best to stay back, but Skeppy was nothing if not stupidly impulsive. He leaned over the edge of the platform they’d been walking on, catching the attention of Bad and Sam too late to stop him. The human who had spoken was wearing a white sweater and gold chain with blonde hair and pale skin. He was talking to another human, “Nick” apparently, who was slumped over some boxes he was putting on a shelf, back turned to where the borrowers were. This one had a dark red hoodie and black beanie pulled over his head that almost matched the shade of his hair. The first human was right, though; if human body language read anything like a borrowers, this guy really wasn’t looking good. Nevertheless, he responded. “Hm? No, no, I’m fine, Punz, really.” He mumbled, barely looking up. The blonde one, “Punz,” didn’t look like he believed it for a second. “Bullshit. C’mere, let me take your temperature.” He said, pulling the other human to face him, and-

No.

No fucking way.

Skeppy could feel that Bad at this point had noticed his absence and had come over to drag him away from the conversation by force, but he shook himself free from his grip, eyes never leaving the scene in front of him. That was him. There’s no way it wasn’t. His hair was different, far different from the hazel brown he remembered, the same shade as his father’s, but it was him. He even had the discoloration around his eyes to prove it, the scar that had nicknamed him “Pandas” all those years ago. He looked older, much older, no longer the teen Skeppy remembered, and more tired. Worn down, even. He really did look sick.

Bad wasn’t letting go, and now Sam was trying to help him. Punz and Nick- no, Sapnap, he was sure of it- were still idly chatting below, Punz trying to convince Sapnap he needed to go and Sapnap insisting he was fine. At another insistent yank from Bad, Skeppy finally snapped, pulling away and grabbing Bad by the front of his hood, dragging his face close. “Bad,” he whispered as quietly as he could with tears threatening to spill from his eyes, “it’s our son.”

He saw Bad’s eyes light up for a moment before fear masked his expression. He looked down at Sapnap, who was now sat alone, staring at the ground. Punz must’ve left at some point without him noticing. Bad sat in stunned silence, and for once Skeppy couldn’t read his expression. An expression he could read, however, was Sam’s. He looked an odd mix of confused and mortified. Skeppy was confused at the odd reaction before it hit him; Sam didn’t know Sapnap was a shifter. “That’s Sapna-mph?!“ “Shh!!” Sam whisper yelled before Skeppy slapped a hand over his mouth. “Ok, i don’t know what he’s doing here but yes, it has to be. He can…do this. I mean, he can look human. But he’s not! It’s…it’s a long story, dude.” “I- He..what?? Bad, you knew about this?” Sam whisper yelled again, quieter. “…Yes.” Bad took a moment to answer, like it pained him to admit out loud that the ‘human’ down there was his own son. “How can…how long has he-“ Sam cut himself off as Sapnap’s head snapped up, revealing that his eyes were almost black with how large his pupils were. He looked out of it entirely. He looked…predatory.

Bad gasped, stumbling back from the edge of the platform he’d been watching from and fell to the ground, clutching his chest, unable to control his ragged breathing. Skeppy and Sam were immediately right there beside him, Sam trying to lead him through breathing exercises as quietly as possible as Skeppy asked him what was wrong. After a few moments, Bad managed to choke out words. “We- we need…to go. We..we need t- to go now.” “Why? What’s going on?” Skeppy asked. Before Bad could give any semblance of an answer, they heard boxes be knocked over. To curious for his own good, Skeppy went to see what it was, and Sam and Bad reluctantly followed.

Sapnap was stood again, back turned to the three as he looked up at one of the shelves near him. And there stood- “Alex?” Skeppy heard Sam whisper, hope full in his voice. Skeppy had almost forgotten that the day Sapnap ran away was the last time Sam had seen his own son. Quackity looked older, too. His hair was longer and he looked more well nourished and muscular than the scrawny, scrappy little boy Skeppy had watched grow up. He also still wore his stupid little bandana and the face covering Karl had made him after he’d got that gash through his mouth. But even with that mask on, Skeppy noticed the confusion and pity in his eyes as he looked at his boyfriend.

“Sapnap?” Quackity asked, but there was no response. He kept looking for a little bit before sighing and looking around. What for, Skeppy didn’t know, but what he did find was them. Skeppy saw Quackity’s eyes go wide as he noticed the three, and he looked horrified. Sam stood and waved, moving to say something before Quackity violently charaded to keep quiet. He then started to shoo them, and Bad immediately took the hint and tried to pull the both of them away, but Skeppy and Sam held their ground. “Why?” Sam said just barely loud enough for Quackity to hear across the aisle, but also loud enough for Sapnap to notice apparently, as he started to turn around towards them. “Just go!!” Quackity screamed, drawing Sapnap’s attention back to himself as his head snapped back. Quackity took a step forward about to yell something else before time froze.

Faster than he could blink, Sapnap had reached up and roughly grabbed Quackity off the shelf, holding him to his face for a short moment before stuffing him in his mouth. He could hear muffled yelling, too distant to make out any words, and could see indents of Quackity pushing against Sapnap’s cheeks trying to fight his way out. Bad was silent, ghastly white and completely unmoving, not even breathing, which left Skeppy to turn his attention away from the scene in front of him to keep Sam quiet. He quickly and forcefully wrapped his arm around his mouth and pulled him back, using his other hand to push Sam’s head into the crook of his elbow to muffle him. Sam was yelling and screaming; clawing, kicking, doing anything just to make Skeppy to let him go, but he endured it. It was all he could do to not think too heavily into what he’d just seen. There was no way Sapnap would…eat him. He’d watched Quackity and Sapnap grow up together. Before Karl came along, it’d really just been the two of them. They were best friends from the start, and early in their teenage years, it turned to something more. Sapnap cared more about Quackity than himself, he knew that for a fact. There had to be something he was missing here, right?

All at once, Sam fell silent. The screaming, kicking, everything stopped. Everything but his crying; Skeppy could feel his sleeve growing wet with tears. Maybe this was a good sign. Maybe Sapnap had spit him out, maybe it was all a prank, a joke, anything. Sapnap was raised by him and Bad, after all. He’d seen his fair share of trolling from his fathers. Sapnap couldn’t do this, he and Bad hadn’t raised a monster. This wasn’t happening. Everything was ok.

As he looked up, the sight ahead of him said otherwise.

Sapnap had his head tilted up, one hand lightly pressed on something- no, someone in his throat, while the other was holding something just outside his mouth; a tail. Quackity’s tail. Quackity was moving under the pressure; squirming, thrashing even, under Sapnap’s skin, yet the expression on his son’s face read nothing but bliss. Skeppy could even swear he saw drool seeping out of the corners of his smile. He couldn’t watch this. He couldn’t stay here and stand to see the boy he had raised, had loved his entire life, kill someone that Skeppy had thought he’d watched him grow to love. But he couldn’t move. He stood frozen, tears welling in his eyes and his body cold from fear with Sam limp and silently sobbing in his arms. Sam, poor Sam, who sat here watching his son be eaten alive not only by his previous future son-in-law, by his own best friends’ son. Bad, who’d been so silent that Skeppy had nearly forgotten he was here, barely seemed to be breathing. His only signs of life were the tears pouring down his face and the violent shaking that wracked his entire frame. He looked so scared Skeppy was surprised he was still standing.

The three of them watched in silent horror as finally, after what felt like hours, Sapnap let go of Quackity’s tail. They watched his form fall farther and farther down Sapnap’s throat little by little until finally his struggles had disappeared beneath his lover’s collar bones, sealing his fate. Sapnap dropped his head and sighed, the blissful, at peace expression he wore making Skeppy sick. He watched Sapnap seemingly subconsciously trace a line down his torso, no doubt following where Quackity was within his body, until he finally placed a palm on his stomach. And if there was any doubt (which at this point could only be chalked up to wishful thinking) as to what fate Quackity had truly met, it had all been dispelled as the three heard horrible, violent gurgling sounds coming from Sapnap’s stomach. Sapnap covered his whole midsection with his arm, face tinged pink in apparent embarrassment as he whipped his head side to side to make sure no one was around. Luckily for the three of them, he still didn’t think to look up. He blinked a few times before looking down at where his arm laid for a few seconds and subsequently sighing, rolling his eyes (which Skeppy belatedly realized were back to normal instead of the horrifying all consuming black). He began rubbing his stomach as a few more gurgles were heard and he pulled a little thin black box from his apron, tapping it a few times before holding it to his ear.

A few seconds of silence later, Sapnap was speaking. “Hey, Dream! Did Punz tell you I was sick? He said he was going off to find you like 10 minutes ago.” More silence. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine now. I think I just needed something to eat, if you know what I mean.” Skeppy’s heart skipped a beat hearing Sapnap so nonchalantly refer to his own species, to someone he loved, as food. “I’m just gonna go on break now if that’s ok. Could you meet me by the security office? I need you to help me, uh…get rid of something.” Another break. “Ok, sounds good, I’ll meet you then. Bye.” He said, tapping the black box again before slipping it back into a pocket and moving to leave the aisle. At that, Skeppy decided it was far past time to go. He went to grab Bad before realizing that he was fully unconscious, likely having passed out from fear. Sam, on the other hand, lay sobbing. Skeppy could do nothing but try to drag him to away, but ultimately failed. “Sam,” Skeppy whispered, voice cracking through tears and shivering, “We…we have to go.” “I failed.” he responded, not bothering to whisper since Sapnap was gone. “I failed as a father. I couldn’t save him. I- I couldn’t save them. Either of them.” He chocked out, tears pouring harder. Skeppy stood shocked; Sam rarely mentioned his other son anymore. It’d been so, so long since he’s been around that Skeppy (as much as it pained him to admit it to himself) had almost forgotten he existed completely. And didn’t that just make this all the more sad; Sam didn’t deserve to lose another kid. He didn’t deserve to have these old scars ripped back open again. “You couldn’t have known.” Skeppy said, sitting down beside him. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. I…I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Sam.”

Skeppy wasn’t sure why he felt the need to apologize, but in some way, this felt like his fault. Sapnap was his son. What had he done wrong? How long had Sapnap been planning to do this? What would Karl say if he saw this? Is Karl even still alive, or did Sapnap get to him first? How were they gonna tell Tina that her younger brother got killed by his fiancé, of all people?

Skeppy was only snapped out of it when a hand rested on his own, and he turned to see Sam looking at him. His tear-stained expression held no anger, no contempt for the man who had raised the person to have just killed his son, just…pity and sadness. Sam didn’t hate him. Sam felt…sorry for him. Sorry that his son had turned out like this after so many years being away from home. Sorry that the boy who they’d both loved growing up was gone, twisted into a psychopath and cannibal. In a way, they’d both lost their kids today. Skeppy couldn’t do anything but break down, clinging to Sam and sobbing as he finally processed everything that he’d seen today. Sam just hugged back tightly, like Skeppy was his only lifeline, and sobbed with him.

“We should get going.” Sam sighed after what felt like hours. “We need to help Bad, and I’m sure the others are wondering why we’re not back yet.” Skeppy, still numb, just nodded and helped sling one of Bad’s unconscious arms over his shoulder while Sam took another. The walk back to where they had come from was silent, neither of them willing to bring up the fact that they hadn’t actually retrieved any supplies and the whole trip was kinda pointless, but were met with a sight that neither had been expecting.

The doors were tied shut with chains. They couldn’t get out.

They were stuck there till morning.

~~~~~

Sapnap sat in the break room fiddling with his phone when he saw Dream come in, twirling a set of keys on his finger. “You said you needed access to the security room?” “‘Bout time.” Sapnap responded sarcastically, standing up off the beanbag chair with a hand over his stomach to keep the extra weight in his gut from swaying as he moved. Seriously, no matter how many times or how often he’d done this, he was never going to get used to it, was he? “Sorry I needed to lock up the store, asshole.” Dream replied, leading him out of the room to the security office down the hall. “Ranboo is staying at my place tonight so Tom and Tubbo aren’t alone, so I had to lock up from inside today cause someone invited me to stay the night to work on parkour stuff.” “Don’t pin this on me, I’m being nice to you for once.” Sapnap replied, lightly elbowing Dream as he tried to unlock the door and messing him up. Dream flipped him off without even moving his vision away from the lock before getting back to work. “Are you at the security office yet?” Quackity asked, startling Sapnap which in turn startled Dream, who gave him an odd look. Sapnap just pointed to his stomach and Dream rolled his eyes and went back to work on the lock.

“Yeah, we are. Holy shit, dude, you scared the fuck outta me, I thought you were asleep. You haven’t said anything like this entire time.” “I couldn’t fall asleep. Something…something happened, man.” “…Well that doesn’t sound ominous at all. What kinda something? Something bad?? Are you ok, did I do something?” “I’m fine!” Quackity quickly responded, picking up on his fiancé’s nervous tone. “It’s just…well I don’t know yet. You’ll be able to see for yourself on the video camera. I don’t want to freak you out if it’s nothing.” Sapnap went to ask what that meant before Dream finally managed to open the door with a little cheer of celebration. He ushered Sapnap in as he started to log into the camera’s system.

“Ok, so can you tell me what happened?” Dream questioned. “It’s been a while since I did the instinct thing, so I guess I looked kinda sickly, so Punz ran to get you. After that I started to feel nauseous and sat down and passed out. When I woke up again, Quackity was in here and I felt a lot better. I think my instincts just fully took over so I wasn’t conscious, like, at all. I figured I would see what exactly happened and then delete the footage so no one else could see me lose it.” Dream nodded. “Yeah, I figured that’s what you meant by ‘needed something to eat.’ Kinda also figured that instincts had something to do with why Punz said you looked sick, so I asked Quackity to go and look for you.” Sapnap vaguely heard Quackity confirm what Dream had said. “Oh, thanks dude.” “No problem. Now, where and when was this again?”

Sapnap gave a few more specifications on what had happened, and at this point he could feel Quackity nervously pacing in his gut, which felt…weird, to say the least. “Quackity, dude, are you ok? You never move this much in there, it’s kinda freaking me out. And it feels weird.” “Sorry.” He heard as he felt Quackity drop back down to sit, almost immediately starting to tap his foot. “You’re nervous about something.” “No I’m-“ “You’re sitting with your eye sockets pressed into your knees while tapping your foot. I’ve known you my entire life, I don’t need to be able to see you to know what you’re doing. You only do that when you’re really anxious, what’s up?” “Like I said, you’ll see on the video.” Sapnap was about to respond again, but was agin cut off by Dream. “Found it! Oh shit, yeah, you look really out of it, I’m surprised you made it as long as y- what the fuck is that??” That bit caught Sapnap’s attention. He moved closer to the tv and noticed what Dream was questioning: on the grainy monitor, there were 3 small silhouettes on top of an aisle in front of Sapnap. “Are those…borrowers?” Dream asked, looking over to Sapnap. “They have to be. What the hell are more borrowers doing in the store? Q, is this what you were worried about?” “…Mostly.” Quackity responded, and Sapnap nodded to Dream so he could follow along. “…fast forward, see if you can tell when they leave.” Sapnap relayed the request to Dream, who did as he asked.

“Oh no…” Sapnap whispered. “What?” Dream asked, but Quackity was apparently more than aware of the issue. “They didn’t listen, did they? They didn’t go when I told them too?” “No, no they didn’t…” Sapnap whispered again, in shock. He felt Quackity stand and start to pace again, but this time couldn’t care to correct it. “What? Who didn’t what?” Dream asked. “The borrowers on the aisle. Quackity was signaling for them to leave so they wouldn’t see me do..that, but they didn’t. They’re seeing everything.” Sapnap gestured back up to the screen, where at this point he could see Quackity entering his throat and the borrowers backing up, one even kicking and fighting another to do something. “Well…thats not good, but it can’t be that bad, right? I mean, what are the odds you’ll ever see them again? I mean, sure they can tell a colony about a human that ate a borrower, but you guys have always kinda been under the impression we did that anyway, right? At the absolute worst, they’ll have another horror story to get kids to bed on time.” “Dream, I just traumatized 3 random borrowers for life.” “I was under the impression you were all just kinda traumatized from shit in general, is this really that much worse?” “Sapnap, tell him to shut up.” Quackity interrupted. Sapnap obliged by smacking a hand over Dream’s mouth and putting a finger over his own lips. “…I need you to let me out.” Sapnap looked confused for a moment. Quackity had only been in there for a few hours; normally when this happened he would just stay the night since it was more of a hassle to get dry and clean just to put on pjs. Something was wrong, still, Sapnap would never hold the man he loved against his will.

Sapnap quickly brought him up, placing a hand under his mouth as Quackity climbed out. Quackity’s head snapped immediately to the security footage. At this point, Sapnap could see himself finally swallow Quackity down, and the 3 borrowers react accordingly with varying levels or fear and distress. One of them even went unconscious. Quackity watched with a look of worry that made Sapnap anxious; in all the years he’d known Quackity, he’d never seen him like this. Why was he this worried? He barely registered that in the video he had regained control, only focused on what could have caused the fear in his fiancé’s eyes.

Until one of the borrowers turned enough for their face to be seen in the camera.

That…that was his dad. That was Skeppy, holding onto someone who had to be Sam. His other dad was taller than that. That means that the last one, the borrower who’d passed out when Sapnap had swallowed Quackity was…

Sapnap felt his breath speed up. He quickly set Quackity down on the desk as he clutched a hand to his chest and his vision started to blur. “Sap?” Dream questioned, hands hovering around him in concern, “Sapnap are you ok??” “That’s…Those are…” He couldn’t get the words out. Fuck. No, fuck, god no, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go, they weren’t supposed to know, they weren’t supposed to ever see him again but now they knew everything.

They knew he was a monster.

“…those are our dads.” Quackity whispered, barely audible as dreams eyes widened. “The one crying is my dad, the other two are Sapnap’s.”

[1800-fight-me]

Burnt Pancakes

Miguel O’hara x Female!Reader 

Rating: M (Mature)- as a general rule for my blog, minors please do not interact!

Warnings: This fic contains life threatening situations, angst, heavy making out, and allusions to sex. Also protective!Miguel should probably be his own warning...

Word count: About 1.4k 

Synopsis: You almost died last night, but your lover Spider-man was there to save you, and is now helping you through the emotional turmoil of a near-death experience. 

Author’s note: My first Miguel fic! I was not going to write for him but I am not immune to the hugely muscular grumpy dilf voiced by Oscar Isaac.... more fics might come... I am open to requests if anyone has other ideas they’d like me to write for him!

Important announcement!! I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Your lungs were tight as you attempted to breathe in but the rapid speed at which you were falling took it all away. Your throat was raw and dry from screaming.  But you couldn’t stop, no you couldn’t stop. 

You were falling to your death from a hundred stories up. Nueva York was getting closer and closer as you fell at what had to be at least eighty miles an hour. 

You briefly worried that you would make a disgusting splatter on the pavement for someone to clean up. 

You continued screaming, it wasn’t a wordless scream, however. 

It was his name, over and over and over again. 

Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?? 

Tears streamed down your cheeks and you felt absolutely gutted that he wasn’t here to save you. 

You thought he loved you. 

He promised he would always be there to save you. To hold you. To protect you. 

There. You gasped in relief as a spot of navy blue with splotches of red appeared in the sky above you. 

He was here. Almost all the fear left your body immediately at the sight. 

He would save you. 

Reddish-orange web shot out and reached towards you, and your eyes widened as you realized he was too far away. 

The web couldn’t reach you fast enough and the ground was too close. You stared at him, the love of your life, as your body hit the ground. 

He was the last thing you saw, and you didn’t even get to see his face again, just the mask. 

You gasped as you sat straight up in bed. Sweat covered your body and tears flowed freely down your cheeks. 

“Miguel!” you choked out as you reached across the bed and felt cold sheets. 

“¿Qué pasó?” he called out as he ran into your room, shirtless with sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a spatula in one hand, and claws out to protect you from the invisible threat on his other hand. 

His expression softened and his panic lifted as he saw you sitting safely in bed, but with tears in your eyes. 

“I… it was just a dream,” you finally said as he dropped the spatula and pulled you out of the bed and up into his arms. 

You nuzzled your face into his neck and settled your breathing. 

You melted into his strong embrace, and the feel of his warm skin against yours set your nerves at ease. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked. 

You took a shuddering breath. 

“It was about last night,” you said weakly. 

He hummed, an indication for you to continue, as he rubbed his large hand up and down the length of your spine. 

He might be a superhero who was used to being in constant danger, but you certainly weren’t. And the threat to your life you experienced the night before was terrifying. 

“You’re safe. I’ve got you. I promise,” he murmured. 

The tears began again. 

“I know,” you gasped. “My dream…. it rewrote yesterday and-and you didn’t catch me in the dream.” 

He made a soft sympathetic sound even as he frowned. 

“Do you remember what I told you last night?” 

He said as he pulled you back enough to look into your eyes. 

You drowned in the deep crimson of his gaze. 

You nodded. 

“Say it,” he encouraged gently. 

“I’m yours,” you said. 

“Mhmm. And I will always protect you,” he promised again. 

You believed him. Just as you did last night when he stood with you in the shower and washed the whole ordeal off your body. 

And you believed him when he pressed his plush lips across every inch of your skin and imprinted his promise on you. And you believed him when you became desperate for him to make you his, to show you, and he filled you until you couldn’t remember anything but his name. Until you were safe and sated in his arms and lulled into sleep. 

You believed him. Of course you believed him. So you weren’t sure why your unconscious mind conjured such a horrible scenario. 

“Lo sé,” you whispered. 

He leaned down and kissed your tears away one by one. 

“I love you,” you said, your bottom lip trembling until you pulled his lips to yours. 

It wasn’t a soft kiss. It was hungry and needy and overwhelming. It was exactly what you needed. 

He let you lead the kiss as you wrapped your arms and legs around him. His hands slid from your waist to grab at the flesh of your thighs and your ass. 

He groaned as you gripped his hair and you used the opportunity to slip your tongue against his. 

You whimpered at the taste of him and he gripped you tighter. 

“Preciosa, you know I love you too,” he said as he pulled back enough to whisper the words on your lips. 

“Mmm,” you hummed as he guided you to tilt your head back to give him access to your neck. 

He trailed his lips up and down your sensitive skin until you shivered. 

You gripped the strong muscles of his broad shoulders. 

“Make me yours again, mi amor,” you begged. 

His fangs grazed your neck and you moaned in anticipation, prepared for him to bite down, to give you the kind of pain that only amplified pleasure. 

You wanted to be connected with him in every conceivable way. 

The fire alarm blared loud enough that he grunted and you jerked back. 

You looked at him with wide eyes until his lips began to curve upwards and you started to laugh. He dropped you suddenly back down onto the bed before he rushed to the kitchen to take the burnt breakfast off the stove. 

You sighed as you flopped down onto your back and listened to Miguel’s mumbled curses as he put out the small fire and aired your small apartment out, getting rid of the smoke. 

It filled you with a glimmer of pride that even with his heightened senses, he was so consumed by you that he did not notice the burning food in the next room. 

It made your heart feel like it was going to burst when you thought of the unexpectedly gentle way the gruff superhero took care of you. 

You grabbed his shirt off the floor next to the bed and slipped it over your head, smiling slightly as it enveloped you completely, smelling like him, and fell nearly to your knees. 

You took care of your needs in the bathroom before you walked the five steps into the small kitchen. 

“You should try cooking more often,” you teased and he looked over his shoulder to glare at you. 

You unsuccessfully attempted to stifle your giggle. 

“C’mere,” he said as he practically pounced on you and pulled you into his strong arms. His large body enveloped you completely. 

You squealed as he hauled you up and against him before he lifted you up and sat you down on the counter. He ran his hands up your thighs, humming in satisfaction as he pushed the shirt up to gain more access to your skin. 

“Y’know, I have an apron you can wear next time so you don’t get flour on those rippling muscles,” you said as you ran your hands across his chest and abs under the pretense of wiping it away and he rolled his eyes. 

“The pancakes didn’t survive,” he said, in a deadpan tone, as reached beside you and slid a bowl of fruit towards you. 

You smirked at the twinkle in his eyes as you popped a strawberry into your mouth. 

“Gracias, It’s still a perfect breakfast, guapo,” you said and pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek. 

“Ay dios mio, tu eres…” he started in a pretend annoyed tone. 

“The best girlfriend ever?” you finished his sentence with a wink. 

“El amor de mi vida,” he practically purred as he pulled you into another kiss. 

Your toes curled as he kissed you deeply, intimately, and with such care and devotion you wanted to cry all over again. 

As you gripped him tight, you felt settled, warm, and completely at ease. You felt safe, protected, in your lover’s arms and you knew that no matter what you faced together due to his superhero identity, you would be together and he would always take care of you. 

[twinki3zs]

A few years ago, I read a Luca fanfiction on Wattpad titled Sink Or Swim, and let me just say, it's officially the 2nd Luca movie in my eyes. It is honestly one of the best fanfics I've ever read.

In my opinion, most fan fiction I've read doesn't feel like the show and/or movie. What I mean is it doesn't give me the same vibe, when I read it I don't picture it as something that could happen, but something that they wish could happen.

Of course, I know that the idea of a fan fiction isn't that everything should be 100% accurate, and I get that, but most of the time, everything just feels so out of character to the point where the only resemblance I see between the fanfic and the show and/or movie are the characters.

But even then, sometimes the characters just don't seem like themselves. I can understand if you're new to a Fandom or if the fanfic is supposed to be an AU where the characters are supposed to act differently, but if not, I just find it a little hard to read.

I'm not trying to make anyone who does this feel bad at all, but when I find a fanfic with a few or all the characters acting differently I just find it a little hard to believe or imagine it happening.

When I first read Sink Or Swim, it truly felt like I was reading the script for a second movie. It is so beautifully written, full of life and creativity, so much so that I couldn't stop at the first chapter.

The plot is so creative and original, truly the perfect hook. The plot is, (and I quote)

"After a whole school year, Luca and Giulia are finally returning to Portorroso. During those nine months, Luca had developed a super-huge-enormous secret, and he's written about it dozens of times in his daily journal. He takes it home, determined to hide the contents from everyone–especially Alberto. But Alberto is stubborn, and as soon as he suspects something is fishy, he won't let up.

Wanna know the worst part?

They're sharing a bedroom."

Really makes you want to read, doesn't it?

I love how the fanfic follows the same principles as any book and/or movie. The sequence of events lines up perfectly with each other and you can understand how and why something is happening.

It has so much feeling and you can really visualize it happening. Leah made sure to keep the same dynamic that the characters have in the movie, everything they say and do actually feels like some they’d say and do.

I love how she made it feel like you’re reading a movie and the different point of views make for perfect dramatic irony. This story is wholesome, heartwarming, funny, sad, delightful, and most importantly, Luberto 😌.

I don’t think I’ll ever find a Luca fan fiction that can top Sink or Swim.

@toffee-to-be you’ve created a masterpiece.

[lunehong]

Tethered

college student! Jongho X college student! fem oc

Soulmate AU, just cuteness and fluff

warnings : mentions of anxiety, illness, pregnancy.

word count : 6.9k

synopsis : what happens when your soulmate bond is finally activated but it doesn't fall under any of the existing types? Jongho and Yunhee try to establish their connection with no clue and minimal examples to follow. Would they succeed in meeting each other and seal the bond or would they fall gradually ill?

a/n : okay so my first ever oneshot, and I'm glad I could write one for our baby bear jjong cuz there aren't many jongho fics on here PLUS I miss him so much :(( I hope he's recovering well and also his birthday is coming up next month! feedback is always appreciated!

----- A reblog would mean the world to me <33 ------

Yesterday was Yunhee’s 18th birthday, which meant that she was finally an adult according to society’s standards. It also meant that she could watch netflix shows that were adult rated without feeling guilty about her age and of course, call chronically online minors out on their behaviour as someone who’d automatically be deemed more mature and responsible.

However, this also entailed that her soulmate bond was activated. 

Yunhee did feel a tingly sensation and the butterflies in her stomach like the others said she would, but after that everything went back to normal. No tattoos were etched onto her body, nor did she see a flash of her soulmate’s face in her mind and there was no response when she thought of a bunch of things to test if they had telepathy. 

She really didn’t know what went wrong but it made her anxious. Also the fact that she had no way of knowing if something happened to her soulmate, as their soulmate bond was still unidentified. 

“You should really calm down, Yunhee.” said Minha, her best friend of 7 years. 

“What if I don’t find him soon enough? We have to meet each other as soon as possible after our soulmate bond has been activated or else we’d both gradually fall ill! Don’t you remember what happened to Nina and her boyfriend?” Yunhee muttered anxiously. 

“It has only been a day! I don’t understand why you’re panicking so much. Give it a week and if there’s still nothing after that, then we can panic.” She concluded.

Taking her best friend’s advice, Yunhee decided to leave the matters into her soulmate’s hands, thinking if she was frantically trying out different confirmation methods, it was safe to assume that he was also doing the same. 

“Dude, I’m telling you, your soulmate bond is telepathy! There isn’t any other type that matches!”  Wooyoung exclaimed, while flailing his hands around to prove his point. 

“But I haven’t heard anything from my soulmate so far! Nor do I know if the things I thought reached her!” Jongho yelled back. 

“Okay… Well, try again later! Don’t give up on this, because I’m a hundred percent sure it’s telepathy of some sort even if it isn’t the common one.” Wooyoung got up to leave. 

“How are you so sure? Are you a soulmate specialist or something?” Jongho scoffed at him. 

Wooyoung smiled at that. “Remember how my soulmate bond was telepathy?” Jongho nodded, “I never told anyone this but, mine wasn’t your typical telepathy… It was one-sided.”

“What? No way!” Jongho stared at him in disbelief.

“Yes, our bond was such that I couldn’t hear anything from her but she could hear everything I thought about. I was ready to give up when I got this idea and decided to give it a last shot.” Wooyoung continued.

“What did you do?” Jongho asked.

“I sat down and started revealing my full name, my social media handles, my address and other details in my head, so if there really was anyone listening they’d know how to find me. She showed up on my doorstep with my favourite snacks not long after. The rest is history.” Wooyoung grinned while recalling the memory. 

“How the hell did we not know this before? It’s literally a story worth telling!” 

“Yes, I’m aware but the topic never came up and I can’t just randomly reveal that my soulmate bond was flawed you know?” Wooyoung tried to reason with Jongho. 

“Okay, fine I got it. I’ll try thinking of different things and hope it’ll reach my soulmate somehow” Jongho sighed, giving in.

“That’s the spirit! Let me and the other guys know if you feel anything and I’ll see you later. Bye!” 

Jongho headed to bed early that day, feeling exhausted. As he was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, an idea came to him. ‘What if I focus on one topic to think about instead of multiple things at once? It might be a more organised approach and less strenuous for my brain.’ 

So he sat up and started consciously thinking about one topic, but phrased them in various ways. 

‘What is your name?’ He waited a bit but there wasn’t a response. 

“At least I know this won't work,” he said out loud. 

‘Can you tell me your name?’

 No response.

“Okay, that’s crossed out too then. How else can I phrase it…”

 If anyone saw him then, they’d think he had gone mad by the way he was talking to himself.

‘Could you speak your name?’

‘Could you spell your name?’

‘Could you trace your name on your hand?’

Jongho tried phrasing it as many ways as he could, even if some sounded ridiculous. 

‘Telleth me thy name.’

 He paused before laughing at himself. 

“So, Shakespearean English is crossed out too it seems.” 

When he ran out of all the ‘tell’, ‘spell’, ‘speak’ and ‘think’ questions he took a different route. 

‘Can you write your name?’

No response. 

Jongho yawned, feeling sleepy. Lying back down on the bed, he tried thinking of a few more sentences before deciding to continue again the next day. 

‘Could you write your name on paper?’ 

No response. 

“Okay, then” he said.

‘Write your name down on paper for me please?’ 

He paused, just about to fall asleep. 

That was when the most unexpected thing happened to him.

Yunhee was tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep. She had just finished her college assignment, due the next day and all the stress she took for it made her extremely tired. 

Assuming sleep would come easy to her, she finished her nighttime routine and headed to bed. But alas, sleep was nowhere to be found. It was one of those days where her body was tired but her mind was wide awake and she despised when that happened because it meant that she would not be able to fall asleep anytime soon. 

She started counting sheep in her head as a last resort.

 When she was on her 29th sheep, Yunhee heard something resonate in her head. The first noise sounded like an incoherent crackle and she almost dismissed it as her mind playing tricks, when she clearly heard a soothing male voice telling her to write her name on paper. 

She sat up on her bed abruptly and tried to reach out to the guy, but to no avail. Her heart was beating very fast at the prospect of finally receiving a telepathic message. She was able to hear her soulmate’s voice and it was a feeling like no other. 

After waiting a bit, she decided to do what the voice told her to: write her name on paper. 

Yunhee got up, retrieving her notebook and a pen from the desk. Sitting back down on the bed once again, she opened the notebook to an empty page and scribbled her name on it. She also wrote “What is your name?” underneath.

She waited for a bit in case another message came through but there were no other responses. 

Yunhee was completely unable to sleep that night. 

Jongho couldn’t believe what he just saw. It was like a flash that only lasted for a few seconds, but he saw a vision through someone else’s eyes. He saw a hand pick up a light blue notebook with the words “hakuna matata” written in a corner with golden ink. The hand also picked up a pen and wrote down something in the notebook. What it wrote, Jongho couldn’t make out because the writing became hazy and blurry. He could only read out ‘Park’ and the writing underneath that said ‘what is your name?’.

He was sure the person wrote her name down but he could only read her surname. 

Jongho felt something unexplainable in his gut. He was finally able to reach his soulmate, even though he couldn’t see her name. Thinking about the vision brought out a sense of longing inside him. He wanted to see more, feel more and know more about her, but he didn’t yet know how.

 ‘At least this is progress’ he thought. ‘I need to tell the others about this and figure out what I should do next.’

The doorbell rang but the sound went unheard by the group of guys inside the apartment. The person standing outside got impatient after a while, and had to bang on the door to gain everyone’s attention. 

“Geez, Hongjoong-hyung why are you banging on the door like that? The bell exists for a reason.” Wooyoung tsked while opening the door for him.

“I rang the bell like 10 times already! None of you brats could hear it over the noise pollution! I swear y’all can be heard from down the hallway!” Hongjoong yelled at him. 

“Cut us some slack though, Hongjoong. We met up after almost a month!” Seonghwa reasoned with him. 

The seven guys excluding Jongho made themselves comfortable in Jongho’s living room, catching up with each other. Meanwhile, the resident of the apartment arranged some refreshments for the eight of them, bringing them over to the living area before plopping down between Yeosang and Mingi. 

“So let’s come to the reason why I called you guys here–” 

“You called us for a reason!?” San fake gasped. 

“You wouldn’t have invited us if you didn’t have a use for us!?” Yunho butted in. 

“Guys let the poor boy speak! I can kinda guess what it’s about.” Wooyoung tried to defend Jongho. 

“Yes, thank you Wooyoung-hyung. The reason why I called you here is because I was able to contact my soulmate yesterday and I still don’t know what type of bond this is.” 

At the revelation, everyone started yelling over each other and asking questions, of which Jongho was unable to decipher a single sentence.

The seven looked like a bunch of chattering baby birds that wanted food from its mother. He sighed and shook his head, thinking how the people in front of him were supposed to be older in age. 

“Guys, one at a time!” he yelled. 

“Okay, so it’s telepathy right?” Wooyoung asked.

“Yes and no.” Jongho paused to sort out what he wanted to say, “It’s telepathy, yes, because I consciously thought of something and it went through. But, only one kind of conscious thought out of all the other ones I tried to send, elicited a response.”

“That’s…weird?” Hongjoong muttered. 

“And not just that, hyung. The response I received was in the form of a glimpse, showing me a vision through my soulmate’s eyes!”

“What?” exclaimed Mingi.

“So, it’s not just telepathy, it’s specific and supposedly one sided, while you receive sporadic glimpses through your soulmate’s eyes. That’s a very odd combination.” Wooyoung said, in deep thought. 

“This is more complicated than yours was, hyung.” Jongho muttered.

“What do you mean?” Yeosang questioned, being able to hear what he said. 

Jongho proceeded to tell them all the details regarding what he thought and what he saw in the glimpse, meanwhile not forgetting to expose Wooyoung and how he hid such crucial information about his own experience. The rest reprimanded Wooyoung for it, making him sulk, but they also collectively tried to figure out exactly how the bond worked. 

“What happened!” Minha burst into Yunhee’s place, panting like she just ran a marathon. 

“Why hello there best friend, why do you look as if you got chased by a dog?” Hayoon, their other best friend, asked sarcastically. 

“Dude? I came here as fast as I could! I got Yunhee’s text a while ago that said ‘EMERGENCY’ in all caps! I thought some code blue shit happened to her!” Minha exclaimed.

“Wow, and I thought the text I received was bad… she sent, ‘come over, I have something to say’ that made me rush here because I thought she was pregnant or something, which would’ve been really bad considering her soulmate bond just activated.” Hayoon laughed. 

At that very moment, Yunhee walked in with tubs of ice cream, suddenly feeling like she entered a lion’s den. The two girls yelled at her for being so dramatic over nothing but calmed down once she handed them their favourite ice cream. 

“So, the reason I sent those ‘dramatic’ texts as you two so eloquently put it, is because I got contacted by my soulmate and I freaked out.” Yunhee revealed while rolling her eyes.

“What?” Minha yelled. 

“When? How?” Hayoon followed. 

“At night yesterday! I was trying to sleep after finishing the assignment and that’s when I heard his voice in my head telling me to write my name on paper. I don’t know why that was so specific but yeah I did as he said.” 

“Did you hear anything in return?” Hayoon inquired.

“No, unfortunately. That was the only thing that came through.” Yunhee sulked. 

“But hey! You got contacted by your soulmate! So we are sure that nothing happened to him and he’s probably trying to figure out how the bond works as well right?” Minha tried to cheer her up like the mom she was, unable to see her kid sad.

“Yeah, that’s true. I hope he figures it out though because I’m at a dead end here.” 

“I’m sure he’ll figure it out! We currently have nothing to do but trust him and cheer him on. So don’t stress too much, Yuns. Stay alert and just wait for him to make the connection again.” Hayoon exclaimed, in a cheery voice. 

“Exactly! Let’s trust him on this one and we can think more about it when he manages to contact you again. Meanwhile, tell us how he sounded! What did you feel?” Minha shook Yunhee in excitement. 

So, the three girls spent the rest of their time discussing the interaction and other’s soulmate experiences while they enjoyed their ice cream.

Jongho recalled the conversation that he had with the guys earlier, who managed to come up with a few hypothetical situations for him to experiment. 

He sat down on his desk with a notebook before him, taking notes like he would for a science class. The guys did have a few different ideas but Hongjoong’s idea made the most sense to Jongho. 

Hongjoong proposed that the message that went through was a command rather than a suggestion or a question. And what Jongho received as a glimpse was the completion of said task that got sent as a command. 

So what Jongho had to do was make his soulmate do tasks for him and if it worked out every time, then eventually find a way for them to meet face to face. 

He relaxed himself and thought of a task for her to do. 

“Okay, so I know that I’d probably not be able to know her name or see what she looks like through the bond so I can’t ask anything related to that.” He spoke out loud. 

After thinking for a while, Jongho got an idea. He decided to send his soulmate to her favourite cafe and order her favourite drink. In this way he’ll be able to figure out which cafe she frequented and what drink she liked as well. 

‘Go to your favourite cafe and order your favourite drink first thing in the morning.’ He thought, hoping that his soulmate heard it. 

“Did it sound too rude? But I can’t send anything other than a command and commands don’t particularly sound nice though.” He spoke to himself again while scratching his head.

Before he could overthink more, Jongho wrote down what he said and headed to bed as he had classes to attend the next day. 

Taking a last minute impulsive decision, Minha and Hayoon chose to stay the night at Yunhee’s house. The three slept over at each other’s places quite often, making it a regular occurrence in their lives. Yunhee let her mother know about it and she told her to grab the extra mattress that they had for such occasions. 

While she was dragging the mattress to her room, she heard a crackle resonate in her mind like the last time. Yunhee dropped the mattress, focusing intently to see if her soulmate’s voice came through. 

Minha was walking back with a glass of water when she spotted her by the living room standing as if she saw a ghost while the mattress was abandoned on the floor.

“Yuns, what happened–” 

“Shush! I think I’m getting another message.” Yunhee quickly cut her off. 

Indeed, the soothing voice she heard the first time spoke to her again, making the darn butterflies in her stomach return to torment her. She unconsciously smiled, the emotions that hearing her soulmate’s voice evoked in her being all very new. 

Minha stared at her from the side, relating with the lovesick look on her friend’s face all too well. 

“Go to your favourite cafe… and order your favourite drink first thing in the morning?” Yunhee repeated what her soulmate said to her out loud. She looked at Minha, tilting her head in obvious confusion.  

“That’s what he said?” Minha looked equally perplexed. 

“What is taking you two so long– why are y’all standing there with the mattress on the floor?” Hayoon came out of her room to check on the two. 

Minha told her what happened while they dragged the mattress to Yunhee’s room. They sat down to think why her soulmate would send in yet another oddly specific message asking her to do something. 

“You know what I think?” Hayoon said in a serious tone, unlike her usual carefree demeanour, “The only form of message he can send are the ones that tell Yunhee to do something. ‘Cause think about it! He probably already tried saying the common stuff like ‘what is your name’ or ‘where do you live’ like we telepathy types did, but in our case all the things we tried to send went through.” 

 Yunhee and Minha looked at each other for a few seconds before directing their attention back to Hayoon, who was raising her eyebrows at them. 

“Wow dude, what’s up with you? You’re actually making sense today!” Yunhee exclaimed with fake enthusiasm while patting Hayoon on the shoulder, who rolled her eyes and pointed her middle finger towards Yunhee in return.

“Yeah! But Yoon’s right. Can’t relate though, ‘cause I was the tattoo type but she has a point. And I also think that he can somehow sense if you have done the given task or not or else he wouldn’t have any way of knowing if his messages are going through.” Minha added while laughing at Hayoon.

“I mean, the task is simple enough. I do visit cafe Aurora before heading to class anyway, so it won’t be anything out of the ordinary, I guess.” Yunhee muttered. 

The three girls started their movie marathon, when Minha’s phone rang. It was a facetime call from her soulmate Changbin, who was also their childhood friend since middle school. 

When Minha turned 18, which was three months back, she invited all her friends to attend the party, including Changbin. He was out of town that week so he couldn’t attend her birthday party. 

The tattoo that appeared on Minha’s wrist was supposed to be the first thing her soulmate told her after it was activated, which said, “Happy birthday! Sorry I couldn’t make it, Min.” 

 Minha looked absolutely bewildered while Yunhee and Hayoon laughed at it like maniacs. She got teased by the other two the entire day, while she tried to appear nonchalant about it. 

When they were younger, Minha never liked the concept of soulmates and always complained about the idea of getting paired up with a complete stranger for the rest of their lives as it seemed unnerving to her. But when she realised that her soulmate might be good old Changbin, she didn’t hate the idea anymore. It was true that Minha never saw him as anything more than a friend but he was an amazing guy and she did think he’d make a good partner. 

At night she received a call from him and indeed, the first thing he said was “Happy birthday! Sorry I couldn’t make it, Min.” 

Minha laughed and said, “Thanks, idiot.” when it dawned upon Changbin as well that his soulmate was none other than Minha.

 They met up when Changbin returned (he basically scrambled to return as fast as he could) and made it official.

 Among Yunhee’s friends, Minha and Changbin were probably the fastest soulmates to seal the bond which made a lot of them jealous because of how easy it was for them to find each other. 

Back to the present, Changbin facetimed Minha who received the call. 

“Hey Min, are you staying over at Yunhee’s today?” 

“Yep. Sudden decision.”

“Oh okay, have fun! And pass the phone to Yunhee please.” Changbin spoke. 

Yunhee peeked from the back and waved at him. 

“You! What were you thinking when you sent a text like that, dumbass? Who sends ‘EMERGENCY’ and dips without explaining what happened?” He exclaimed.

“Ugh, okay fine sorry. I won’t send texts like that again. I got nagged enough by these two, I don’t need you to add anything to it, Binnie.” Yunhee whined. 

“At least you’re fine and dandy so I’ll spare your ass today. How's the soulmate situation going?” 

They told him everything that happened and gossiped with him for a few more minutes before hanging up. 

Yunhee left to talk to her parents about something, only to come back to the room with her brows furrowed at the screen of her phone. 

“Uh, Yoonie? Why is Eric texting me saying if I decided to keep the baby or not, and if I did he’ll help me convince my soulmate to keep it too?” 

At this, Hayoon and Minha looked at each other, before they burst out laughing. Yunhee was still looking at them in bewilderment but the two were not being able to stop. 

After two minutes of them laughing without break and Yunhee standing like the clown that she was, they finally stopped. 

“Remember the text that you sent me? I showed it to Eric and he was the one who said ‘why does she sound like she’s going to announce her pregnancy or something’ and we realised that it could be a possibility, because dude, everyone knows that you write paragraphs when you text. So, such a thing was not to be taken lightly.” Hayoon shrugged.

At this Yunhee threw a pillow at her, yelling how her love life was as barren as the Sahara desert (because she couldn’t fall for anyone else when the thought of having a soulmate later in life hit her) and how she and her soulmate shared the same braincell. 

“Come on! At least he’s supportive!” Hayoon defended Eric.

“Yeah yeah, I can see that. Let me call him and explain the whole thing, or else he’ll start preparing to be an uncle.”

Eric was Hayoon’s soulmate that she met 3 weeks after her 18th birthday. They were the telepathy type, being able to contact each other almost immediately after the soulmate bond was activated.

The two had a few bumps on the road, as Eric wasn’t cooperative in the beginning. The reason being that he liked this other girl and he couldn’t accept the fact that his soulmate was someone else. But the said girl found her soulmate a week after, which finally pushed Eric to move on and seek his own soulmate. 

Minha and Yunhee didn’t like him, as he made their best friend suffer and put her at risk of getting ill due to the unsealed bond, but he redeemed himself eventually. Now they were a pretty wholesome couple.

After clearing the misunderstanding, they resumed the movie marathon, falling asleep in the midst of it. 

Jongho didn’t feel like getting up. It was a cold winter morning, which made sleeping under the warmth of the duvet all the more enticing. But he had to wake up as he had an important class to attend that day. 

He reached college early, so he was waiting inside the classroom when he saw it.

a glimpse of an awfully familiar cafe. He was able to hear her voice this time, when she spoke to order a regular hot mocha. A shiver ran down his body when he heard it, realising how sweet her voice sounded to him. Keeping his emotions at bay, he noticed two very familiar faces through the glimpse before it ended. 

“Cafe Aurora, huh.” He smiled to himself. His soulmate was nearer to him than he thought. 

As he entered through the door in a hurry to get away from the cold, Jongho noticed that the cafe was busier than usual. He figured that it was due to the freezing weather outside, while the cafe provided the warmth everyone including himself was seeking. 

Upon reaching the front he spotted Soobin behind the cashier counter, taking orders like he usually does with a smile on his face. Beomgyu was in the middle calling out names and distributing drinks while San was at the back making them for the customers. 

He eventually spotted Jongho and called another worker to take his place, so that he could go greet his friend. 

“Jongho? Fancy seeing you here.” San spoke up in a playful tone. 

“Why? Can’t I visit my dear hyung during his shift?” Jongho retaliated. 

“No, of course you can but you usually don’t frequent this place. Remember when you told me it was far from your house and you already found another place to get your iced americano from?” San raised his eyebrows making Jongho avert his gaze.

“Okay, fine! You got me there. I came here to ask you something.” he pouted. 

“Ei, don’t feel bad! I was teasing you! But do visit me more often from now okay? What did you want to ask?” San laughed while patting his back.

“So, I saw another glimpse this morning. I’ll tell you the details later but I think Hongjoong hyung’s theory worked. Can you tell me if you remember any girl, possibly a regular here, ordering hot mocha around 8 am?” 

“I make the drinks dude, I wouldn’t know. Hey, Gyu? Can you come over for a sec?” San yelled. 

Beomgyu, who finally got to breathe after distributing the drinks, clicked his tongue and walked over to where the two were standing. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” 

“Do you remember any regular female customer that came today around 8 am to order a hot mocha?” San asked him.

“Okay first of all, I have been distributing over hundreds of drinks, at least 30 of which were hot mochas. And if we are talking about 8 am then a lot of people came in to get their morning fix before college so I don’t think I can help you.” He paused.

“You could check the server but I doubt that would be of any help either, because a lot of female regular customers order hot mochas in the morning so…” Beomgyu shrugged. 

“Okay thanks, Gyu. We’ll figure something out.” San sighed.

“Why? Did anyone take a drink without paying again?” Beomgyu inquired in a concerned voice. 

“No, no. We’re trying to find Jongho’s soulmate.” San and Jongho laughed at Beomgyu’s expression.

“Oh, thank god. Good luck searching for her, bro.” Beomgyu gave Jongho a thumbs up before resuming his work. 

San looked at Jongho, who was deep in thought. 

“How’d you know she came to Aurora?” 

“Oh, come on hyung, I’d recognise the interior anywhere! Plus, she gave her order to Soobin and you were at the back making drinks. I saw you two in the glimpse.” Jongho poked San in the shoulders, making him swat his hand away. 

“Moreover, I think I found out how the bond works. So, I’ll increase contact and try to get her to meet me somehow.”

“That’s the spirit! I know you’ll succeed Jongho-yah.” San said with a proud look on his face. 

He asked Jongho if he still wanted to order an iced americano in a weather like that, to which he said yes. San shook his head at the boy but proceeded to make him what he wanted, yelling how he wouldn’t take any responsibility if Jongho caught a cold later. 

He just smiled and gestured at him to continue making the drink.

Two days have passed since Yunhee received the last message from her soulmate. She was trying not to think about it, distracting herself with other things but every now and then her mind would fleet to the honey-like voice which evoked an unexplainable sense of longing in her. She wanted to hear his voice again.

During breaks, the trio made a point to gather whenever their schedules coincided, to catch up and complain about college, even though it was just their freshman year. 

Yunhee was walking towards their hangout spot with Hayoon when she felt like another message was coming through. She stopped walking and tapped Hayoon on the shoulder to do the same. 

The now familiar voice reverberated in her head saying “Write the name of your favourite flower on your notebook.” 

She stood there with a faraway look in her eyes, while the girl beside her extended and retracted her hand awkwardly, not knowing if she should shake her best friend or not. 

Hayoon didn’t have to suffer in indecisiveness for long, as Minha approached them and did the job for her by back hugging Yunhee, bringing her out of her trance.

“Why are you two standing here? Let’s go.” 

“Wait, Yunhee received another telepathic message. What is it bro?” Hayoon asked Yunhee. 

“He asked me to write the name of my favourite flower. What is he up to?” 

“It’s just flowers Yunhee, he probably wanted to know basic stuff like that so that he can be prepared when he finally meets you.” Minha reasoned.

“Okay let’s go sit, so that I can write it down.” 

The three headed to their hangout place. As soon as Yunhee sat down, she reached for her bag to bring the notebook out. She opened it and wrote, ‘sunflowers, but pink roses are great too’ after much thought. 

The other two teased her saying they already knew she was going to write sunflowers so she really didn’t have to ponder so much, but Yunhee disagreed by saying how she found all flowers pretty so it was hard for her to pick one.

The following day, Yunhee received another message that asked her to write yes in the notebook if she was available on the weekend and no if she wasn’t. 

She ended up writing a ‘YES’ in capital letters on her notebook that probably covered the whole page, out of sheer excitement. 

Jongho on the other hand received a glimpse of it, laughing at how adorable she was. It was as though he felt the excitement of his soulmate and that made him more eager and impatient to meet her. 

Yunhee immediately informed Hayoon and Minha about it, who were equally thrilled for their best friend and promised to help her get ready for the occasion. 

Weekend arrived faster than the two soulmates anticipated. Jongho made sure to send her a message saying “Go to cafe Aurora at 4pm” before he started preparing to meet her. 

He got ready at three and sent a message to his group chat asking which flower he should pick between sunflowers and pink roses. Most of them suggested him to buy both and get them arranged in a nice bouquet. 

What Jongho didn’t know, however, was that the seven were already camping at cafe Aurora (excluding San because it was his shift anyway) to watch the scene unfold. 

Yunhee finally finished getting ready with the help of her two best friends. She opted for a classy but casual look: flared jeans, puffy sleeved black top, minimal pearl accessories and light makeup. 

She kept stressing and overthinking about the entire situation like the worrywart she was. At first Minha and Hayoon were trying to reassure her and alleviate her concerns but after a while it became frustrating for them so they nagged her and threw her out of the house before it was too late.

Yunhee, although still anxious about the whole meeting up with her soulmate situation, took deep breaths and reminded herself how much she had been wanting to meet her soulmate for the past few days. After calming down a bit, she headed towards the cafe. 

Jongho arrived at the cafe, the bouquet of flowers in hand. It seemed as though he attracted quite a bit of attention, because of how big the assortment of flowers looked due to the big and vibrant sunflowers. He didn’t think much of it however, opting to find a suitable seat while he waited for his soulmate to arrive. 

San on the other hand, went inside the storage room upon Jongho’s arrival to alert the other six who were hiding in there. The guys were trying to find a suitable position to peek in through the door; bickering in low voices to prevent being seen. Yunho had to hold his hand over Wooyoung’s mouth in case he yelled unintentionally and gave out their position. 

Meanwhile, San explained the whole situation to Beomgyu and Soobin, who finally understood what was going on.

“Here goes nothing.” Yunhee muttered to herself while she pushed the door to the cafe open. Upon entering she noticed that the cafe was moderately busy– an unusual sight for her as she always visited early in the morning during the rush hour, when all the seats were occupied and a huge queue present.

She didn’t know what to look for as her soulmate hadn’t really mentioned anything that would help her identify him in the crowd, but she hoped that her ‘soulmate senses’ would assist her with it (if such a thing existed).

Soobin noticed her standing awkwardly by the door and called her.

“Hello! Yunhee, right?” he said. 

“Oh, hi! Yeah, I usually drop by before going to college. I’m glad you remember my name!” Yunhee was grateful to him for striking up a conversation. 

“You seemed like you were searching for someone. Do you perhaps need some help?” He inquired. 

“I was, actually! To be honest, I don’t know what he looks like.” she paused. “It’s… my soulmate and today is supposed to be our first meeting.” Yunhee said truthfully.

Upon hearing what she said, Soobin immediately yelled at San to come to the counter, who was standing at the back. 

Yunhee saw Soobin whisper something to his ear and he looked at her with his eyebrows raised in shock. He then moved back to allow the guy to stand in his place.

“Hi! I’m San and I usually handle making beverages at the back. Soobin here just told me that you are looking for your soulmate, is that right?” He asked politely. 

“Nice to meet you! And yeah, I am.” She replied. 

“Looks like we’ll meet each other more often from now on, Ms.Yunhee.” San said while smiling. “And you might want to look there, on the right side, where a guy is sitting with a huge bouquet of flowers. Good luck!” He instructed while pointing towards the table. 

Yunhee approached said table and immediately noticed the assortment of sunflowers and pink roses along with a few other flowers. She tapped on the table to get the guy’s attention, who was on his phone with his back to her.

Jongho looked up, only to find, arguably, the most beautiful girl he has ever laid eyes upon. He seemed to be in a trance, everything but the girl in front of him becoming a blur.

Yunhee wasn’t faring any better, feeling like her heart was beating out of her chest as she stared at the guy that was supposed to be her soulmate. 

Both of them felt like something clicked in place, like the final piece in a puzzle that they didn’t even know was missing all this time.

Jongho recovered first, standing up to move the bouquet so that Yunhee could sit in the seat in front of him. Once she settled down, he swiftly handed the flowers to her, to which she thanked him in a bashful way. 

“I did think your choice of flower was unique, but now that I saw you face to face, it suits you.” Jongho said, after clearing his voice. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks.” Yunhee replied. 

“I’m Jongho. Choi Jongho. Sophomore in college.” 

“Park Yunhee. Freshman.” 

“Yunhee… a pretty name for an even prettier person it seems.” Jongho replied playfully, making her blush. 

They carried their conversation, feeling quite relaxed and comfortable after a while. Yunhee asked him a bunch of different questions, as she couldn’t do that with their bond earlier and Jongho patiently answered every query that she had with a smile on his face, not missing to ask her some in return. 

The more they communicated, the more they realised how similar their values and preferences were, which dispelled all the concerns they had about liking each other.

Jongho got up to collect their order when he noticed the six heads peeking through a door in the distance. He made his way towards the door and swung it open, to see the six guys trying to hide behind carton boxes. 

Jongho folded his arms and glared at them while they stuttered trying to explain the situation. Meanwhile, San pretended he did not see anything and continued his work.

Being discovered already, the guys came out from the storage room and greeted Yunhee, who was taken aback at first but reciprocated their enthusiasm almost immediately. 

She could see how embarrassed Jongho looked because of them so she tried to console him by saying that her friends were like this too and they’d all get along really well once they met. 

The guys started leaving one by one, seeing how Jongho’s death glare was still quite evident and they didn’t want to be at the receiving end of their youngest’s wrath. 

Jongho sighed and apologised to Yunhee again for his friends’ sudden intrusion to which she was fine with and said that it was quite nice to meet the people he was close to.

They finished their beverages and chose to take a walk outside before heading home. 

As they were walking along the pavement, Jongho felt a sudden urge to hold her hand. He tried to appear nonchalant and brushed his hand with hers, to which Yunhee responded by grabbing his hand while looking the other way. 

As someone who hated skinship with all his being, Jongho didn’t quite fathom why he felt the need to initiate physical contact with the girl walking beside him. Something as simple as holding hands was making his emotions go haywire. 

'So this is what having a soulmate feels like.' Jongho thought. 

“Right? I always felt like it was a foreign concept to me, which I couldn’t relate to at all when the people around me shared their stories. But now that I’m experiencing it for myself, I get what they were saying.” Yunhee replied, while swinging their joint hands back and forth. 

Jongho looked at her, perplexed about how she knew what he was thinking when their soulmate bond was supposed to dissipate once they met; not to mention it wasn’t regular telepathy to begin with.

Yunhee glanced back at him, to see his head tilted endearingly towards her in confusion.

“You said that out loud, Jongho.” She pointed out while giggling at his expression. 

“Oh, I didn’t realise that.” Jongho turned his head away to hide his embarrassment but Yunhee noticed how red his ears were, making her chuckle again. He figured that he really loved how her laugh sounded. 

After their impromptu stroll, Jongho took Yunhee home. 

They were at the gate, when the girl turned around and held both of Jongho’s hands.

“I had a lovely time today, so thank you so much for that. Thank you for not giving up on me even after knowing how complicated it was trying to find how our bond worked, as I completely started depending on you after not having a single clue about it. I know that our life was kind of on the line too but still I’d like to express my gratitude. And also… thanks for not turning out a jerk I guess?” Yunhee ended with a mischievous smile, making Jongho laugh. 

“Then I’d also like to express my gratitude for the fact that you chose to trust me on this and I’m so glad that you’re my soulmate.” Jongho smiled warmly while squeezing her hands tighter. “Also, thanks for not being a snobbish Karen.” He ended with a wink. 

Both Yunhee and Jongho felt all warm inside just by looking at each other. Every emotion that they felt just by doing the bare minimum seemed heightened and it was a complete new experience for both of them. 

The day ended as Yunhee hugged Jongho despite him telling her he hated skinship, and surprisingly Jongho didn’t mind it and hugged her back. 

Yunhee promised to introduce her parents and friends to him some other day, to which Jongho wholeheartedly agreed, saying he’d do the same. 

At last they parted ways, Yunhee entering her house and Jongho on his way home even though they didn’t want the day to end. 

Unspoken promises of a life together at each other's side lingered on. A life, where they were bound to be together, chosen as each other’s counterparts by fate itself. No matter how many lives they lived, the red string of fate would always bring the destined souls to one another; such was the way of the universe.

[omegaverse-daily]

Do you have any headcanons for wild vs city packs? How they would interact and integrate? How they would differ and how to kinda build a story around both pack types. I’m dying for some ideas, I have baseline ideas but nothing solid 😭

Puppy mod here!

I’m pretty sure I wrote this and asked it here a while ago (if I didn’t and someone else did, we need to talk because I’ve been fixated on this idea forever), but recently I was made a mod here which is like super crazy to me! Kitty mod has become a very cool friend to have teehee.

This specific ask is still something that lurks in my brain. When I write with this idea in mind it never really clicks the way I want it to.

The idea splits in two halves and a bridge to help cross them but the execution is where I still struggle.

One side is trad pack side, more along the lines of packs living in the woods still. They live off of their natural resources and follow practiced that have been tried and true since ancient times, though properly evolved to support pack lives and safety more effectively. This side can be secluded if desired, effectively separated from society, but could also have branches reaching out into modern living, that’s more how I enjoy to think of it as. They’d have modern medicine and technology practically just next door but have no real need or desire for it because it’s just not how they live their lives. They may also tend to live by more of a traditional lifestyle, not always less progressive but trad packs do slack on that front. Alpha Omega relationships are the norm, they have pack rolls that tend to follow a more typical set line, and they have traditional mating practices as well.

Modern living packs don’t conform to the traditional pack lifestyle. You’ll find alpha/alpha relationships, omega/omega, you name it. Younger generations having less children, or at least less children at younger ages. Omegas aren’t so weighed down by traditional roles and neither are alphas. Their mating practices are a lot looser, more on their own terms than anyone else’s. Some people don’t have full packs, some placing pack bonds with friends and no family, some making their own packs while maintaining longer distances bonds with family. Not everyone lives in a generational home with family but has their own place. They have modern schools and job and transit, replying less on their most base instinct and going more with the flow. This side probably doesn’t worry about anything like hunting and sourcing food or water outside of the modern struggle for such things…

My struggle is the bridge between these two similar but definitely more different worlds of people of a same kind. Would there be transfer programs built into schools to packs as a way to connect the two together? There would for certain be a disdain built into to each side as every difference has, so the most understandable thing would be to bridge them together to form a better understanding of each other’s lives. Would this bridge lead to a mixed culture eventually? It’s such an interesting concept but I lack all the details I need to be able to make the dots all connect.

If anyone has any ideas to chip in or observations or questions, please ask! I love this idea and want to talk about it more!

-Puppy Mod

[widowsistersandfriends]

Team Bonding

Request: pleaseeee can I request lee!wanda in AoU where she's really shy with the team and pietro mentions she loves being tickled but she gets super shy and embarrassed by it, and so clint absolutely wrecks her trying to get her out of her shell? thank you! <3 @natashaslovxr

Note: Thank you for this very cute request! I am so sorry it took a while to get to, but I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1625

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The Avengers had all gathered together in the compound for a team dinner and game night. The large table was filled with various delicious foods, which made all of their mouths water and stomachs grumble. Wanda was still shy with the team, as she and her brother were fairly new to the crowd. She took a seat quietly next to Pietro and also next to Natasha. 

The dinner consisted of various conversations, laughter and stories. Wanda tried her best to keep up and follow along, but she couldn’t find herself offering more than a few laughs at other people’s funny stories. It’s not that she wasn’t interested or anything. She just felt like she had a hard time fitting in with them. A majority of the team were guys, and Natasha had been with them from the start, so she was pretty much family. 

“So what’s everyone’s favorite game? I want to have some good ideas for when we play afterwards,” Steve said, looking around the table.

“Uno! Monopoly! Sorry! Trouble! Life! Scrabble!” Various answers had come out in shouts around the table, as they were all eager to get their opinions out there.

“What about you Wanda? What’s your favorite game?” Clint asked gently. 

“Umm, I’m not really sure,” the young witch said, looking down at her plate and poking at her food.

“I know her favorite game!” Pietro chimed in. The whole table became interested and waited for more details.

“When Wanda and I were little, we loved to play hide and seek with a twist. Basically, whoever is hiding also hides an item and the seeker has to find the person and the item. First they search for the hider. Then the hider tells them what item they’re looking for and they look for it. Whoever has the fastest time wins,” Pietro explained.

“Why was that your favorite game, Wanda?” Natasha asked curiously. 

“Oh! Well, I guess it was just a fun way for me to bond with Pietro,” Wanda said shyly.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Pietro asked mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Pietro no! Don’t tell them,” Wanda whined, now gaining the curiosity of the entire table. This was the most she had said at dinner, and the slight panic in her voice got everyone’s attention.

“I think they’d love to knowwwww,” her twin brother teased.

Wanda covered her face in embarrassment, hoping that Pietro was just messing with her and wasn’t actually going to expose her secret. 

“I have a strategy that lets me win every single time,” Pietro bragged, which earned him a sharp pinch to the thigh by his sister.

“Yow! That was so unnecessary,” Pietro yelped, as Wanda gave him a look of warning. She even made her eyes glow red to scare him even though she knew she would never hurt him on purpose. 

The avengers all looked amused, seeing the twins interact in a playful setting. Pietro looked like he was gonna give in and keep her secret. However, he then quickly blurted out her secret before running off with his super speed. “Wanda is super ticklish and loves being tickled, so I use it to get her to confess where she hid her item!” With that, there was a blur and a young witch there with the rest of her team. Wanda looked around fearfully at the other avengers, knowing what was coming next. 

The witch quickly pushed her chair back, making a run for it. She knew those smirks on all of her teammates’ faces meant trouble. She didn’t know where Pietro went, but her main goal was to hide. She figured if anyone found her, she could fly away. The only exception was her brother, who was so fast she wouldn’t have enough time to escape. 

Wanda squeezed herself into the shower and closed the curtain. It wasn't the best hiding spot but it was all she had time for, as she was getting trailed by the other avengers. The tub was not super wide, so she was able to use both hands to hold the ends of the curtain to either side. This way, even if they tried to pull it open, they wouldn’t be able to. Or so she thought.

It was silent for a while, and she had hope that they had given up. Unfortunately just as she got her hopes up, the bathroom lights turned on and her shadow could be seen through the curtain. 

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Clint asked, and Wanda could hear the teasy smirk in his voice. The witch stayed quiet for now.

“Not answering hmm? We’ll get you talking soon,” Natasha said, and Wanda could imagine her facial expression as she said that.

“As captain, I order that we capture the witch and tickle her to pieces,” Steve said, joining in on the fun. The avengers tried tugging on the curtain, which held up nicely due to Wanda holding on to the ends. However, she didn’t realize a small loophole in her plan.

Natasha moved closer to the curtain, before reaching out and tickling Wanda’s ribs through the curtain. The sudden touch to the sensitive area made Wanda immediately jerk away and use her arms and hands to protect herself. With that, the curtain was ripped open by Natasha, as she grabbed Wanda despite her attempt to fly away.

“No! Natasha put me down!” The witch cried. Natasha’s response was just a jab to her ribs, causing her to flail in her arms helplessly.

Natasha laid her down on the bed, sitting behind her and bringing her arms above her head. Clint then came over with a teasing smile. 

“Don’t worry little witch, I’m not going to hurt you. We just want to see you smile and laugh since you’re so shy,” Clint said.

Natasha looked down endearingly at Wanda, reassuring her. 

“Don’t worry. This is all part of the initiation. Breaking people out of their shell,” Natasha said, as the witch attempted to pull away.

“I’m not ticklish!” Wanda blurted out, desperate to get out of this. 

“Nice try. I know we can’t read minds like you but we can definitely read body language,” Clint said, as Natasha lightly tickled her armpit to catch her off guard.

“AHAHA no! Stop that!” Wanda demanded, a deep blush taking over her cheeks. It was clear she was trying to hold her laughter in. 

“But I thought you said you weren’t ticklish?” Clint asked, squeezing her sides.

“IHIHIM NOHOHOT OKAHAHAY,” the witch laughed, as the two of them chuckled at her futile attempt at lying. 

“Sure, we believe you,” Natasha and Clint said at the same time. With that, Clint began squeezing her hips while Natasha continued to tickle her armpits.

“NOHOHO PLEHEHEASE IHIHIM SOHOHORRY,” Wanda cried out, letting her laughs let a little more loose.

“What are you sorry for?” Clint asked, tickling her stomach now.

“FOHOHOR LYIHIHING,” Wanda shouted.

“So you admit you lied?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow. The witch shook her head from side to side, gasping with giggles as Clint poked and prodded between her ribs.

They gave the witch a small breather, as she laid there helplessly.

“You guys are so mean,” Wanda whined with a pout.

“Nah, we’re not mean. We just make a good team,” Natasha said with a smirk.

“wE jUsT mAkE a gOoD tEaM,” Wanda said mockingly. 

“Oh you are so asking for it,” Clint said, as he moved down to sit on her shins.

“No no no please! Anywhere but thehEHEHERE CLIHIHINT STAHAHAHAHAHAP,” Wanda screamed with laughter. To add on to the torture, Natasha began to shake her hands into her ribs. 

“PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIM BEHEHEGGING! MEHEHERCY,” Wanda cried out, helplessly trying to squirm to the best of her capabilities. 

“Aww look at you coming out of your shell,” Clint teased, as the witch couldn’t do anything but laugh.

The two of them eventually let her go, realizing that she had met her limit. 

“Don’t ever team up again,” Wanda said to the two older avengers.

“Oh don’t worry, we plan on tickling you a lot more now that we know how ticklish you are,” Natasha said with a grin.

Wanda groaned, as the two of them helped her sit up and catch her breath.

“How about we make a deal,” Clint offered.

“What deal?” Wanda asked.

“If we find Pietro for you and let you tickle him as revenge, will you forgive us?” Clint asked.

Wanda narrowed her eyes at him, knowing she was bound to just get tickled eventually. She saw this as her opportunity to catch one of them off guard. She quickly flipped onto Clint, pinning him to the bed where she just was.

“I think I’d rather tickle you first. After all, you were the one who tickled me,” Wanda said, asking for Natasha to help her.

“What! I’m not the only one! Natasha tickled you too!” Clint protested.

“Not as much as you though. Besides, I’ll get my revenge on Natasha too, don’t worry,” Wanda said confidently.

“Oh really?” Natasha said, giving her sides a good squeezing, causing the witch to immediately take back her words all while squealing and giggling.

“Come on, I’ll help you tickle Clint. It’ll be some good bonding. After all, we need to have lots of team building and teamwork skills so we can work together as avengers,” Natasha said, as Clint began laughing and protesting as the two girls tickled him to pieces. His weak spots were his armpits and knees, much to the girls’ delight. The archer couldn’t help but snort and laugh through the tickle torture. 

Wanda was still somewhat shy at times, but after her tickle torture experience, she became a lot more open and vulnerable around her new family. As for Pietro, Wanda also was able to sharpen her tickling skills, which left the speedy guy in for a day of torture.

[writingforfun0714]

So I wanted to wait and let the new Bad Batch trailer sink in before posting about it.

Warnings: Spoilers, some thoughts/opinions will be critical

Alright so I don’t think it’s any secret that I don’t care for the Bad Batch. Even ignoring the horrible, incredibly RACIST clone model, the writing is mid/passable at best and not even watchable for me. Most of S1 and 2 combined is the typical ‘mission of the week’ type of story where only a few Empire-focused episodes stand out. There are also instances of ableism concerning Echo in particular (CF99 are also super dismissive of him in general—going along with that whole fucking ‘superiority over regs’ thing—seriously wtf).

Most episodes were very bland and predictable. S1 had no stakes despite its finale. By Mando/ST it’s clear that something has happened to Kamino. Didn’t really need to see a 2pt ep of the city getting wiped. Plus AZI should’ve been sacrificed. Even Ahsoka learns the lesson that you can’t save everyone in S1 when she disobeys Anakin and Admiral Yularen. TBB S2 had no character development from anyone besides a little bit for Omega (and Tech—but that was always speculated by fans since S1 and he’s dead now so it doesn’t really matter). A lot of the dialogue felt…basic. I think the only thing that TBB does well is the music. It’s really amazing and beautiful along with the smooth, crisp animation/scenery. Shame they ruined it with racist clone models, racist tones with the ‘reg’ dispute in both seasons, and being ableist and dismissive towards Echo.

Which brings me to the trailer. Oh boy. First, right off the bat I noticed how similar the trailer opening is compared to the S2 trailer. I do like that Phee is back. She did take time to grow on me but I do like her character and am curious to see where they will go with her.

It’s interesting we are seeing Crosshair back with the group so soon. Personally I do believe that is Crosshair and not just someone else wearing his armor like some think. I like the idea of Omega and Crosshair escaping early on but Omega gets recaptured/separated and taken back to Tantiss.

I’m interested in Hemlock and his backstory (is his gloved hand robotic?). I wish they’d create more interesting and unique characters like Phee and Fennec Shand instead of relying on cameos of established characters/fan-favorites like Ventress. I loved Dark Disciple and I thought it was a great ending for her.

I know it’s officially said that Ventress’ story will follow Dark Disciple but I don’t see how unless they retcon her death or pull a ‘somehow she survived’. Either way that sucks. Reminder!! DAVE FELONY DIDN’T EVEN FOLLOW REBELS FOR AHSOKA. SABINE IS NOT FORCE SENSITIVE IN REBELS. DAVE RETCONS THE SHIT OUT OF EVERYTHING. I have no faith that they will remain loyal to DD. Anything that will be ‘canon’ will be mid at best because even Crosshair’s arc has been messy (which is due to the weird S1 ‘reset’ the characters go through. Like they totally should’ve appreciated ‘regs’ by the end of TBB arc in TCW S7–there was no need for that awkward food fight scene in S1).

I hate that this show has to rely on cameos to get the viewing numbers. Here is a list of every character cameo we’ve seen so far:

—Rex*

—Tarkin*

—Palpatine*

—The Lawquane Family

—The Syndullas/Chopper

—Nala Se/Lama Su*

—Cad Bane

—Bail Organa

—Riyo Chuchi

—Gungi

—Gregor

—Wolffe

—Cody

—Scorch

—Saw Gerrera

—Martez Sisters

—Kanan/Depa*

—Muchi/Rancor from RotJ

—Taun We/Halle Burtoni

—Ventress

*I consider these important/relevant cameos and am not bothered by them like the others*

What a list right? I might even be missing one. These were just off the top of my head. Some are big players, others smaller and almost not-relevant to the plot. Not counting the one’s I asterisked, it’s 15 characters. There are original characters but a lot of them, especially in S1 felt like one off, not important characters. And I hate Cid so much—glad to see she was absent in the S3 trailer. I’m really starting to love Phee and I’ve always loved Fennec Shand, and Hemlock is definitely an intriguing villain and Emerie feels like a total mystery (though the reveal was not shocking due to the similar design and accent to Omega). Like why can’t they create more characters like these? The rest just feel forgettable. And it’s clear that characters like Saw, Gungi, Scorch, Cad Bane and even the Syndulla and Lawquane families just felt like fan service. The rest kind of make sense that they’d show up but it also feels a bit like fan service.

Moving on..

I know a lot of people think that new weird dark trooper at the 1:40 mark is Tech. While I’m inclined to agree as I think the ‘Winter Soldier’ story is an obvious choice to pick, I also think that Tech is dead. I’ve changed my mind and kind of hope that Tech isn’t brought back.

I hope this is someone new. I also wouldn’t mind if it was a bounty hunter we’ve seen before. Due to the frame and stature, I could almost think of Boba due to him being older than Omega but it’s definitely more likely to be Tech than either of these choices.

It’s interesting a lot of cameo characters from S2 do not make an appearance in the trailer. Bail, Riyo, Gungi, Gregor and Cody are all absent from the trailer. Trailers usually show action shots to avoid story spoilers, but with Gungi, Gregor, and Cody all being capable fighters, I’m surprised they didn’t appear (usually stuff with politics is a story spoiler).

Overall I’m skeptical of the trailer. I don’t like Ventress being alive/in TBB being a Dark Disciple lover. There’s a lot of mystery surrounding the story of S3 so I don’t feel like I can give an accurate take on that. I hate how Omega’s longer hair looks. Curly haired Omega is adorable!! The animation (everything but the clone model) is definitely getting better. However, based on how S2 was marketed as a ‘darker story compared to S1’ and was like 80% fetch quest I’m definitely skeptical.

Those of you that made it through this post, thank you for your time and I hope I gave you something to think about. If you wanna learn more about the racism and ableism portrayed in this show, check out @unwhitewashthebadbatch for more info.