#but right now it's just nothing. and so reality crashing in on many sides at once is destroying me a bit

[buckynats]

.

[morallyinept]

Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 2

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 3.7k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie takes an offer. Jude is left floundering.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 1

He’s exhausted and any chance of sleep seems like a farfetched pipedream.

The current is still choppy and he’s using all his strength to stay on the piece of wreckage that’s undoubtedly saving his life right now as he rides the waves that are unrelenting and battering his body. 

Franke isn’t entirely sure when nightfall had swallowed him up, or hasn’t a clue at how far into the night he actually is in terms of time. He can’t see his watch in the pitch dark. 

He lays on his back, hands gripping either side of the wreckage with them submerged into the cold water with a tight hold; the pain in his side is aching profusely and the burning sensation still makes its harsh presence known across his neck skin. 

His throat is dry and coarse and he stares up into the black, not really able to separate the horizon from the deep pit of space above him; just swallowed in a deep intense darkness that seems incredibly lonely and innately scary.

After a while, he starts to see images in the darkness when he looks inside it for so long; little dots of colour that merge and weave themselves into thoughts and memories that soon become shapes and birth a life of their own.

They begin twisting into hallucinations and nightmare images that plague his mind over and over, of an aeroplane crashing into the ocean, fire burning his skin and so much blood curdling screaming that deafens him; a vile ringing in his ears that shakes him out of any sleep he drifts into. 

He has nothing to do but to relive them all over and over to the point he’s unsure whether he’s residing in reality anymore or not. 

Freezing ocean water splashes over Frankie’s torso again and he shudders from the cold; his teeth begin that uncontrollable chatter as his arms shake through his intense grip on the debris with exhausted nerves. 

Frankie isn’t a religious man; he’s seen and done so many terrible things in his time in Delta Force to know there is a first class seat waiting for him in Hell. Will's right, the numbers never lie. 9. 28. 39. 87. 208. 674. The numbers never lie, Frankie. 9 physical scars. 28 stitches. 39 confirmed kills. 87 civilians. 208 days spent on the front line in the desert heat. 674 bullets. Yeah, Hell is definitely where he'll end up.

But at this moment, he closes his eyes tight and prays wholly that he won’t die out here alone in the frightening ocean, waiting for its moment to swallow him up whole. 

Please God; please don’t let me die like this, por favor Dios… Please.

One Month Prior...

Frankie had decided he needed to get away a few days after the break up. 

The pressure was crushing him from every angle, and he was looking for breaks in his employment schedule to take advantage of before the impulses took advantage of him. 

As he scanned down the calendar on the fuzzy computer system screen, he noticed the trembles in his fingers once more and balled them away into a fist. 

Living in a contented denial clearly didn’t serve any other purpose than causing more stress and anxiety in the long run, and those thick fingers of his twitched with temptation on the daily the more he was left to sit and dwell in those darkening thoughts. 

He knows he should have severed that festering limb of his failing relationship a long time ago, would have saved Carla and he both the heartache of playing pretend, but evidently he hadn't the resolve in him to step up to the task in a long time.

Push came to a dramatic shove when he was back in New York, in the aviation workshop down by the docks; tinkering with engine and turbine parts. His hands greased up and calloused, when his phone rang on the work bench beside him. 

Eddie’s name flashes up on the screen and Frankie knows he can’t avoid his sponsor for much longer.

“Frank. I’ve not heard from you, I’ve been worried.” Eddie's voice on the phone cuts into the steam rolling inside of Frankie’s ears as soon as he answers, preparing himself for a condescending verbal assault. “Are you doing okay, bud?”

An ex-addict himself, although heroin is his poison, Eddie is all that Frankie can only ever hope to aspire to be with regards to his sobriety. He makes it look so easy. Eleven years sober and Frankie’s measly six months already feel like a lifetime weighing him down.

A pillar in the local community, Eddie is admired and revered and has received various accolades with his gummy grin plastered in the newspaper and on the programme's website, and Frankie is always reminded how lucky he is to have Eddie supporting him at group therapy, as he nods like a zombie behind a polystyrene cup of watered down coffee that tastes like scum swilling around in the bottom of an engine.

He’d like to keep his own teeth though, whereas Eddie has gaps in his gums from the abuse of injecting on the streets for years. And Frankie knows he came close to being on the streets himself. Things took a particularly bad turn after Tom’s death and Frankie is still haunted by it nightly.

It got so bad that he blacked out. Took too much. They told him his heart had stopped. That was the first time Carla had seen him like that; up until then being able to manage the coke in secret binges to quiet the tornado of his mind.

It was also the first time he had to admit to having an actual problem.

He remembers coming round to the worried yells of Benny calling his name and slapping at his face until he was coherent, and Carla’s mascara streaked, red eyes regarding him like a frightened gazelle.

After he was discharged from the hospital, he promised her he would finally get help. Even if a part of him didn't really want to.

And yet he’s been inadvertently avoiding Eddie like the plague as of late too. His own successes marring Frankie’s inner turmoil and guilt at how his life has careened so far out of his control and into the shit-stained toilet bowl. 

He lost everything; his friends, his job, family members even turned their backs on him. He still remembers the look of disappointment on his dad's face and that hurt more than he would ever let on. He had to pull himself out from the bottom of the gutter, and some days he just wants to throw himself back in there and be done with it all.

“Yeah, man. I’ve just been busy with work. I meant to call you sooner.” His tone is all apologetic, but there’s a chattering to his teeth that’s prevalent, despite him trying to quell it. His gums ache profusely and have done for days now.

“You’ve been missed at group sessions too.”

Frankie hangs his head in subjugation, even though Eddie can’t see it. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m okay-”

“Frank.”

“I promise. I’m fine.” Frankie sighs with a heavy gruff. 

“You don’t sound fine.”

Get off my case, man. “Just tired. I’ve been posted on a few jobs back to back. Keeping me busy, you know how it is.” 

“Listen, I'm glad you’re working so much. And it’s a great job, really. You’re lucky to have gotten it, what with everything you’ve been through-” Ah. There it is. The condescension. The pity. The ‘you’re so lucky’ speech. Frankie bites down on his lip and suppresses a growl. Hijo de puta. 

“-But it would be really good to see you. Check in.”

Check up on me, more like. “Yeah.” Frankie scratches at the back of his head where the curled chocolate tufts fall out from under his cap and grow unruly at his sun-kissed nape. He should probably get a haircut soon. “I’m not sure when I can get the time off-”

“Frank. You have to make the time for your sobriety or your addiction will take more time from you. What I’d tell you, hmm?” 

“I know, I know. I'm trying…” And he is. One foot in front of the other, asshole.

“You’ve got time for a coffee with me this afternoon. I know they don’t work you so ragged that you can’t grab thirty and a cup of Joe. What do you say?”

“I, uh-”

“Morales!” His name is called, echoing down the workshop and Frankie looks up, swallowing coarsely as he notices the rotund silhouette of his superior traipsing over to him across the mottled floor. 

“Listen, I gotta go. Not supposed to take personal calls at work.” Frankie murmurs.

“Frank, wait-”

He hangs up the phone.

“Morales, you got a sec?” His senior retorts and looks over the work bench at the melee of wires and stripped metal parts. 

“Dustin.” Frankie nods curtly. “Everything alright?”

“Peachy. Listen, you know choppers don't you? I heard Malik saying you used to be in the forces or something?”

Dustin regards him through the magnification of his glasses smeared with fingerprints that seem to glow under the dull strip lights. There’s damp patches on his beige shirt spreading from the underarms, and there's always a waft of menthol emanating from the gum he ceaselessly chews on.

“Yeah,” Frankie takes his cap off and runs his hand through his grease slicked curls. “I used to uh, fly.” He shifts uneasily on his feet.

“Air Force?”

“Special Ops. D-Delta Force.” 

“Nice.” Dustin nods with raised eyebrows. "Got you one of those fancy military pensions, eh?"

“Not really.” Frankie rebuts as he glances away briefly. He wills his mind not to visit the memories. 

"What rank were you?" Dustin enquires curiously.

"Captain. Aviation."

“Hmm. Makes me think you’re the right man then.”

“For what?” Frankie asks as he turns his concentration back to Dustin.

A man shorter and more rounder at the waist than Frankie is, with his own middle age spread starting to puff out of him now that he no longer has the daily, gruelling exercise drills, but a man that also took a chance on him when his applications were rejected time and time again. One that Frankie doesn’t want to let down, but knows somewhere along the line, he probably will. It's inevitable.

This job has been a lifeline, despite the long back and forth between the New York and Florida bases, pulling him out of a heavy routine funk, where he’d had nothing else to do except plug his nose with the white stuff. Now he chugs six shots of coffee on the regular to stay awake and alert.

He knows that he owes Dustin his life in some regards. And he’s trying so hard not to let him down. He’ll always be trying, for the rest of his damn life. 

“Got a new base on contract that needs some birds fixin’ up. Couple of older models. Hawks, twin hueys. Stuff like that. Most of the guys here know shit about rotary blades.” Dustin explains. 

“Military use?”  

“Ex. They want ‘em for rescue copters now. Recycling. It’s a month long posting, maybe more work if you impress the seniors over there. Perhaps a permanent relocation. Can bump up your pay too."

“Where?” Frankie queries as he considers the appeal. 

“Madagascar.”

“Wow, really? Shit…” Frankie says, still nodding. The appeal tweaks further at something within him. 

“Yeah. All travel expenses in; you just gotta show up n’ fix the shit they can’t. You up for it?”

Frankie nods without hesitation. It’s not like he has anything keeping him here anymore now. Carla’s gone. Benny still hasn’t messaged him back. He’s convinced his dad has fully disowned him now...

“Yeah. Sounds good, actually.” 

“Well alright. I’ll book you a flight. You’ll go next Wednesday on probation for a month. That work for you?” 

Frankie nods so much that his neck now aches. “Works for me.”

“Good. I’ll sort your visa paperwork. Nice one, Morales. Or should I say, Captain.” He salutes with a weak two fingers as he turns on his scuffed heels.

“Thanks, Dustin.” Frankie grimaces.

Dustin waves behind him as he carries on back up the workshop leaving Frankie to mull over the horror of a burgeoning packing list.

“I’m glad you agreed to meet me. I’ve missed you.”

“Have you?” Jude asks tentatively, yet her arms are still folded across her chest like they were from the moment she'd entered this wretched place.

She hadn’t taken her coat off; she knew she wouldn’t be staying long.

“Yeah, course, babe. I ordered you a hot chocolate; extra cream. I know you like those.” Nate says with a buoyant grin. 

“I also like not being cheated on.” Jude mutters and looks down at the hot chocolate with despair. Some of the cream has already melted and slid down the side of the mug leaving the foamy remains from its sad little death. 

I don’t think I like hot chocolate anymore...

“I came here to explain. It’s not how you think it is-” Nate begins like he always does. Pulling out and smoothing down that well-rehearsed script.

“Really? How is it that your dick ended up inside her then? Did you trip and fall?” Jude remarks a little too loudly.

It stirs a quizzical look from a couple drinking from their coffees adjacent to them both. But she doesn't care. He’s embarrassed as he leans forward and hushes at her to keep her voice down. 

She picks up her mug and slurps at the mess that does nothing to quell the anger or thirst. It’s already cold and it irks her even more.

“Why do we even come here? This place can never serve up hot, hot chocolate!” She exclaims, tossing the mug down clumsily on the table and slouching back in the chair in defiance. “I mean the clue is in the fucking name - hot chocolate, right?”

Technically it’s her own fault, dithering around outside, and deciding whether to actually come in or not, when he’d already got the two mugs on the table at that point. She’d watched Nate through the window for a while from across the sidewalk wondering why on earth she was giving him the chance to explain his inherent disloyalty.

He fiddled with his phone incessantly as he waited for her.

She observed him keep picking it up and checking the screen. He was a fiddler when he was anxious; one of those people who can’t bear a few moments without human interaction whilst she goes to the restroom, or gets another drink without him, and so resorts to hiding himself away in the virtual world in the palm of his hand for distraction from his lonesome visibility. 

She resented it now, whereas at first it was endearing. He had a lot of endearing traits in the beginning. Now she wondered if it was the other woman he was tapping out a message to on the keypad, or the harem of other women that hung around him like a bad smell, whilst he was waiting for her to arrive and meet him to just talk, he had said.

Which was code for berating her unremittingly until she folds like a deck of cards and she comes back home again. 

Jude knows she’s a chump for agreeing to it. But he had hounded her so much it was always easy to give in and to type out okay fine! To get a moment’s peace from the barrage of false apologies filling up her inboxes.

It was so unfair of him to do this; to ask her to come to what was once fondly known as their place. She’d never be able to come in here again, although that wasn’t exactly a big loss considering they couldn’t serve her up a scalding fucking hot chocolate on a nippy spring day, right?

“I don’t want to hear what you’ve got to say, Nate. What you did is unforgivable and I’m not interested in hearing your lies anymore.” Jude says bitterly and not looking at him. She couldn’t look at him. If she did, he’d dig his claws in all over again.

“I never meant to hurt you, babe.” Nate says with his fingers clamped around his own mug. Lie.

“Yes you did,” she swallows. “If you didn’t, you would never have fucked her, or any of the others.”

“I’m sorry.” He lies again like he’s a skilled craftsman at it; they just tumble out of his mouth with ease. His first word was probably a lie too.

Try as she might, the sordid images present themselves to her again like they have done ever since. It’s like a vile replay that won’t relent, a bit like clicking onto a harmless website on your work computer and explicit porn ads flash up and won’t close down no matter how many times you click the exit button, whilst your colleagues behind you think you’re a sordid kinkster into hardcore anal.

And she lives in that moment over and over again and has done for the past few days since it happened.

And now she’s here; sitting in this café opposite him and allowing him to spoon feed her more lies and excuses as her cheeks fill with the toxic mush. 

And she swallows them all down, gorging herself on them until she vomits and shits out his words all over herself again and again, and she’s not sure why she’s allowing him to do it; she isn't sure of anything anymore.

Nate’s voice rouses Jude’s attention back to him and out of that continual fuzzing loop. “I’m sorry.” He reaches for her hand on the table and she snaps it back, fearing that if he touches her that will be it - she’ll be hooked again.

The stark reality of the conversation - or rather the words he had just fired lazily at her - starts to sink in and it’s somewhat a hard feat to comprehend. For a moment, it stops everything in its tracks as though the world has stopped rotating around the sun on its axis, and people are frozen on pause midway through drinking their coffees or taking a step forward towards the cash register.

“You’ll always be sorry, Nate.” Jude pushes the hot chocolate away from her and back towards him. “But it doesn’t mean a fucking thing.” 

He’s become a stranger in front of her very eyes. Gone was the hand holding and laughter to be replaced by indifferent scowls and thoughts of imminent murder.

She stands up quickly, knocking the table slightly. The last of the cream that’s holding onto dear life on the rim of the mug slides down it like the fluffy remains of a dying snowman.

“Please-” Nate stands up with her and reaches for her hand once more, but she snatches it out of the way and shoves it into her pocket. 

Why is he fighting for this when he clearly doesn’t give a shit? 

“No Nate. We’re done. It’s over; for good this time.” Jude reaffirms and something inside her gives her a proud high-five. 

She pulls her scarf tighter around her throat. Perhaps if she strangles herself with it, it would feel better. 

“But I love you!” He protests and it cracks her open like it always does. 

He said he loved you, Jude. 

He even said it after the unfaithful act; probably more than he had ever done so before he was caught with his pants down.

Does she love him though, really love him? Was he the man that she wanted to wake up with every morning and go to bed with every night, for what, the rest of her life? Because that’s a long, long time. She has to be sure, right?

Jude’s head becomes swamped full of all the good memories, right back from the beginning as though she’s flicking through an old photo book of their time together. And, of course, it's utter agony.

She’d imagined what Nate would be like as a full time, fully committed boyfriend when she’d first met him through a mutual friend during a rare night out. Oh yeah, she’d considered the fantasy of it; walking down the street hand in hand with him and curling up on the couch after a long day, him rubbing her feet until she would be woozy with the relaxation of it all.

She’d played out the dating scenario in her mind over and over again, to the point where it was on the cusp of escaping her mouth and firing the omission at him that she really did like him and his cute butt, but the fear of rejection prevented her from ever saying it out loud. That and the fact his bad boy reputation preceded him.

She worked away a lot, a successful, yet hard slog of a career as a landscape photographer for a popular tourism company, and with freelance work topping up her bank balance on the side, Jude was never home much as a consequence to seeing the world through a lens.

But Nate asked her questions about her travels with a twinkle in his eye and he couldn’t possibly like her like that, no way. He was never preferential to her, laughing with the other women in their group of mutual chums and flirting openly with anyone with a pulse, including her. It was just his niche, a personality trait that meant no harm.

He was slightly older, needed a robust woman and she was just a silly thing; drowning herself in gloom filled thoughts about how he could ever desire her like that. She was a nomad, her, her camera and backpack with no real roots. What could she offer him beyond that? 

Coupled with the pieces of his personality that irked her and would crop up and shove themselves in her face; it made her double think that actually she was probably better off staying single.

Like the way he would drench his hotdog in layers of mustard on Labour Day and it would be dripping down his chin and in his teeth when he spoke to her through sloppy mouthfuls. Watching mangled pieces of chewed meat churning around his mouth like they were tumbling in a dryer wasn’t exactly an attractive trait in a man. 

The way that he would bite all the skin off of his bottom lip until it bled when driving and then spit it out, so tiny, minute pieces of his body, alongside dust and umpteen Dr Pepper cans would be found in the foot well of his messy Camry. Jude hated that whenever she would get in it, she had to fight with a suffocating onslaught of burger wrappers and empty coffee cups in order to get a seat. 

That’s not to say he was all bad; Nate’s unapologetically good looking with a smile that starts in his sky blue eyes and breaks out fully on his face, lighting it up like the giant Christmas tree outside the Rockefeller Center every year, and she likes that she always manages bring it out of him with her quips and stupid jokes, even when he’s tired and grumpy.

He’s generous, sometimes too generous, with his friends and with her alike, and he loves his dog Casper unconditionally, and talks to him like he can understand the dog’s growls, and yaps back at him like Doctor-friggin’- Doolittle before he lets the pup make out with him after licking his butt.

But fear of the unknown and trepidation about breaking away from the usual, the expected and the comfortable status quo that was her life, was somewhat harder to do than envision. Plus throw in the innate fear of rejection and she has an emotional Molotov cocktail ready for self-destructive disaster. 

But then he changed it. Nate came in and messed it all up and asked her to be his girlfriend, asked her to move in to his fashionable loft on the Upper East Side; asked her to marry him. It was a cruel, callous joke because not long after that Jude caught him cheating for the first time - that she knew about anyway.

Fool me once, shame on you. 

He blamed it on alcohol; one to many yadder, yadder. She meant nothing, babe honestly. Just a stupid mistake - I love you.

Those three, little, well executed words were enough to have Jude come scarpering back to him. And for a while things were rosy again. Until the next time it happened. 

Fool me twice, shame on me.

And the time after that. And the time after that...

“Don’t call me again.” Jude warns him with a disgusted side glance as Nate shrinks back into his seat. 

She marches out of the café and makes her way back out into the street towards her beat up car, unable to feel the cold air of the Big Apple nipping at her skin - unable to feel anything really, but sheer, drowning panic. 

Now what?

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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[bts5sosempire]

silent sea (i)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: toji fushiguro x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2,510 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: yandere, dark, horror, psychological horror, death (later), merman au, merman toji, mention of blood and raw flesh (fish) feeding, loose merlfolk lore, etc. 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "A few years ago, you went missing with a few other marine biologists into the deep sea, only to resurface with untold horrors ingrained within your now soulless eyes. Even moving away from the sea and living more inward inside the island of Bordia didn't help you when you could still hear the sounds of crashing waves and seagulls crying from above. Sometimes the nights were hopeless, and when you closed your eyes, the nightmares began.

But when a typhoon was coming toward your home, flooding the island in the water with more than half the population missing, that's when you saw them. He, out in the open sea. They only allow themselves to venture where the water had occupied." 𝐚/𝐧: been waiting and wanting to write for this dilf for so long that it's here (rather short atm, but will extend). I will not be using my regular boarder as a divider or timestamp skip since that is what has been causing my post to not go through or lagged. Btw, please like if you like ❤️, comment below in the "comment" section 📝 for tagging, and reblogged if you wish to too. Have a nice day lovelies! 💖

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Someone come help me!" A fisherman shouts, running toward the ocean where a wooden boat drifts towards the golden wet sand of Bordeia Island. A few others chase after the older man lead. One grabs the stem while the others are at either side of the boat, pushing it toward the shore.

You were lying inside, drifting in and out after spending many days at sea with the sun beating down on you and the cold nights caressing your husk of dehydrated and malnourished form. The gulls were high in the air, crying out while people's voices were nothing but warbles in your ears, and their figures were just blurs in your hazy eyes.

Have you made it? Away... To home?

"Hey, (Name), are you alright? You look a little distant there." This snaps you back to reality; you can't help but make a small sheepish smile. Sometimes you seem much more empty-minded, and today looks like one of the days. "Look, if you're not up for it, we could discuss this another day."

"No, tell me; sorry for tuning you out," you could see them heave a long sigh. Conan Warden is a man who moved to the island about a year ago from the metropolis life. They were a frequented beach boy/ surfer back in their hometown who loved the ocean more than anyone there, and his moving out here to Bordeia Island felt like the right move for them. Conan felt like a perfect slot with the Islanders here; his charm makes him a pretty, unique person.

There was a moment of pause before they repeated themselves for you again. "As I said, a research team would visit the island in a few days." You settle down a mug of coffee before Conan, waiting for him to continue, "They want you to help assist them in their research." You look at Conan with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. Then a snort emerged as you quirked both brows and sat across from them.

"Do they want my papers or something? I could always give them that," you muse out, but Conan gives you a look of 'Really?'

"No, (Name), they want you fully assist them by going out in the open sea," suddenly, you felt blank hearing those words. A ringing comes into your ears. Conan saw how you had that distant look in your eyes again, and his russet hand crossed the table to tap your arrow cradled around your coffee mug. Every time Conan mentions the sea, this is the response he gets most time. It's not like he doesn't know, but he does learn to a certain extent why you don't venture out in the sea anymore. The locals were quite vocal about your sudden disappearance, along with a few marines biologist, considering you have been a resident for about a decade.

"You know I can't do that," you said; it was already hard enough for you to face the trauma that still lingers around you like a ghost. Suddenly standing up, you take deep, shaky breaths, and; your heart rate picks up as you try to shake off the jitters that seem to take hold of you. Your mug slipped through your fingers and spilled across the table. "Fuck! Shit!" Flicking your hand, some of the hot content got onto the back side of your palm.

Conan helps you grab a nearby wash towel and clear the liquid before tossing the rag into the sink. "Sorry, I didn't mean to act like that," you said with quick breaths, running cool water over your burned hand. You close your eyes to refocus as you train your ears to focus on the running water and the sensation to distract you momentarily.

"You know it's fine; I didn't think it was this bad," Conan was concerned. He couldn't say much; your trauma wasn't something he could ever truly phantom. Conan could only understand to some degree and be empathetic about it, but to fully sympathize with you, he has to go through what you went through to know how it affected your daily life honestly. "You know what, I could tell them to fuck off for you; how does that sound?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. Who is leading the team?" You ask, getting your bearings together and shutting your eyes tightly for a few more seconds. Tilting your head up, you open your eyes and look at your flat white ceiling.

"Um, hold on" Conan search through his pockets, and you shut and turn off the tap water. Gently wiping your hands dry, Conan pulls out a paper, "Some guy name Watanabe Morisuke." You tense up at the name; Conan notices but doesn't say anything. He thinks you have too many jumpscares at this point and that another might add to your untimely demise, making him pretty sad as he considered himself your best friend.

You take the form presented, and a picture at the top left corner is shown. Skimming over the information, you see how Watanabe's head is full of grey and black, mixing like yin and yang.

"I tried to ask for more information, but I was cut off rudely by Professor Eugene." Conan pouts; he mimics Eugene's speech in an annoying high pitch voice.

You laugh as you felt much calmer and put the paper on a countertop. It would help if you remembered to apply cooling gel cream on your supposed upcoming burn that will blister.

°

It was only barely ten a.m., and the sun was already high in the sky, with the heat downing any fisherman or anyone who ventured to the beach. But in the shade was a cool breeze, shifting through. A few days passed, and out in the open sea, a boat was approaching the shore.

The locals used to tourists waited at the pier and were ready to fetch the boat.

Watanabe Morisuke got off the boat and looked up into the sky to see seagulls flying above his head before walking to the land where the pier and boardwalk are connected. His team followed behind him.

"Ah, you must be Watanabe Morisuke, (Name) sent me." Conan came to greet the older man, who pressed their lips tightly. Conan grabs their hand and shakes it with high enthusiasm that Watanabe has to rip their hand out of their hold.

With the boat coming closer, it stops next to the pier. A thick mooring line was thrown down at the wooden boards as a local picked it up to tie an eight-figure on a cleat, then did the same with the other mooring at another end.

"That child could've got me herself; how uncouth of her to send someone in her stead." They frowned, lips thinning. But Conan thinks that that's their natural expression. Without much thought, he explains why you couldn't be there to pick him up.

°

You were pacing back and forth in your house, chewing your lips as you kept tugging the string from your shirt at the height of the collarbone. Your eyes keep drifting to your front door, and most of all, you want to focus on anything, but your house is too quiet. The radio you bought would've helped you, but it's broken. The distant sea raptured inside your ears clear as day like a haunted melody, so your steps suddenly halt. You could almost hear a voice calling you, groaning at you with longing—withering woes of betrayal and agony along the line. Still, a lingering subtle feeling of forgiveness was weaved into the song.

But it gradually got louder and louder until the sound wasn't just whisperers anymore; you felt your skin crawl and the hair on your body spike up. A feeling slowly rouses up in your chest, and the emotional pain seeps and spread like a plague. You shudder a broken breath before your throat closes on you, and breathing becomes much more complicated.

"Don't leave me."

'It's just your brain playing tricks on you.' You tried to convince yourself.

"Come back home. To me."

Their harmonies echo inside your head; you don't want to hear them. You use loud music and noises as sounds to block and cope with things when some days are harder to deal with, like today—the voice you want to forget always returns randomly, and sometimes when you're unfocused or distressed, you think. But walking out of the door and towards the sound was tempting whenever your head heard it. Snapping back is hard without a good startle when a yearning clouds your logic and instinct.

'Why isn't it going away?' You grip and pull the string.

"You said that you would stay."

You jump when your doorbell resonates loudly in the living room, enough to bring you back from your anxiety. Shakingly soothing yourself as you tried to calm yourself with a few deep breaths, you went over to the door and opened it to be greeted by Conan and Watanabe.

Conan didn't miss how alarmed you were but didn't bother to point it out, and there are times you appreciate that he doesn't divulge when people are around. You greeted Watanabe, "Hello... Uncle." Conan squawk; he then looks in between you and the older man with disbelief. You and this man doesn't look the slightest related.

Side-stepping to allow both men in, Watanabe hauled his many suitcases and also made his displeasure known, "Pompous girl, you know how much I detest strangers." Watanabe's eyes flickered toward Conan for a quick second, then made himself at home. Conan didn't look offended at the comment, but instead, he thought, what an ass and insufferable being your Uncle must be.

"I don't like him at all," Conan stands next to you, leaning while whispering into your ear. There was a side glance of agreement coming from you. "How is your hand, by the way?" He continues to whisper, and you show him the bandaged hand and give him a shrug as your answer. Then you turn your attention to your Uncle.

"How long are you planning on staying here?" You ask, wiping your palms down your pants legs.

Your Uncle, who, not even five minutes into your house, sprung his suitcases open and claimed your living room as his. He took most of his clothes out and threw them on the armchair adjacent to your couch. For your coffee table, it had become his research table when he strewed files of papers across it, and it soon became a mountain.

"I just came here on impulse; I have no explicit time on how long I will be staying here." Watanabe's answer got you scratching your head because that's a first. Usually, your Uncle would make a timetable of his schedule since he's a punctual man. "Go get me your papers, girl." You give Conan a look of 'see the shit I gotta deal with?' before going to your room to retrieve what was requested.

You could hear Conan snort behind you.

°

From a distance away from the island, out in the open sea, a figure swam across the blue water gingerly. They have been trailing along Bordea's coast for a few years. Constantly rumbling a song to lure someone out, it was unsuccessful, but defeat wasn't something in their morals of value; their dark sclera and bright forest green eye peered through the navigation of palm trees and high bushes. The furthest they could see were a few houses behind the tall debris.

The hours passed, and the sun dipped low enough that only a fraction of daylight remained. It gives the creature a lot of shade under the giant leaning Live Oak tree to be obscure from any human sight. The sky has darkened to a deep hue of burnt orange and magenta, with dark violet now dominating most of the space in the sky. Even stars of multiple colors and sizes are beginning to litter around their perfect location.

Toji, the merman, was a sea creature that only existed in fairy tales, myths, and stories and was the dominator under the reefs of Bordea Island. He was a light blue-skinned humanoid merman with no fishtail to accompany the original stories. Instead, he has two functioning legs with fins attached to his legs and arms and sharp claws of webbed hands and feet. With veins that are a deeper shade of blue mixed with purple, they were visible across his skin.

Entering through the entrance, they kept going until an opening was above them, and they went up. Toji's head broke through the cave's water surface, and they swam until the water got shallow. They were nearing the dry flat surface of the lair.

The merman lingers for a few more minutes, swimming under the shaded oak, and then sinks beneath the surface. They glide past the corals and go deeper and deeper until an opening of a cave entrance is in their view. A school of fish scatters away, and even sharks that linger nearby make their escape too.

Inside the damp, moist, warm cave, it was quiet besides the dripping drops of water that fell off the stalagmites that hung above. It would let ripple sounds that bounce off into the space. Toji hoisted himself out of the water, the side of his neck was his gills that would move once or so, and unlike his other variations of kin, Toji was capable of surviving out in the open air as long as his skin and gills were able to saturate and constantly absorb damp moisture to prevent him from drying out.

To him being different wasn't the problem, but the prejudice that comes with it. Toji being a merman without a tail, was considered a bad omen. Thus, he was shunned by other merfolks who were born with a tail. Being treated differently was something he had grown accustomed to over time.

But one thing they should be wary about Toji is his prowess; even if he doesn't have a tail, he can annihilate one or more enemies in a single moment. If the man was powerful enough to take a shark and orca with one swoop of bare hands, do they think their spears made from the most robust shells would be enough to stop him?

The answer is definite; it's a no.

°

It was dark, a quarter till twelve; if another quarter passed, a new day would start. You were lying in the bathtub; the water had now turned cold. Your Uncle Watanabe was asleep in the living room, as you were sure you were one of the few individuals still up.

Your injured hand from days ago hangs over the tub; you raise it until it's high enough. You wiggle your fingers to play with the lighting to create shadows above your face. Staring at your hand, you see the tendons flex underneath every twitch under your skin. But your hand wasn't mar at all. It looks like it was never burned in the first place.

[ambrossart]

DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART TEN (FINALE)

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend.

❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader  ❖ word count: 11,785 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

Stepping back into that dance hall was a lot like being jolted awake from a sweet sleep.

For a moment you were stuck, caught somewhere on the threshold between the real world and the dream world with one foot on either side: half awake, half asleep, barely there… if you were even there at all. While you were sleeping, reality had continued playing like a movie you had forgotten to turn off. It hadn’t stopped for you, hadn’t paused, and now you were struggling to comprehend the plot, fighting to find your place in a world that had left you behind. You stood outside of it, looking in, but you couldn’t muster the strength to take that final step, to wake up fully and abandon the dream forever.

Because it was such a lovely dream, wasn’t it?

And now it was over—dead and soon to be forgotten, like so many dreams before it. Already, you could feel the memories fading further and further away. Sitting next to Eddie. Hearing his laughter. Seeing his smile. Feeling the warm press of his lips against yours. (You touched your finger to your lips. They felt so cold now.) These images drifted through your mind like a slowed-down piece of film; then they were just… gone. They abandoned you cruelly, slipped through your fingers like tiny grains of sand. You couldn’t get them back now even if you tried. They were floating away: back down that long hallway, back to that closed door that seemed so far from reach. You knew there was no going back, not anymore. Even if you laid your head down, even if you forced your eyes closed, you would never be able to return to that same dream. The door was shut, locked, sealed away forever.

So now here you stood on this threshold, unwilling to go but unable to stay. What choice did you have but to get up and face reality?

You walked into the hall on unsteady legs, feeling a step out of sync with everyone else. In the background, “Love My Way” by The Psychedelic Furs chimed hypnotically and made the room feel sleepy and surreal, as if the whole world was moving in slow motion and you alone were unaffected. People brushed past your elbow and seemed not to feel you. Eyes met yours and looked straight through you. Could they not see the red streaks in your eyes? The blotchiness of your makeup? Could they not tell that you were one “Are you okay?” away from a total breakdown? Did anyone even care?

Here you were, experiencing the greatest tragedy of your teenage life and—nothing, not even a ripple in the water!

You could feel your heart shattering into a million pieces, feel the shards of it tearing you up inside, but no one else could see your suffering. It was like that old philosophical thought experiment: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

If no one else could sense your heartache, was it even real?

You placed your foot on the step below and felt your heel slip out from underneath you:

down,

down,

down!

A gasp escaped you. Your broken heart leaped into your throat. You caught yourself on the railing, looked down, and saw that your shoe had come loose. It was lying on its side, the faux leather strap barely clinging to your ankle. You must have missed a notch when you re-buckled it, after you…

Here ya go, Cinderella.

Eddie’s voice made you jump. It came to your mind so clearly, as if he was standing right next to you. You sat down and buckled your shoe, then looked over your shoulder and wondered, Is it too late for me to turn back? Is he still there, waiting for me?

(No, probably not.)

Yeah, probably not… I wouldn’t wait for me, either.

You pushed the thought away and walked on. Down the stairs. Along the edge of the dance floor. To the table—your table—where Chrissy Cunningham was sitting alone with her back to you. She was slouching in her chair. Such a terrible habit.

You dropped down beside your best friend, molded your lips into something of a smile. “Oh my god, Chris, you would not believe the line in the ladies’ room…”

Chrissy turned at once, startled, her eyes red and glassy, bottom lip trembling. “I thought you left,” she said, her brows drawn together in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “I thought… I thought…”  

“What?” you said, and gently swept one of her loose hairs back into place. “You thought I’d miss your coronation? Come on, Chris, I’m not that self-absorbed.”

Chrissy shook her head as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I don’t care about the stupid coronation! It’s a cheap, plastic crown that I’ll just throw away in the morning.” She bent her head and sniffed, then wiped her runny nose on the back of her hand. “I didn’t come here to be named prom queen. I came here to have fun with my friends, with my best friend, and I’ve completely ruined everything! This night has been a total disaster, and it’s all my fault. All that stuff with Chance… and with Eddie…”

Your whole body stiffened with dread. No, please, no… I don’t wanna do this right now, not when I’m finally starting to…

Chrissy seized both of your hands in a desperate grip. “I’m so, so sorry! I swear I had no idea he came here for me. If I’d known, I never would’ve encouraged you like I did. Oh my god, I feel so stupid! Here I am, telling you to go for it and put your heart out there, while he…” She squeezed her mouth shut, choking back emotion. “I didn’t know he liked me. I swear I didn’t. I don’t even know why he likes me. I mean… I mean… I think I said good luck to him once at some talent show back in middle school, but that didn’t mean anything! I was saying good luck to everybody that night—everybody, even that kid with the creepy puppet, and he almost threw up all over me. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” you said, and managed a laugh. “It was hilarious.”

Chrissy laughed too, despite her tears. “No, it wasn’t. It was disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” you said in a teasing voice. “Look at you, Cunningham, you’re a total mess. Come here.” You grabbed a napkin and started blotting her eyes dry. “Your nose is running. Your mascara’s all over the place. If you go on stage looking like this, everyone’s gonna think you’re a lunatic.”

Another tear slipped down Chrissy’s cheek, painting a black line down her face. You wiped that away, too.

“I just don’t want you to hate me,” she said.

“What? Hate you?” Those two words didn’t even belong in the same sentence. “Chris, I could never hate you. You could go on a massive killing spree tomorrow, and I still wouldn’t hate you. In fact, I’d be right there with you. Be the Bonnie to your Clyde. And then I’d take the rap for you because you’re way too soft for prison.”

Chrissy breathed out a laugh, but the misery never left her face. “I feel like I’m always taking things from you,” she said. “And you like him so much and—”

“Chris, if it wasn’t you, it was just gonna be someone else. And I’d rather it be you. I really mean that.” It hurt you deeply, but it was the truth. “Besides, I can’t say I blame him. I mean, look at you. You’re sweet and smart, and gorgeous. And yeah, your jokes are corny as shit, but hey, no one’s perfect, right?”

No, Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t perfect, but she was probably about as close as anyone was ever going to get.

“Everyone likes you, Chris, and I love you to death, so… it just makes sense, doesn’t it?” A lump formed in your throat as you said this. You tried to force it down, but…

Chrissy’s face tightened with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

Finally. There it was, the question you’d been craving and dreading all at the same time. You felt so wonderfully vindicated—vindicated and a little relieved, and now you didn’t know whether to pump your fist in victory or fall into Chrissy’s arms, sobbing like a child.

“See, this is why you’re my best friend, Chris. You’re the only one who can see through all my bullshit. You’re like Superman with that X-ray vision.”

“What happened?” Chrissy asked. Her hands were still holding yours—a looser grip, but somehow no less strong.

You cast your eyes away, started chewing on your bottom lip. “I just… You know, tonight’s been very eye-opening for me. I’ve learned a lot about myself. Swallowed some hard truths. They certainly didn’t go down easy, but… I think I’m finally starting to get it.”

It had all snapped perfectly into place, like a bullet into a chamber.

“You know, this whole time I thought my weight was the issue. I thought that was the one thing holding me back in life, and if I could just fix that one thing, then I’d be happy like everyone else. I thought I would blossom overnight, like in all those dumb movies.” Your expression darkened, wilted. “Well, that didn’t happen, did it? I lost the weight and nothing changed. I didn’t get any happier. I didn’t get any more confident. I’m exactly the same. So now what’s my excuse, huh? If it’s not my weight, then what is it? What’s wrong with me? I couldn’t figure it out before, but I see it now. In fact, it’s become pretty fucking obvious. I think I’m just a really unlikable person.”

Chrissy winced at those words. “No, you’re not…”

“Yes, I am! I’m a really, really nasty person. I know I act like I’m just joking around, but I’m not. I’m a massive bitch to everyone, especially myself. You were right, Chris. I’m the one getting in the way of my own happiness. Life gives me lemons, and I just eat them raw, like an idiot. And you know, I bet whoever’s giving me those lemons is standing there thinking, Bitch, what are you doing? Are you trying to make yourself suffer? Yeah, that’s exactly it! I think I’m determined to stay miserable. That’s why I keep eating those lemons instead of, you know, making lemonade or lemon tarts or whatever the hell else you make with lemons. I dunno, I’ve never really understood that expression. I mean, some people actually prefer sour things. And I hate lemonade. It makes my throat all scratchy whenever I drink it.”

Chrissy’s hands tightened around yours and pulled, drawing you close, forcing you to meet her determined gaze.

“What happened?” she asked once more.

Once more was all it took.

Suddenly, you felt the dam break, blurring your vision and making your dry eyes sting. “I fucked up again, Chris,” you said in a high, squeaky voice. “I tried really hard, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make that paper fortune come true.”

Chrissy raised her eyebrows quizzically. Right, she had probably forgotten about that.

“It’s that voice, man,” you went on, dragging your forearm across your tear-drenched cheek. “I know you tell me not to listen to it, but it’s so hard! It just whispers and whispers and whispers, telling you all these little half-truths. And after a while, you start to believe them because they make just enough sense, you know?”

Six years ago, that’s exactly how it got you. Yeah, Scott Sloman wasn’t the only demon trying to tempt you that day. There was a second demon—a dangerous, deceitful one—and unlike Scottie, it never broke character.

It whispered to you sweetly, sounding almost like a friend, like a good ole pal just trying to look out for your best interest (because that’s what friends are for, right?). It reminded you, so considerately, that summer was ending soon. In a few weeks, the campaign would be over. Eddie would be going off to high school and you would be left alone with nothing but this stupid journal that you clung to so tightly. A lovely little souvenir of your time together, that’s what these three months had given you. Congratulations, kiddo. Now you get to spend the next two years flipping through it while he moves on and forgets all about you. And Eddie would forget about you. That was all but guaranteed. Sure, maybe he would wait for someone else—someone prettier, someone like Chrissy, but certainly not for you. No, he would probably forget about you within a week’s time. Y/N, who? Sorry, that name’s not ringin’ a bell…

And then you began to think this was all a huge mistake. You’d waded too far into the deep end of the pool and your feet could no longer touch the bottom. Now you were left with two choices: stay in the deep end and risk drowning or reach for the life preserver that Scott Sloman had just cast into the water.

Deep down, you knew the right choice, but your survival instincts were way too strong. You accepted the demon’s bargain. Signed your name in blood.

After that, there was no going back.

Scottie’s eyes widened when he unfolded the paper and saw your answer.

“The deal is done,” he announced, and then discreetly tucked the paper behind his screen. “The demon’s offer has been accepted.”

The room went so quiet after that. All you could hear was the sound of a single pencil scratching against notebook paper. Eddie had no idea what was going on. Everyone at the table was staring at him, and he was just scribbling away like everything was fine, like you hadn’t just sharpened your dagger and plunged it straight into his back. His foot kept brushing against yours. Every once in a while, he would throw you a little smile. Meanwhile, you sank deeper and deeper into your chair, hoping the seat would collapse and suck you in like a vacuum, send you spinning through time and space and trap you in an alternate dimension. Your left arm hugged your stomach. Your right hand found its way to your mouth and hovered over it.

“Shit,” you whispered into your palm, and that’s when Eddie finally put down his pencil and looked up.

“What?” he said to everyone. “Is it my turn already?”

“Dude,” said Gareth, his face long and grim, “did you not see what just happened?”

“No,” Eddie answered slowly, with a touch of unease. “What? Did I miss something big?”

Gareth’s head bobbed. “Yeah, I’ll say… You’re dead, man. She killed you.”

Eddie’s back straightened in surprise. Then his eyes fell on you, heavy yet hopeful, like he was waiting for you to bust out laughing and tell him it was all a friendly little joke.

“What’s going on?”

The innocence in his voice made your stomach churn with regret. You kept your hand over your mouth, muffling your words with your knuckles. “I sacrificed… the ultimate power.”

Eddie leaned closer, squinting. “What?”

You lowered your hand and cleared your throat. “I sacrificed you to a demon for the ultimate power,” you said, and saw Eddie recoil from you, his eyes widening into an expression of startled hurt. It was the same stunned look he gave you tonight, right before you walked out of the restroom.

I’m really sorry, you said with your eyes, but that apology was soon drowned out by the sound of laughter. Your laughter. It came out of nowhere and spread through you like wildfire. You laughed while Eddie yelled at Scottie and demanded he intervene. You laughed while he huffed and puffed, muttered something about you being dead to him.

(Oh, shit, there it is, you thought now with a sudden spark of clarity. Yep, now I remember that.)

You told him to quit being such a baby. “Come on, it’s just a game, Munson!”

Then he tore up the stairs with his backpack half-zipped and flopping behind him. It’s better this way, that little voice told you. I know it hurts now, kid, but just think of how bad it could’ve been. Think of the pain you would’ve suffered once summer ended. Just think of it and you’ll understand. This wasn’t an act of betrayal. No, this was an act of mercy. You just did yourself a huge favor.

You wanted to believe that, you did, but then you noticed the piece of paper lying on the floor. It was Eddie’s character sheet, the one you had made for him. It must have slipped out of his binder while he was hurrying to leave.

(Or maybe he left it behind on purpose.)

Then you remembered how hard you had worked on it, how nervous you were to show it to him. You almost chickened out and went home with it in your backpack, but you were so glad you didn’t because the smile he gave you made everything worth it. It felt like your first major breakthrough, like you were finally on the right path with him.

And now…

You snatched the paper and ran after him. Nearly tripped on the steps, you were going so fast.

Eddie must have assumed you would come after him because he was waiting for you at the top of the stairs. This made your heart flutter with such hope… until you noticed the anger smoldering in his eyes.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked in a sharp, demanding voice. The strength of it almost knocked you off balance.

“What do you mean, why did I do it?” you said. “My character’s chaotic, Munson. She’s a wild card! God, you’re acting like this is the first time I’ve ever betrayed you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and took off again. Blew through the Slomans’ kitchen like a fierce winter storm. You went too, and turned quickly to avoid hitting the counter’s sharp corner. Meanwhile, Mrs. Sloman was at the stove, stirring a pot of tomato sauce for dinner. She looked up as you two passed, then sighed and went back to stirring.

To Eddie’s back, you said, “Oh come on, Munson, I betray you on a weekly basis. It’s part of what makes our dynamic so special. I betray you, get us both into a lotta trouble, and then you save the day and we laugh it off and forget it ever happened. Wash, rinse, repeat.”

“Yeah, well, this is different,” Eddie said. “Yeah, this is the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

“Seriously? It’s worse than the time I abandoned you in that sand trap? Worse than the time I stole all your money and gambled it away? Worse than the time I tripped you when we were being chased by goblins in the never-ending caves? Come on, don’t be so overdramatic.”

“I’m not being overdramatic,” he said, and cut through the living room. Mr. Sloman was napping on the couch while Sunday afternoon football played on the television. Eddie saw him and lowered his voice into a harsh whisper. “I mean, do you even realize what you just did? My character’s dead now. I can’t play as him anymore.”

“So create a new character!”

“Create a new character? Are you fucking kidding?”

You cringed at the abrupt shift in Eddie’s tone. Mr. Sloman snorted in his sleep and rolled over.

“Okay, so don’t create a new character,” you replied in a waning voice. “How ‘bout we make a brand new adventure out of it? We can call it ‘Journey into the Underworld: The Quest for Munson’s Soul.’ It’ll be kinda like the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice, but don’t worry, I promise I won’t look back.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Eddie yelled, frustration straining his throat. “God, you keep making all these weird, obscure references that nobody else understands… Besides, my soul isn’t even in the underworld. I dunno where my soul is. You sold it to a demon for some stupid, made-up power!”

“SO THEN WE’LL GO GET IT BACK!” you screamed, making Eddie stop and whip around. You staggered backward, shrinking away from him in shame. His brown eyes were hard and cold, colder than you had ever seen.

That’s when it finally hit you: This isn’t like all those other times, is it? This isn’t something we’re gonna laugh about later.

Then Eddie saw the character sheet and—“Hey, gimme that!”—ripped it right out of your hand. You flinched as the paper sliced across your skin, and flinched again as Eddie’s fist closed around it, crushing the little rectangle beyond repair.

“I was gonna give that back,” you started to say, but then you realized it didn’t matter. The paper disappeared into Eddie’s backpack, and you never saw it again. You figured he probably threw it away.

This is it, isn’t it? Somehow, you could just feel it. This is the end of everything.

All these heavy thoughts crept into your heart like water seeping into a cracked ship hull. Now you were sinking in these ice-cold feelings, and there was nothing you could do but try to buy yourself some time. Try to stay afloat long enough to safely reach the shore. And that’s when you felt a familiar instinct take over. Limb by limb, your body started to seal itself off, shut all the watertight doors. It began at your feet and slowly worked its way up until your whole body felt perfectly numb to everything. That little paper cut on your finger, it didn’t sting anymore. You watched it bleed with a hazy fascination and thought of the demon’s contract, of the red pen you had used to sign it.

“Why are you here?” Eddie asked, but his voice sounded so muted, so far away. It was like he was talking to you underwater.

You turned and stared at him with a queer gaze, as if perplexed. “You already asked me that.”

“Yeah, well… you never really answered.”

Because it doesn’t matter, you thought. None of it matters. I’ve already accepted that, Eddie. Why can’t you?

Your silence made him sigh. “I don’t get it,” he said under his breath. “Why can’t you answer one simple question? There’s a reason you joined, isn’t there? You didn’t just wake up one morning and decide you love roleplaying games. So what is it? Huh? Why’d you wanna join our campaign so bad?”

It was painful to think back on this moment now, knowing what you knew. Part of you wished that you had been born two years earlier. Maybe if you were a little older, a little wiser, you would have handled things differently.

But you weren’t older. You were twelve, and in way over your head. You weren’t prepared to handle situations like this. You were too young, too immature, too caught up in your own fears and feelings that you couldn’t see what now seemed so glaringly obvious.

It never occurred to you—not once, not even for a second—that maybe the reason Eddie so desperately needed your answer was the same reason you were so terrified to give it.

Maybe if you knew that, you wouldn’t have said what you said:

“My best friend’s at cheer camp. I needed something to do.”

Eddie cast his eyes up and away, as far away from you as he could. “So you were just bored, then?”

Your shoulders moved on their own, up and down. “Pretty much.”

Eddie took your answer and swallowed it down with a hard gulp. “Gotcha,” he said. “Well, that’s just… great. Yeah, that actually makes perfect sense.”

He hung his head and chuckled at that for a minute; then he started dragging his feet backward, toward the front door. His departing smile was sad and defeated.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to entertain you.” He pushed open the screen door and went out. “See ya around.”

“And do you know what the funny thing is?” you said to Chrissy now, as the memory faded away. “You know what really cracks me up? That should’ve been the end for me. Yeah, that should’ve been game over, insert a coin and try again, but for some bizarre reason, it wasn’t. Yeah, for some reason, he let me keep playing right where I left off. And I got really close this time, Chris. You would’ve been so proud of me. Victory was in sight. The grand prize was right there. All I had to do was reach out and take it.” You made a snatching motion with your hand, then curled your fingers into a fist. “And do you know what I did? I took it and threw it straight into the trash! Isn’t that hilarious? I mean, isn’t that just like me?”

You laughed out loud—a weak, strangled sound. “Fuck me, man!” you said, and wiped your hands across the dampened apples of your cheeks. “God, I need a shrink… Hey, maybe I should have your mom get me the number for hers ‘cause, lemme tell ya, that guy is doing wonders for her. Yeah, that woman’s just full of confidence now, isn’t she?” You gnashed your teeth and cursed. “God, I wanna fight your mom.”

Chrissy cracked a small smile but said nothing. Instead, she stepped forward and gently wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in for one of those perfect, put-you-back-together hugs. Except this one wasn’t so perfect. This one was Scotch Tape when you really needed Super Glue. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it was strong enough to get you through the night in one piece.

Chrissy rested her head against yours. “Look,” she whispered, “I don’t know what happened and I don’t know what you did, but I’m sure it’s not too late to fix it.”

A tear escaped your eye when you heard that. “Yeah, but I think it is,” you said. “I chose to walk out that door, Chris, and now I think it’s closed for good.”

Chrissy released a compassionate sigh. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is the end. But you know what? Even if it is, I promise everything’s gonna be fine. Okay? No matter what happens, you’re gonna be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

You took a deep breath through your nose, exhaled through your mouth, and broke away. While drying your eyes, you said, “How am I supposed to survive college without you? I could barely make it through a single summer on my own, so I dunno how I’m gonna last four years.”

“You and me both,” Chrissy replied with a bittersweet smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

She wiped a tiny flake of mascara off your left cheek. Blushing, you quickly cleaned up the rest.

That’s when you noticed Jason Carver standing far off to the side, patiently waiting for the appropriate time to come over. Once you locked eyes, he took a tentative step toward you and said, “Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah,” Chrissy told him. “Everything’s fine now.”

“Good,” Jason said. Then he turned toward you. “Look, I’m really sorry for—”

You put up your hand. “Jason, it’s fine. I don’t like what you did, but I get why you did it, so… we’re good. Let’s just move on and try to enjoy the rest of the night, okay?”

Jason’s eyes softened with gratitude. “Sure. Thanks.”

He turned away and—

“But,” you rang out, drawing him back, “since you did kinda humiliate me in front of the entire class, I think I’m entitled to some compensation. Wouldn’t you agree? That’s why you’ll be buying me lunch every day for the rest of the year... and that includes all à la carte items, too. I do love those fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies.”

Jason pursed his lips together. “The rest of the year, huh?”

“You can afford it,” you said, and his eyes narrowed with displeasure.

Jason opened his mouth to further protest… only to close it again when he heard Chrissy giggling quietly into her hand. He drank in her laughter with a crooked little smile and said to you, “All right, fine, you’ve got a deal. But you better not take advantage of it, okay?”

“Oh, I plan to. Wholeheartedly.” You put your hands behind your back and beamed at him.

Shortly after, Ms. Kelley came over and said it was time for all the nominees to gather on stage for the announcement of prom king and queen. Chrissy gave you a guilty look and seemed hesitant to go. You nudged her along with your elbow.

“Go,” you told her. “I’m fine, really. Go get your crown, superstar.”  

“I don’t care about the crown.”

“I know you don’t, but I do… because I live vicariously through you, remember? I’m like a crazy stage mom and you’re my pageant queen daughter.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes amiably. “You’re such a goof.”

“I know,” you said, and laughed. “Now, don’t forget to act surprised when you win, okay? You wanna appear gracious and humble, but not too humble. Otherwise, you’ll be like Sally Field at the Oscars and everyone will think you’re a total whack job.”

You beckoned her closer and lowered your voice. “Oh, and please don’t let Jason hog the mic for too long, okay? You know how he gets when he has a captive audience. He just goes on and on and on… I mean, we’ll be stuck here all night.”  

“I heard that,” said Jason, making you smirk.

“Hey, I’m just saying… keep it under a minute, Carver, or else I’ll have the DJ play you off the stage.”

For that, Jason shot you a playful glare. “Yeah, you’re definitely feeling better. Come on, Chris, let’s go.”

He led her away by her elbow. All the while, Chrissy looked back at you with a worried frown.

You made a shooing motion with your hand. “Go! Go! I’m fine now, I promise. Watch, I’m gonna go grab a cup of punch and then take my place among the rest of the commoners. Seriously, don’t worry about me, Chris. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Maybe if you said it enough, it would become true.

And maybe you would stop looking over your shoulder, hoping Eddie would be there.

It was nine fifty-eight. Only one more hour to go.

With your cup of punch in hand, you wandered over to Jeff’s table and found him and Grant conversing quietly while Megan Mulrooney lay snoring upon a bed of clumsily arranged chairs.

“Wow, Grant, looks like your date danced herself into a coma.”

Grant put his finger to his lips, then gestured toward his sleeping prom date. “If she wakes up, she’s gonna wanna dance again, and my feet can’t handle that, so…” He swept his hand across his mouth, pretending to seal it shut.

“Got it,” you said, and zipped your lips, too. You sat down next to Jeff. “So, your date still AWOL?”

“Mhm,” said Jeff with an unbothered nod. “You know who I saw her dancing with earlier?”

“Who?”

“Patrick McKinney.”

You put your hand over your mouth, feigning surprise. “How scandalous! Well, I guess we know who she’s going home with.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Jeff smiled at you, his eyes glowing with sympathy. “We saw what happened earlier. Man, that was tough to watch… How you holding up?”

“Eh, I’m okay,” you said. “Honestly, I don’t really care about that anymore. I mean, what the hell was I thinking, anyway? Chance Gallagher? The guy’s a dumbass. It’s a miracle he’s even graduating.”

Chuckling, you raised the plastic cup to your mouth and

This is kinda my last shot, y’know? If I don’t get that diploma this year, I’m gonna have to get my GED like every other Munson before me, and I really don’t wanna be another cliché…

felt your lips curl against the rim. This tender smile, unbidden and unexpected, remained on your face while you sipped your drink and cradled the cup against your chest.

To Jeff, you said, “You know, I never really thanked you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me all these years. And for sticking your neck out for me.”

“Sticking my neck out? What, you mean back in middle school?”

You nodded, blushing.

Jeff and Grant exchanged bewildered looks. Then Jeff turned back to you with a huge grin. “What’s this?” he said. “You finally getting hit with some of that senior year nostalgia?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, you don’t have to thank me. We’re friends, right? I’d stick my neck out for you any day.” Jeff’s smile faded. When it returned, it was tinged with regret. “You know, I always felt kinda bad about how things ended that summer, and… well, I dunno… I guess I just wish I could’ve done more for you.”

You shook your head doubtfully. “You already did everything you could. I mean, you gave me a shot, right? It’s not your fault I missed.”

You frowned. All this talk was making your heart throb again; with every painful pulse, you could feel the Scotch Tape losing its grip and peeling away. You quickly finished the rest of your punch and slammed your empty cup on the table.

“Wow!” you said. “Look at me making sports analogies… I think I’ve been hanging out with Jason way too much.”

And now the DJ’s filler music was fading into silence. Principal Higgins had taken the stage and was struggling to adjust the height of the mic stand. Some of the students snickered. Principal Higgins gave them a twitchy little smile. Then he straightened his tie, cleared his throat into the mic, and jerked away from the sudden feedback whine.

“Umm, excuse me? Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Finally, you thought with a relieved sigh. You rose to your feet and pushed in your chair. “Well, looks like it’s time for me to head over. Enjoy the rest of your night, gentlemen. I’ll see you two on Monday.”

You waved goodbye, took a few steps and

“Hey, Y/N?”

turned back to look at Grant. “Yeah?”

“Look, this probably won’t help much, but I think it’s something you need to hear.” Grant rubbed his neck pensively for a minute. He glanced at Jeff and received an encouraging nod. “Umm, that day, I know Eddie said he was quitting the campaign and everything, but you gotta know he didn’t really mean it. He was just mad and needed to go home and blow off some steam. He came back for the next session.”

You sucked in a breath. “He did?”

“Yeah, he did,” said Grant, while Jeff looked at you with a pitying frown. “And, umm, obviously I can’t really say for sure, but… I think he was hoping you’d be there.”

“Really?” you said, and let Grant’s words sink in for a minute. “So, basically, you’re saying if I’d just sucked it up and gone to the next session, I might’ve—” You clenched your jaw tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to rip you apart. “Wow… You’re right, Grant, that didn’t help at all.”

You spun around and shouldered your way onto the dance floor, desperate to lose yourself among the gathering crowd. On stage, Principal Higgins was rambling about the future, talking about how far you’d all come, how you were about to move on to bigger and better things…

But I’m not ready to move on, you thought. Not yet. Not without—

You looked over your shoulder, squeezed your eyes shut, and turned back around.

God dammit! Why did I have to join that stupid campaign? If I hadn’t, maybe this would’ve been just another meaningless crush. Maybe I would’ve actually moved on during those two years. Maybe I would’ve noticed someone else. Been noticed by someone else. Shit, maybe I would’ve felt something when Teddy Brubacher kissed me at Katie McDillon’s New Year’s Eve party. Maybe he would’ve been my prom date tonight and—

You whipped around and hissed: “What? What, Teddy?”

Teddy Brubacher flinched away from you, startled. “Well, you were looking at me like you wanted me to come over.”

“What? No, I wasn’t!”

“Yes, you were. I saw you. You were beckoning me with your eyes.”

Teddy’s gaze shifted as he spoke, traveling lower and lower. Disgust churned in your stomach. Anger burned through you like fire. You squirmed away and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Oh my god, I was not beckoning you with my eyes, Teddy. I was just glancing in your general direction, okay? Now, can you please go bother someone else? I’m really not in the mood to talk to you right now.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you look like you’re about to cry.”

“Teddy, go!”

“All right, fine…” Teddy stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered away. “You know, maybe you should stop sending me so many mixed signals. Ever think of that?”

“What? I’m not sending you mixed signals. I’m not sending you any signals! I don’t like you, Teddy. I’ve never liked you. You’re a perverted little cretin that refuses to leave me alone. There. You happy now? Is that a clear enough signal for you?”

Teddy sneered at you. “God, you’re such a bitch.”

“Yeah, well…”

Your throat closed. For a moment, you thought you might break down and start sobbing right in the middle of the dance floor. You didn’t, but your eyes were wet and glistening like mirrors. You hid your face so no one would see and moved closer to the stage.

Keep it together, keep it together… You’re so close. Don’t fall apart now.

It was a quarter past ten, and you were unraveling.

But you put on a brave face for your best friend. Chrissy was standing off to the side with the other prom queen candidates: Sarah Twinley, Jennifer Warner, and Kara Scott. Chrissy didn’t know what to do with herself on stage. She kept shifting her weight around. Crossing her ankles. Folding and unfolding her arms. But all that fidgeting came to a stop when she spotted you in the crowd. Chrissy smiled and gave you a cute little wave. It was such a precious gesture, like a child waving at her parents during a school play. At that moment, all your problems seemed so insignificant.

Meanwhile, the rest of the students were growing restless. A boy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted from the back row: “Come on, save the sappy shit for graduation. We wanna party!”

The crowd cheered and hollered. Principal Higgins motioned for silence.

“Quiet! Quiet, please. You can all return to your party in just a minute, but first let’s have a round of applause for this year’s prom court!” The audience applauded half-heartedly. Principal Higgins stepped away and began clapping himself. Then he drew a card from his breast pocket and returned to the mic. “All right, seniors, and now the moment you’ve all been waiting for… The votes are in. We counted them twice. Your 1986 Prom King and Queen are… drum roll, please… Jason CARVER and Chrissy CUNNINGHAM.”

Applause broke out and filled the hall, honest and proud. You were clapping from the third row, a placid smile tugging at your lips. Congratulations, Chris. No one deserves it more than you.

Jason and Chrissy stepped forward with gracious smiles. Sashes were draped over them. Crowns were brought out and placed on their heads. Chrissy’s landed a little crooked. She gently nudged it into place with her hand, then blinked as a bouquet of red roses was suddenly thrust upon her.

Principal Higgins boomed into the mic: “LET’S HEAR IT FOR YOUR KING AND QUEEN!”

Applause swelled and the crowd surged. All the basketball players were going wild. The cheerleaders were whooping and whistling with their fingers. You were still clapping, but no longer smiling. All the commotion was giving you a bit of a headache. Then an old, scratchy recording of the school fight song blared over the speakers, and you really started to get a headache.

Back on stage, Chrissy and Jason were posing for yearbook photos: flash after flash after flash. Chrissy’s smile kept slipping between shots. Her eyes darted around helplessly. She wanted to leave. She needed to leave. The lights were too bright. The music was too loud. And this stupid crown refused to stay put! It kept tipping and sliding down her head like it was trying to run away from her, like it knew she was a fraud—a false queen, who was undeserving of its majesty. Chrissy may have been able to fool her classmates, but she couldn’t fool the crown. It had weighed her, judged her, and declared her unworthy.

But still the applause came. It never stopped. The sound poured into Chrissy’s ears and made her feel dizzy, made her feel sick, made her want to pull away and…

And then she felt Jason’s gentle touch on her head, effortlessly gliding the stubborn crown back into place.

“There,” he said with a satisfied nod. “Much better… Man, that must’ve been driving you crazy, huh?”

Chrissy stared up at him, speechless.

“Thank you, by the way, for suffering through this with me. There’s no one else I’d rather be standing next to right now.”

Jason’s smile was confident and his eyes unwavering. Chrissy’s heart soared. She reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“What was that for?” Jason asked, bemused.

“Nothing,” Chrissy said, “I just feel the same way. Come on.”

She took his hand and led him across the stage, down the stairs, to the middle of the dance floor. The audience parted around them naturally, moving in great waves that rippled outward in every direction. You stood still, grounded like a stone. Then the applause died and the lights dimmed, covering the hall in a veil of shadow that made everything feel so painfully romantic. You sighed as it fell over you, and sighed again when the DJ played Cyndi Lauper’s famous bittersweet ballad, “Time After Time.”

It was ten twenty-three, and you were ready to leave.

You stole one last glimpse of your best friend’s smiling face and felt your chest clench with guilt. Sorry to bail on you early, Chris, but I toughed it out for as long as I could.

Now it was time to go home and put this night behind you. Take that long walk up your driveway. Drag your feet up those creaky porch steps. Swipe your hand along the top of the doorframe and hope with all your heart that your parents hadn’t moved the spare key like they always said they were going to, because you didn’t want to knock on the door and face your parents head-on. Have your dad look into your tear-filled eyes and say with panic in his voice, Oh my god, sweetie, what happened? Did someone hurt you? Yeah, because for him that was the worst possible thing that could have happened to you. That was his greatest fear. And then you would feel so embarrassed to admit the truth: No, Dad, nobody hurt me. Nobody wanted anything to do with me! And then you would run upstairs and spend the rest of the night crying into your pillow, just like you did back in middle school.

You weren’t going to do that tonight. You weren’t going to cry in front of your father. You weren’t going to sit through another one of your mother’s useless pep talks, listen to her blather on and on about how beautiful you were, inside and out, and how one day some lucky guy was going to see it. And when that happens, you’re gonna feel really silly for crying over some dumb school dance. Then you would smirk and say something witty and self-deprecating like, So you’re saying I’m gonna fall in love with a blind guy? And your mother would pretend to laugh and say, Yes, honey, and he’ll even think your jokes are funny.

No, you weren’t going to do any of that tonight because you weren’t that pathetic thirteen-year-old girl anymore. You were an adult and fully capable of accepting the consequences of your actions. You fucked up. You made a mistake. It happened. It’s over. Now all you wanted to do was suffer alone in silence.

So, with any luck, that spare key was going to be exactly where it was supposed to be. That way, you could unlock the door and slip inside like everything was fine.

Your mother would hear the door open and tell your father to turn down the volume on the TV. Then she would catch a glimpse of your shadow in the entryway and say, You’re home early. What happened? I thought you were going to the after-party with Chris.

Yeah, I was, but I’m just really tired. Too much dancing, I guess.

Oh… Well, did you have fun?

Yeah, I did.

Then your mother would smile, perhaps even get a little bit smug. See? I told you you’d have a good time, and that would break your heart all over again.

Yeah, you were right, Mom, you would say. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was gonna be.

And you would think, It was so, so much worse.

Then you would tell your parents good night and go upstairs. Wash all the product out of your hair; clean the makeup off your face. Put on your comfiest pajamas, turn out the lights, crawl into bed, and listen to one of your Journey albums because, one way or another, you were going to have your Journey moment tonight. You just wished it was under better circumstances.

And while you lay in bed listening to Steve Perry sing “Only the Young,” while your tears dried on your cheeks and your wet hair drenched your pillow, your thoughts would eventually start to wander; then your eyes would start to wander… over to the tiny crack in your closet door, and suddenly a strange impulse would come over you. You would get up and start rummaging through your closet. Find your old D&D journal inside a cardboard box of long-forgotten keepsakes. Dust it off, flip through a couple of pages, and think,

I could’ve gone back.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake that thought from your head. You could’ve gone back. You could’ve gone back. The door wasn’t locked that day. It wasn’t. You could’ve opened it and walked through it, but you didn’t. Instead, you ran away and avoided the problem like you always did; told Scottie you were done with the campaign and spent the rest of the summer wasting away in your bedroom, alone, waiting for Chrissy to come home and put you back together again, because you thought the door was closed, locked, sealed away forever.

You

could’ve gone back

were wrong.

And that’s when you felt a hot burst of adrenaline shoot through your veins, making your whole body buzz with nervous, excited energy.

Well, shit! If you were wrong then, maybe you were wrong now. And now that you knew this, how could you possibly move forward?

I could’ve gone back.

I could’ve gone back.

This single intrusive thought was going to haunt you for the rest of your life: while you returned to class on Monday and begged your teacher to let you change seats; while you studied for finals; while you stood on stage and received your diploma, had the principal move the little tassel on your graduation cap; while you packed for college; while you unpacked for college; while you wandered around campus for the first time and discovered a D&D club flyer pinned to the student activity board; while you snuck a peek into one of their meetings, got caught, and said with a furious blush, Sorry, I think I’m in the wrong room.

Then, eventually, maybe in a month, maybe in a year, maybe in (God forbid) ten years, you were going to meet someone and—yep, sure enough, that thought was still going to be in the back of your mind. Even on your wedding day, it was going to be there. You could see it now so clearly: you standing at the alter in a white gown, staring at some sorry sonofabitch in a black tux; and right before you said, I do, you would pause for half a second and think,

I could’ve gone back.

I should’ve gone back.

I should’ve

I should

I…

Boom! Another blast of adrenaline. This one knocked you backwards and sent you crashing into another student.

“Oh, shit! I’m—”

You spun around and came face to face with Brittany Wirth’s snooty little smirk. 

“Jeez,” she said, “walk much?”  

“No,” you replied with a wide, open-mouthed grin. “Actually, this is my very first time. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

You walked away, giggling madly as you did. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Wait, am I really doing this? Because this could end very badly for me. Yeah, I could be heading into a real shit storm right now…

And then you felt your legs get heavy, so heavy, and your steps gradually slowed to a stop. It was back again, just like that. With one thought, the anxiety had snuck back into your heart and seized it with a cold, crushing grip. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

What if you’re wrong? that little voice said. What if Eddie wants nothing to do with you now? What if he tells you to get lost and slams the door in your face?

God, that would suck, you thought. Yeah, I’m not sure I could handle that.

But then Chrissy’s words came back to you, quieting all your fears. No matter what happens, you’re gonna be fine, and you knew she was right.

Regardless of how this night ended, you were going to be just fine.

So you took a deep breath, picked up your feet, and kept walking. Pushed through the crowd. Flew past your empty table. Raced up the stairs and saw the door. The closed door.

Closed, but not locked.

You could still open it.

You would open it.  

You surged forward… and suddenly Chance Gallagher was standing in front of you, blocking your path, smiling at you with those perfectly straight, blindly white teeth.  

“Hey, I—”

“Yeah, you can fuck right off,” you said to Chance, and went around him. Then, over your shoulder: “Oh, and by the way, you owe me forty-five bucks, asshole!”

Laughter exploded from your chest, full and free. You surrendered to it willingly, eagerly, let it consume you, let it fill you, let it roll off your tongue, off your lips, and float into the air as you kept walking. Nervous as you were, you kept walking towards that door. And once you finally reached it, once you felt the cool metal handle beneath your fingertips, you

stopped.

It had stopped.

Cyndi Lauper.

Music.

The music, it had stopped.

Why had it stopped?  

The entire hall was dead silent for a moment; then, suddenly, it was alive with the sound of hushed voices, sighs, and stifled laughter. You looked over your shoulder and felt your breath catch in your throat.  

It was ten twenty-six, and Eddie Munson was on stage with the mic in his hand.

It took Principal Higgins all of five seconds to realize what was happening. He put down his punch, slid the silver flask back into his jacket, stormed the stage, and went straight for the microphone.

“Nope. Nope, we’re not doing this tonight. Come on, hand over the mic. Yeah, give it here, son. How about showing some respect for your fellow classmates, huh?”

Principal Higgins reached for the mic. Eddie yanked it away.

“Actually, I have tons of respect for my classmates,” Eddie told him. “That’s why I waited so patiently for you guys to finish. And you… yes, you, sir… you talked for a really, really long time, and now… yeah, now it’s my turn, so…”

Eddie raised the mic to his lips and turned back to the crowd, his eyes clear and focused.

Searching…

Searching…

… and not finding.

“Well, shit,” Eddie said under his breath. The mic caught it anyway and drew contemptuous laughter from the audience. Eddie covered the mic with his hand, then flashed a sheepish smile in the principal’s direction. “Sorry,” he said. “Forgot the mic was on.”

Principal Higgins sighed, put his head in his hand, and started counting the days until graduation.

Meanwhile, Edith Layne was watching anxiously from the fourth row. She sank into herself like a frightened turtle and wondered if she was partly to blame for this disaster. Then she looked over at her prom co-chair and knew she was definitely going to get blamed for this. I’m just way too nice.

On the other side of the room, Brittany Wirth was clawing at her face in terror. Her prom… oh no, her picture-perfect prom! All those months she spent planning, obsessing over every little detail: picking the venue, planning the menu, buying all the decorations, folding all those little white place cards that everyone kept throwing on the floor!

This wasn’t supposed to be happening right now. She was supposed to be humming along with Cyndi Lauper and, instead, she was watching Eddie Munson light the torch and burn all her efforts to the ground!

No, this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!

Brittany threw down her hands and growled. “Ugh, I knew it… I fucking knew it! I knew that freak was gonna pull a stunt like this.” She turned and took off like a charging bull, knocking everyone out of her path. “Outta my way. Outta my way! Move. Move!”

Brittany blew past you on the staircase and almost knocked you over.

“Jeez,” you said to her, “walk much?”

Brittany stopped and sucked in a startled gasp, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. “You’re part of the problem,” she whispered hotly, and then went scrambling up the stairs and out the door.

You watched Brittany go with a befuddled frown. “What did I do?”

Shrugging, you proceed down the stairs and started pushing your way toward the stage.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” Eddie said, staring at a wall of unamused and irritated faces, none so furious as Jason Carver in his gold sash and red velvet crown. Chrissy Cunningham was beside him, grimacing with second-hand embarrassment.

Sweat trickled down the back of Eddie’s neck. “Uhh… let’s have one more round of applause for the king and queen!” He lowered the mic and started beating his hand against his wrist, prompting half the audience to applaud in a stiff, awkward manner. “You two look great, by the way, with the sashes and the crowns. Yeah, they make you both look very… uhh… regal.”

Eddie let the mic fall to his side. It went thump, thump, thump against his thigh.

Down on the dance floor, Jason Carver had heard enough. “Man, this guy just can’t help himself, can he?” He lunged forward… only to be drawn back by Chrissy’s gentle but firm hand.

“Don’t,” she said. “Please?”

Jason gave her a confused look, but did as she asked. Then Chrissy stepped forward herself and started searching for you in the crowd. When she couldn’t find you, her heart sank with despair. Oh, no… please, no… tell me you didn’t really leave. You’ll hate yourself forever if you did.

And now Principal Higgins was trying to grab the mic again.

“All right, son, you’ve had your fun—”

Eddie thrust out his hand defensively and jumped back. “No, just wait, okay? Gimme a second, just one second. Look, I had a plan, and I know it’s kinda blowing up in my face right now, but I’m not getting off this stage until I say what I need to say, and I can’t say what I need to say until she gets here. Okay? So, with all due respect, right now I need you to back off and have a little patience, man, ‘cause she’s gonna be here soon. I know she’s gonna be here… or uhh, at least I hope she will.” Eddie pushed his hand through his hair and frowned. “Actually, she’s probably doing this on purpose ‘cause, between you and me, she’s kinda vindictive like that. Yeah, she just loves embarrassing me and, y’know, making me look like an asshole in front of everyone…”

And then you wedged yourself between two students and forced your way into the front row. Eddie found you instantly. His chest rose and fell in a deep, shaky breath. You crossed your arms in front of you and raised your hand in a timid, apologetic wave.

“Hi,” you mouthed.

“Hi,” Eddie said back.

Maybe it was due to the lights, maybe it was due to the intense rush of relief he felt when he finally saw you, but at that moment you never looked more beautiful.

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He cracked a tiny smile. “It’s funny,” he said into the mic. “I had this whole speech prepared, but now… yeah, now I can’t seem to remember any of it.” He breathed out a quiet laugh, then started tracing his bottom lip with his tongue. All the while, his eyes never left yours.

In the silence, someone shouted, “Get off the stage, freak!” and pockets of laughter broke out among the audience. You winced at the sound, turned, and saw Andy Hauffman give Clay Howard a high five.

Eddie acknowledged the boy’s comment with a bitter, resigned smirk. Then he immediately turned back to you.

“Y’know that word used to bother me a lot when I was younger, and I guess it still stings a little, but…” He slipped into a brooding silence for a moment, his expression reflecting years of loneliness and shame. “All my life, I’ve had people telling me to tone it down, telling me to stop, to ‘try to act more normal’… except you… yeah, for you, I wasn’t weird enough.” His face broke into a bright, misty-eyed smile. “And I wish I could put into words what that meant to me back then, what it still means to me now, ‘cause I think if you knew how I really felt, you’d understand why none of this makes any sense to me. You really thought I’d forget you? Man, I wish I could forget you. Yeah, I wish I could move on and, y’know, kill you off in my head, but no matter what I do, you refuse to die. I dunno, you’re like a zombie or something.”

You scrunched up your nose. Did this man seriously just compare you to an undead, flesh-eating monster?

Eddie saw your face and panicked. “Wait, hold on, that… I didn’t mean to say that. Yeah, I dunno why I…”  

He closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath. “Look, you were right. I came here tonight for someone else… but I stayed for you. I was gonna leave. Yeah, I was getting ready to go home and forget this night ever happened, but then you came running out those doors and you blew right past me, just bawling your eyes out. And I didn’t know why you were crying or why it bothered me so much, but I just knew I couldn’t leave you alone.”

Eddie’s words wrapped around your heart and squeezed so tightly, it made you want to cry. You thought back to the moment he came stumbling into the restroom. The way his eyes bulged when they met yours. You thought he was shocked to see you, but…  

“Yeah… I lied,” he said. “See, I’m pretty good at thinking on my feet, too. Not nearly as good as you, of course, but I can hold my own.” Eddie chuckled a little to himself, his lips curling into that cheeky little grin that always made your brain short-circuit. “Security was never after me. I just made all that up. Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t even think security knows I’m here… well, now they probably do, which means I’ve got about thirty seconds before they come and give me the hook, so I better make this quick.”

Eddie glanced at the door, saw it swing open, then raced right back to you. The corner of his mouth lifted into a tranquil, tender-heartened smile.

“You said you robbed me of my one great memory, but you didn’t… you couldn’t… because you are my great memory. You’re my greatest memory.”

Your heart swelled, overflowing with more emotions than you could process: joy, gratitude, love… most of all, love. You stared up at Eddie with tears in your eyes, wanting nothing more than for him to jump down from the stage, take you in his arms, and kiss you right in front of everyone. If this was a movie like Pretty in Pink, that might have happened, and then you would have danced the night away in a kick-ass closing credit scene.

Unfortunately, this was reality, and in reality, perfect little moments like this always got ruined by big-haired, bumptious bitches like Brittany Wirth.

She marched into the hall with two security guards in tow, pointed at the stage, and said, “There. There he is. Now can you please get that jackass out of here?”

Eddie saw them coming and his shoulders sank in defeat. “Ah, shit, here we go…” His time had officially run out. He’d sung his last song and now they were about to drop the curtain on Eddie Munson’s one-man show.

But first… first, he had one last request to fulfill.

Eddie lifted the mic once more and smiled at you. “I know you really wanted to hear me play my guitar tonight, but uhh, given the circumstances, I hope this is the next best thing.”

He lowered the mic and let it drop to the floor, useless and mute. Over the speakers, a piano began softly, playing a simple but beautiful chord progression that made you clasp your hands over your mouth in surprise. It was “Open Arms.” You were finally getting your Journey moment. It took all your strength to keep from squealing like an idiot. You wanted to laugh. You wanted to cry. You wanted to smack the person next to you and say, See? The perfect prom song. Those bitches should’ve listened to me.

But you didn’t have time to do any of that because Eddie had climbed down from the stage and was about to be taken away by security.  

A burly man in a blue suit said to him, “Come on, kid, it’s late. I’m really not in the mood to get physical with you. So how ‘bout you just leave quietly on your own and make my life a little easier, okay? There’s no need to cause a big scene.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” said Brittany Wirth with an uppity little smirk.  

The other guard turned to her. “Miss, please, let us handle this.”

Brittany’s face flushed a deep, rosy pink. She huffed and walked away.

“God, she’s such a bitch,” Eddie mumbled under his breath. Then to the guards, he said, “Look, I’m not here to argue with you guys, okay? I know I’m not supposed to be here, and I know it’s your job to keep guys like me out. It’s cool, I get it. We’re all on the same page. All I’m asking for is a little time to say goodbye to someone. That’s it. Just a quick goodbye and you guys can drag me on outta here. You can even cuff me, if you want.”

“Do we need to cuff you?”

“Well, no, I’m just…” Eddie dragged his eyes away, saw you, and grew restless, desperate to get to you. He clenched his jaw, clenched his fists, and let out a frustrated groan. “Look, you see that really pretty girl over there? She and I were having a very romantic moment, and you guys, uhh… yeah, you kinda ruined it, so the least you can do is let me go say bye to her.”

The guard heaved an exasperated sigh. “Kid, come on…”

“Hey, man, I’ve already been here for like three hours. What’s another three minutes, right?”

“You can’t stay here. You don’t have a ticket.”

That’s when your hand flew to your chest, and you gasped. “Yes, he does,” you said. “He has a ticket. I… I have his ticket.”

You dove into the bodice of your dress, causing the guards to avert their eyes.

“Uhh, miss…”

“Oh, what?” you said to them. “You think I’m gonna flash you or something? Relax, okay? I just didn’t feel like carrying around a purse all night.” You pulled out the ticket, walked over, and handed it to the blue suit. “There. See?”

The guard casually examined the ticket, front and back, then looked at you. “He’s your date?”  

“Yep,” you said. “He’s my date.”

Eddie gestured toward you and said with a boastful grin, “I’m her date.”

The guard rolled his eyes and grumbled in response. He flipped the ticket back and forth one more time, glanced at his co-worker, and they both shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, “I don’t really care,” and they both left.

Eddie turned to you with grateful eyes. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“Well, I figured it’s the least I could do…” You smiled up at him, nerves fluttering in your stomach. “That was quite the performance you gave back there. Highly entertaining.”

“Yeah, I thought might enjoy it…”

“Oh, I did,” you said. “Yeah, it’s definitely in my top three.”

“Your top three, huh?” Eddie fought back a smile. “And what, dare I ask, is number one?”

Your smile grew into a mischievous grin. “The speech you always give right before finals—you know, the one where you talk about flipping off the principal at graduation?” You bit your lip to keep from laughing, but ended up giggling anyway. “I swear, that speech gets funnier and funnier every year you don’t graduate. Turns out ‘84 wasn’t your year, Munson. Neither was ‘85.”

“Yeah, I guess they weren’t,” Eddie said while staring at you. “I’ve got a good feeling about this year, though.”

His soft, dreamy gaze made you blush.

Then he pointed toward the overhead speaker. “See, I got you Journey,” he said. “Wait, this is Journey, right?”

You laughed. “Yes, this is Journey.”

“Okay, good, ‘cause the DJ gave me a really weird look, probably ‘cause I don’t look like the kinda guy who would ever request Journey, which is fair… Anyway, since we’re on the topic of, uhh, Journey, I think you might be a little too obsessed with Steve Perry, which is cool and all, but uhh… yeah, we’re definitely gonna have to set some ground rules, y’know, once we actually start dating.”

Your heart jumped. “Dating?”

“Wait, I didn’t tell you? Shit, sorry, I’m getting a little ahead of myself.” Eddie folded his arms over his chest and gave a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, way I see it, I’ve gotta squeeze about four years of dating into like four months, so… yeah, I’ve definitely got my work cut out for me.”

“Four years, huh?” Inside, you were screaming. “You really think we would’ve been dating for that long?”

“Oh, you don’t think so? Well, I think so… Yeah, I definitely would’ve swooped in during your freshman year. No doubt in my mind. I mean, I would’ve given you a couple weeks to settle in. Then, when you least expected it…”

You made a motion with your hand. “Swoop.”

“Mhm,” Eddie said, and you both laughed. “So, I dunno what your plans are for the summer, but sorry, they’re all going out the window ‘cause I intend to monopolize all of your time.”

A giddy feeling rose within you. You had to sneak in a quick breath to calm yourself down. “Well, I’ve been warned.”

And that made him smirk. “I love how you’re trying really hard to act like you’re not happy right now, but I can easily tell you are, so…”

Eddie went quiet for a second, his eyes shifting back and forth in thought. Then, out of nowhere, he leaned toward you and said in a low voice, “Hey, you wanna get outta here?”

His deep brown eyes pulled you in like a magnet. “Yes,” you said, “definitely.”

“Good, ‘cause… honestly, I’ve been wanting to leave since I got here.”

“Yeah, me too,” you said breathlessly, unable to break his gaze. “I just, umm, I need to say goodbye to someone first.”

“Sure,” he replied with a nod. “Take your time. I’ll just be, uhh, waiting for you by the door.”

Eddie backed away from you slowly, giving you a lingering look that made you feel dizzy and light-headed. Once he was gone, you pressed your hands against your burning cheeks and thought, Oh my god! Oh my god!

You spun around and spotted Chrissy across the dance floor, watching you with the biggest, brightest smile. You rushed up to her and grabbed both her hands, squeezing them tightly with excitement.

“Hey, I’m…”

“Leaving, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I am…”

Chrissy’s eyes sparkled with unrestrained joy. She pulled you in for a tight hug and said to you, “See? I told you you’re the lottery.”

You pulled away and pecked her cheek. “You’re a goddess.”

“Oh, I like that…” Chrissy touched her face and grinned. “Yeah, let’s keep that one.”

You both giggled, hugged one last time, and broke away.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, you better!” Chrissy yelled, and then watched you leave with a warm, tender feeling in her heart.

Once you were out of earshot, Jason Carver leaned over and said to her, “You’re not seriously letting her leave with that guy, are you?”

And Chrissy said, “Yes... Yes, I am.” She smiled at him. “This was a good night.”

“You had fun?”

“Yeah… I did.”

Jason nodded, looked away, and smiled a little to himself. “Good.”

_________________________

PREV // CURRENT // EPILOGUE

*cries happy tears* It’s finally over!

Okay, I realize some of you may be disappointed that there was no big kiss at the end, but I left it out for two reasons: 1) they already had their kiss 2) it’s incredibly cliched, and I didn’t want to go that route. Don’t worry, though, because there will be plenty of kissing (and then some) in the epilogue “Post Prom,” which will be the first of many, many side stories I have planned for this fic.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

[vladtepesishot]

His vessel.

ao3 link | russian version

second part

warnings: pwp; breeding kink.

notes: this is so rushed and short honestly the more i re-read it the more i hate it

word count:1126

'You see...I am trying to reproduce.'

Those words echoed in my head and immediately were interrupted with another thrust of his cock against my cervix, bringing me back to the present moment. His cock still uncomfortably stretched me out, even after a solid amount of time, but his tongue exploring my mouth did a good job at distracting me. He pulled away when he felt that I'm out of breath, looking me right in the eyes, progressively thrusting harder and harder and letting out a short groan each time. He grabbed one side of my face and brushed his thumb over my reddened cheek.

'Angelic' he said in a raspy voice with his enchanting accent.'Simply angelic.' he then sighed and stopped to take a glance at my stomach. 'That's why I'm making you the mother of my children right now.'

His words sent a shiver down my spine, making my eye twitch slightly. My eyes looked back at him, searching for an answer, waiting for him to tell me that it's just a joke, or even better, a dream, and nothing more. But the coiling at the bottom of my stomach informed me of reality. The reality of Count Dracula's cold body pressing me into his bed, the silk sheets sticking to my sweaty back. His large hands on the both sides of my hips, moving them along with his thrusts. The wetness of his tongue on my neck. Those things made me lose my sanity. How long has this been going on? How many times has he already emptied himself inside me? How did he even put me in this position? All those questions slipped out of my mind when a sweet release finally crashed over my whole body with an audible whine. His movements sped up, he started sucking on my neck, once again painting it red and purple. With a hungry growl, his white cum covered my insides, perhaps for the hundredth time now. Dracula raised his head, looking at my flushed face with a playful smile. I felt him pull his cock out, the uncomfortable sharp stretch nearly making me hiss. His seed spilled out of my slick pussy, but his fingers quickly caught the white drop and pushed it back into me, all while looking into my watery eyes.

'Look at you.' he said, his tone and gaze unusually soft. 'Such a pretty girl.' pause. 'My perfect mommy.' he grazed my cheek with the back of his hand. His cold lips once again touched mine, I kissed back hungrily, my own body wasn't listening to me and I felt him smile against my lips. I melted into his touch, his vampiric hands all over my body, like I was a lump of clay he was molding to his wants. His long fingers lingered over my clit, my body jerking in surprise, yet I couldn't make any sound except a muffled guttural moan while our tongues intertwined. I squeezed my eyes shut as he gently circled my sensitive bud until I had to push him away with genuine force, my body overstimulated and unable to handle his attention towards my private parts anymore. He didn't stop and continued to press himself against me, putting more and more pressure on my clit, murmuring something barely audible, probably something about him impregnating me. I found his hand and grabbed with all the strength I could muster, desperately trying to pull it away, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. Surprisingly, he did. I heard the bed squeaking and noted his absence against my body. My eyes slightly opened, to find his face laying between my legs. I was powerless before him. His pale skinny hands wrapped around my thighs, the sharp nails ever so slightly digging into my flesh. His breath felt like a light breeze against my heated cunt. He looked at my half-lidded crimsoned expression, anticipating for his touch, yet simultaneously rejecting it. At first, he teasingly kissed my puffy outer lips. I placed my tiny hand on his head, gripping the dark hair that covered it. I could feel that his lips got covered in my wetness, as he went on to kiss and then lick my clit. I could feel every little bump on his chilly tongue. It felt so eerie and dreadful to sensate his coldness. His expressions were too alive; his desires were too humane. His desire to reproduce, to impregnate, what could be more human-like? Still, his freezing corpus reminded me of his deadness. Undeadness, to be precise. I wondered, how can he even have children or if he already had any. I couldn't imagine him as a father.

My thighs shook lightly, but Dracula held me in place. He was so eager to please my pussy, he didn't stop even for a second to give me a break, constantly sucking and pecking my clit. I felt feverish, sick almost. I couldn't do anything, but whimper from the tenderness of my small nub. I felt like I could rip his hair off at any moment, if it was even possible. By reflex, I tried kicking him, yet he hadn't moved nor was he planning on doing that before making me cum all over his face. He just laid there, looking at my face, distorted in pleasure and slurped loudly on my dripping slit. Every nerve in my body lit up, he finally loosened his grip on my thighs, giving me the opportunity to shake in my climax. Once again, our mouths connected, as well as our groins. He wasn't wasting any time and his dick was always hard and ready for me. His face pressed into my neck, breathing heavily, which was pretty odd. I leaned further into his touch, almost willing to fuse with him, not only physically, but mentally. The more I pressed against him, the more I felt like we're truly becoming one, hoping that it's not some kind of delusion and he perceives this encounter the same way. I've lost the feeling of time, of reality, everything that remained was me and him; us. I felt another orgasm approach. His thrusts became sloppy, as though he was losing himself in my heat. He raised his head, looking into my eyes. I found his look peculiarly calm and...loving?

'My gorgeous girl. My baby-making vessel.' he said, breaking the long lasting silence. His words made my head spin. I was going insane over him. I hugged him once again, captivating him in my figure. My hot breath tingled his cold skin, my sweaty body sticking to his flesh. Once again, I was drunk in orgasmic pleasure and he was intoxicated with my body. I really was his vessel, I thought.

[grottylittlefox]

How could I ever forget you? Chapter 3

Sebastian Sallow/Professor Sallow x f!MC / reader

Slow burn/fluff/angst, aged up characters 18-mid 20s 🌿

Somehow it had taken until your final day at Hogwarts to finally show Sebastian how you felt, and by then it was too late. Years pass and your distance grows stronger, despite your many efforts for him. A surprise encounter at a new job could change things forever. Finding each other once again at the very place you first met, Hogwarts.

Chapter 1: “I guess this is it”

Chapter 2: “Oh how I missed you”

Chapter 3: “Goodbye Sebastian”

You felt entirely stranded, facing a reality nothing could have ever prepared for you. It was as if the eyes you had so lovingly gazed into had transformed into a stranger within a matter of seconds.

“Y- your girlfriend?” You said ever so sweetly, through the biggest smile you could force upon your face. Every muscle in your body had failed apart from those holding up the edges of your lips with sheer force, puppeteering the most incredible performance of fake happiness there ever was. You could feel your eyes begin to swell, your throat begin to close, but you powered through. Absolutely nothing was going to make you crack, not now.

Ostara, who you’d noticed was violently pretty, tugged Sebastian closer to her. It was the kind of embrace that screamed ‘you’re mine’, and god was it loud. Sebastian had not broken his gaze, as if to torture you even further. His eyes practically begging for some kind of response.

“I-“ you began to grit through your teeth, stumbling for the right thing to say. Ostara just smiled at you, without a single care in the world, as yours was crashing down by the second.

As if by some miracle, you were interrupted, by the only face you honestly wanted to see right now. Natty, briefcase in hand was weaving through the busy pub in an attempt to get to you.

“Hello everyone,” she said with a grin, before noticing what was going on.

“Natty,” Sebastian greeted, finally chiming in to the mess he’d created, as if nothing of note had just occurred. Natty smiled and brought her attention to the girl still gripping him. Her eyes suddenly darted back to you, then back at him, and back to Ostara within a matter of seconds. You could see the tone of her smile adjust as she noticed the sheer panic beaming from your eyes, teeth still gritted together in a stone cold smile.

“MC, would you join me outside for a moment? Ministry business,” she said in an attempt to rescue you. And with a nod and a smile, you got out of there.

The moment you hit the fresh air you were breathless, holding back the tears was instantly harder than ever.

“What- who in Merlins name was that?” Natty questioned, reaching out to you.

“His… girlfriend,” you sighed, staring at the cobblestone path below you.

You could practically feel the anger boiling up inside Natty as she tried to process the situation.

“Why that slimy little-“ she paused, turning to you and grabbing your shoulders. “We are not letting him win, you hear me? We are going back in there and we are going to tell him all about what a high ranking witch you are. We are going to throw ourselves at his teammates. Don’t let him think he’s getting to you, even if he is. I won’t stand for it, okay?”

You nodded as she spun you around and pushed you back in the door. You truly felt relieved that the table was now filled with his other teammates, and that Ostara had finally detached herself from him. With every step closer you felt yourself stray from rationality. It was time for the performance of a lifetime, and you were committed to the role.

You soon found yourself back in your seat, opposite him once more. But this time with Natty beside you, and she was more than ready to fight your battles.

“So Natty, how’s the Auror life treating you?” Asked Sebastian, in an attempt to be polite.

“It’s a thrill, especially with MC by my side. She’s the best Auror-in-training at the Ministry, quite frankly she’s ranking above the qualified wizards. But I’m assuming she’s told you all about that,” Natty lied. You hadn’t even considered becoming an Auror, despite almost everyone pressuring you.

“No,” he paused, raising an eyebrow. “She uh, didn’t mention it.” Sebastian stuttered, barely being able to grasp the information. Flustered, you fiddled with your necklace, staring down at the drink in front of you. You were not a good liar, so you could only hope that he didn’t have any further questions regarding the matter.

“But wow look at you,” Natty continued. “It looks like you finally overcame your commitment issues...”

Sebastian choked on his drink, slamming it onto the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“…With Quidditch of course,” Natty added with a chuckle. Oh she played dirty.

You were practically bright red by this point, desperate for a change of conversation. Thankfully Ostara was too busy chatting with the other players to have heard a thing. However, you kept finding yourself looking at her. She was beautiful, it was no wonder he was in love with her. The way she spoke was as delicate as her skin appeared under the dim lighting, and every so often she would flick her hair behind her shoulder with such elegance. Ostara was everything you wished you could be, and that made it all the more agonising.

As the night went on you found yourself mingling with all sorts of people. There were of course Sebastian’s team mates; Rune, the teams Keeper who was absolutely hilarious. And Cassian, their Seeker who was a little too friendly after a few too many drinks. You had also met a writer called Althea, who worked for the Daily Prophet. The one responsible for all of those flattering articles about Sebastian’s performance. It was pretty clear she was also rather fond of him, but you couldn’t blame her, you supposed. All of the attention he seemed to soak up only made you feel more insignificant as the evening rolled on. You smiled and laughed for his sake, but by now you were only a shell of emptiness. Completely hollow, where his love used to consume you and run through your veins.

“We should probably get going,” Natty said, pulling you towards the door. “I have work in the morning and the Ministry waits for no-one.”

“Alright,” you agreed, “just, let me say goodbye first.”

You took a breath, walking up to Sebastian. He looked so beautiful, you thought to yourself. You didn’t care if you weren’t supposed too. You had always thought that of him, and a couple of hours of torture were not enough to change your mind.

“Sorry to intrude,” you muttered to the group. Sebastian immediately stepped away, almost seeming eager to talk to you.

“Look MC, I-“

“Don’t worry about it,” you interrupted. “Sebastian, I am truly happy for you,” you ached for him, staring into his eyes with everything you had left in you. It hurt you to lie to him, but you had nothing in you to hurt him. Even if Natty disagreed.

You stepped forward, grabbing him into a hug. Once again that warm rush of magic swept through you, making your heart leap into your throat. It was so loud you could have been sure he heard it, no matter how impossible that was. Sebastian lifted his hand and cupped the back of your head, running his soft fingers through your hair. Why. Why, why, why. His affection felt almost evil. Perhaps he still meddled with dark magic after all, because this felt… sickening.

You squeezed him tighter and quickly pulled away, stepping backwards towards the door behind you. Neither of you broke eye contact, taking in the final sip of each other’s essence. It felt like he craved you just as much in those moments, but you knew you were kidding yourself.

“Goodbye Sebastian,” you whispered as you stepped out into the moonlit street. Emotions overcoming you the moment you were free of him, falling into Natty's arms as you released the silent sob that was bottled in your throat all evening. She held onto you the entire walk home, observing the damage that had been done to her treasured friend.

As the door swung shut, Sebastian dabbed away the glint of a tear that shimmered in his eye. Speechless, basking in the silence she had left him in.

He stood there for a few moments, spiralling at everything he didn’t say, before taking a breath and accepting defeat.

“Goodbye, MC.”

Chapter 4

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

I know I already told you and showed you the role I had with Lyle's AI but people also deserve to read about it.😈 and here is the idea that you could use one day: Lyle and reader trapped in a broken elevator at the RDA base. BOOM!💥 I don't know, I'm just saying, think about it🥴

O M G I was literally thinking about doing that!! Final push to do it now!

Recom!Reader x Recom!Lyle

Warnings: Smut, semi-public sex(no one can see them but if they're no quiet someone could hear)

You two were celestial masses, caught in the gravity that pulled you both towards one another. Both moons to ones another's planets or great asteroids destined to crash together.

Every space you inhabited was inevitably Lyle's too. More often that not it seemed like fate that pulled you back together. As humans you'd spent your lives orbiting one another but never touching. Never quiet together but never far apart.

You'd both been through basic training together, just not on the same teams. Then you'd both been assigned to escort the scientists but again not the same groups. The first time you'd even officially met was after your soul-drive had been made. A polite excuse me and nothing else, though Lyle's eyes had lingered on your retreating frame.

Fates boldest move was to bring you back together. Recom bodies grown in parallel tanks, curled to the side to face one another in silent dreaming. Then assigned the same mission, hunt down the leader of the na'vi insurgency.

You had a week on base before they'd have you re-enter the forests of Pandora. Your excitement grew at the opportunity to take in the beautiful sights with your new eyes. Everything sharper, more vibrant and exquisite than before.

More so you grow excited to spend more time with your new friend. Lyle Wainfleet. You'd seen him so many times before as a human. Captivated by his dark eyes but never having a chance to introduce yourself. Now here you were on the same team and he'd come to you.

He was all smirks and jokes, lightening the foul mood your new situation threatened to suffocate you with. Lyle was just as handsome as you remembered, though in new and exciting ways. Same bulking arms and broad chest that made your stomach flutter but vivid striking eyes.

It only took a day before he'd started the flirting. Little comments here and there that you'd taken as jokes to begin with. Even firing back your own remarks. As the days past he got bolder, egged on by your reciprocation.

He snaked arms around your waist, tugging your body to his, nipping at your ear with sharp fangs. All moments interrupted by the other recoms or human soldiers. You'd laugh it off but he was setting a fire in you and each night you went to bed with the feel of him burned against your skin.

Lyle was getting frustrated too. He'd never get away with outright going to your room at night. No there were rules against that kind of thing, so stolen moments were all he could get. He yearned for more, to feel you beneath him, to taste you, to have you writhing and singing his name.

Lyle walked with you down the corridor. Tomorrow you'd both be off, heading out to search for the na'vi base camp. He imagined stealing you away, bribing whoever was on watch to have a couple hours with you. It was filthy, imagining you bare in the wilderness, arching off the dirt.

He snapped back to reality, cursing the twitch in his pants. Then something slapped against his rear. He jumped a bit, looking to you and catching your smirk. Your tail flicked back, slapping his butt a second time. Lyle laughed, then pretended to cough when the soldier leading them shot him a look.

You chuckled under your breath. Moving to swipe him again, his own tail caught yours however. Twisting around it's length tightly. Neither of you were aware how the sensitive skin would feel intertwined the way they were. You bit your lip against the groan and turned your eyes to Lyle. His were blown, pupils hiding the yellow of his irises.

"Right that's it for today, head up to the 4th floor. It'll be a long weeks ahead so you'll want some rest." The soldier turned to them. Lyle quickly untangled his tail from yours, saluting the soldier. He seemed somewhat aware he'd been the last thing on either of your minds but just stomped off.

When he was out of earshot you turned to Lyle, as soon as your eyes met you both laughed. The tension of the moment passing, you entered the lift. A good long shower, a decent meal, then the last sleep on a real bed before tomorrow. That's what you were going to do, though there was something you wanted more.

The lift doors come together as you both do. In an instant Lyle has you cornered against the wall, arms on either side of your shoulders and head tipped down to yours. His lips are on you before you can speak, pressing hard, molding against your own. You react immediately, arms flying around his neck as you moan into the kiss.

You know it won't last, that the lift will ping and you'll pull apart and that it'll be over. So you drink him in, as much as you can get in this moment together. He nips your lip and you part yours, letting his tongue curl around your own. You can't help the way your body arches, pulling flush against his. Lyle's hands roaming, squeezing your ass then coming to tangle in your hair.

Then the ground jolts under your feet, you stumble a little at the sudden movement, pulling away from the kiss. The lights flicker off and for one horrible second your in complete darkness, before the red emergency light comes on.

The lift doesn't move again. You both stand still in the silence for a moment before a voice speaks through the intercom.

"Hello? Hello is anyone in there?" A panicked women speaks.

"Yeah! Recom Corporal Lyle Wainfleet and Recom Private Y/n" Lyle answers back. He's speaking in his commanding officer tone, the one he uses when he's giving out orders. Something in the authoritative tone always set you off. Even now given the situation you can't help the heat that pools.

"I'm so sorry sir!" the women squeaks. "They're resetting the lift now, it shouldn't take too long to get it back working!" She stammers out. "Maybe ten minutes?" She blurts the last part out, clearly expecting to be chewed out.

Lyle's hands roam back down to your ass, slipping the skirt you'd worn up. You blush, briefly concerned at being seen but you couldn't be. The woman had no idea who was in the lift, the camera must have malfunctioned too!

"No worries mam, take your time." He speaks, his attention returning to you. His mouth at your neck, leaving love bites as the woman stammers out more apologies through the speaker. Your trying so hard not to moan too loudly, scared the microphone will pick up your mewling.

"I need you too honey..." Lyle whispers into your ear, nipping the edge between fangs. His hand slips into your blouse, cupping your breast as the other slips further under your skirt.

Lyle loved when you had to dress up for meetings. He'd seen you when you were human, heels clacking on your way to one. Some jackass had bumped you, sent your work flying. Asshole didn't even stay to help. Lyle had moved to you but had stopped in his tracks. You'd clearly not worn a skirt that short in a while and seemed unaware what leaning down like that would show.

The image was burned into his retinas and he'd definitely thought back to it alone in the showers. That flash of lace covered pussy came to him every time he'd glimpsed you since.

Now he felt his fingers skimming against that material. Thanking whatever perverted designer had thought to make the recoms lace underwear. Lyle ran a finger along the clothed folds, the material already wet. He tutted.

"Already this worked up honey?" He smirked, pinching a nipple. You whimpered your hands tugging at his shirt.

"I like when you talk like that." You confessed, his hand on your chest coming up to cup your cheek again.

"Like what buttercup, like what I did to the lady?" He questioned, feeling a buzz running through his veins. You nodded in his hand, your own coming to grip his. His other hand slipped bellow the lace, finding your sensitive bud.

"You like when I'm ordering you about?" He smirked, circling the clit. His mind called back to the drills he'd ran. Thinking about you getting all hot and bothered while he commanded the group. Taking long colder shower to calm yourself.

You let out a louder moan as he slipped a finger inside you, thumb continuing his motion against your clit. The speaker lit up again, the crackling voice coming through.

"Sorry what was that? We're still working to get everything up and running." The woman spoke. You froze, Lyle slid a second finger in, beginning to pump them. You bit your lip against another moan as he curled the digits.

"Nothing mam, we're fine." Lyle spoke, his voice calm. His other hand shifted over your mouth and he leaned in closer. "I'm gonna need you to keep quiet honey." His tone shifting to the authoritative one. You clenched around his fingers, a knot forming in your stomach.

Lyle delighted at the feeling, the knowledge of just what he did to you. He pulled his fingers out, removing the other from your mouth. You let out a quiet whine but your eyes darkened as you watched him suck his fingers clean. He groaned at the taste, wishing he'd have the time to dive down there.

"You ready honey?" He asked, unbuckling his belt. A look of hunger flashed in your eyes as you nodded eagerly. Lyle grinned, unzipping and letting his cock bob free.

Your eyes snapped down to the length, the shine of precum on the tip and the ridges along the girth. You swallowed still eyeing him. Lyle ran his hands down, lifting you behind each knee. You stifled the squeak in his shoulder at the sudden movement. With you pressed between his chest and the wall he could align himself.

Lyle pushed the fabric of your panties to the side, letting your body slide down his length. You pushed your face into his neck, feeling him stretch you out. He was so big, making you feel so full, the ridges adding extra sensation as he went.

Satisfied, Lyle began to thrust up. The small space filled with the lewd squelching and the slapping of skin. You hoped these sounds were quiet enough, that the woman couldn't hear. That no workers were under the box listening to the show.

Lyle groaned against your neck, growling and grunting as you milked him. Your walls clenching around him as he drove deeper. You struggled against the need to make more noise. The pleasure blinding in its intensity, the knot tightening in your stomach till it snapped. You bit down hard on Lyle's shoulder, the waves of ecstasy hitting you as he road out the orgasm.

Lyle couldn't last much longer, the sting of pain, the clenching around him, your scent overwhelming. He came hard, hot cum painting your insides as he groaned out your name.

You both panted against one another. Lyle slipped out, moving your lace underwear over to catch his leaking cum. God it was a sight to see and he wanted it all pressed up against you. He gently placed your weak legs back to the ground, holding your elbows for support. His own wound forgotten as he watched your wobbling steps.

The lights flickered a moment before the voice spoke "Sir! Hello? The lift should be operational now. Sorry for the inconvenience!" The woman chirped. The lift stuttered to life, moving up.

Lyle smirked down at your messy hair, you blissed out expression turning to him. Maybe he could bend a rule and see you again tonight.

[phenomenalgirl9]

Namjoon x Reader: Fast Forward

Summary: How many lovers do I go through to find you, how many heartbreaks do I take just to get to you.. If I could just... Fast Forward.

A/n: Happy Birthday 🎂 to the man who has been my motivation and inspiration. Happy birthday Kim Namjoon 🎉.

W/c: 704

_____________________________________

The moment your eyes had made all those years ago you knew this wasn't just a friendship. You couldn't be just friends with Kim Namjoon. However you fooled yourself into believing that you could. You tried your best to be friends with him for a long time. Truthfully speaking, so did he, and it was difficult for him. But the two of you were too dumb to take the risk to take the first step. 

You both stood there watching the other date, and eventually got hurt. It would keep happening, one would start dating, get hurt and the other would be there to pick the pieces. You were always there to pick the other up. Namjoom was always there when you needed him. When you felt lonely, it was like he just knew. He could read you like an open book, one look at your face and he'd know you're hurting. Whereas, you were the one who kept Namjoon grounded, when he over worked himself, your voice of reason pulled him back to reality. 

However, you were tired of dating and meeting people. Yes, overhearing your other "friends" talk about your inability to hold on to a partner, had nothing to do with it. You simply didn't want to have to go through this process again and again. And you didn't want to end up alone ( of course it also had nothing to do with the fact that you thought that Namjoon would never feel anything for you). So you tried to hold on even if it left you scars. Even if Namjoon begged you multiple times to leave that toxic sorry ass of a person. 

But you couldn't change the fact that he never tried the way Namjoon did. He never made you feel the way Namjoon did. Like when you were down and he took you out on a bicycle ride by the river. Or when you both had free time so decided to visit the skating rink and he held your hand as you wobbled around. The feeling of Namjoon tightly securing his arms around you and his smell fills your senses and numbs your bad thoughts and doubts. Nobody could make your heart flutter the way Namjoon did by just remembering your drinks orders down to details, minding what you're allergic to or what you like. Nobody offered to exchange the plate if you liked the other's dish a bit too much. And so Namjoon is just Namjoon. 

____________________________________

"How long will you watch her be broken time and again?" Yoongi's question came straight and sharp when Namjoon sat on his couch. 

"I don't know hyung? What can I do?" He said, shrugging helplessly. Like every time you held that asshole's hand his heart didn't die a little. Like he never felt like ripping you away from that guy's side and kissing the hell out of you. Did he really pretend to be okay when he hugged you, nonchalant to the way you fitted into his arms so right? 

"You can't let her suffer, especially when you're suffering equally. Even I feel pain at the misery of you two" the older said "isn't it worth it if it makes you two happy?".

Those words thus rang inside his head when he set off for your apartment a few evenings later. "Y/n I-" "I broke up with him" you said interrupting him. And he doesn't know if it was the look in your eyes or the way your lip quivered or Yoongi's word but all his dams broke. He pulled you by your waist and crashed his lips onto yours. He poured every feeling he had, every word he could say to you all these years into this kiss. And you kissed him back, receiving every word reciprocating every feeling and desire. 

"You're so worth it," he replied against your mouth.

"We're so dumb" you mumbled to him that night as you traced imaginary lines on his bare chest. "All this time, we could have just fast forwarded to each other and saved ourselves the heartbreaks" you pouted.

"We're here now, right? We're here to stay" he mumbled as he played with your hair, lulling you to sleep. 

_____________________________________

Other Works

Taglist: @bbl32 @back2bluesidex @cherryblossom-2004

[writerpetals]

when it rains | 🔞

; optional female lead smut |  ☁️

She makes her way to you soaking wet to remind you how much you love when it rains. Strands of hair cling to her face as the raindrops drip down the sides of her grinning lips, giggles mixing with the thunder roaring in the distance as you pull her close.

“You’re going to get sick,” you warn her, just like every other time she manages to sneak away from her chores just as the afternoon thunderstorm rolls in. She makes the hike across half an acre of grass, through the orange groves just to meet you on the front porch of your wooden cabin hidden away from dirt roads and lonely cars passing by. You already have a fire started inside because it’s become such a routine between the two of you by now, and you can barely hear the hot, crackling wood over the pitter-patter of the raindrops against the roof as you motion for her to follow you where it’s dry.

“I wanted to see you.” It’s her typical reply, but it never fails to make you smile. Though you do worry one of these days she will end up sick, you don’t seem to mind the thought of having to take care of her if it happens.

She slips her stained sneakers off by the door as raindrops drip from the hem of her sundress all around. You grin as you eye the mess, and she can’t help but to giggle in embarrassment.

“I’ll clean that up,” she promises as you smile wider, “but let’s get warmed up first, okay?” When she reaches for your hand, you slip your palm against her own before leading her down the hallway of your small cabin and making the first right into your bathroom. The thunder continues to echo throughout the skies, filling your small space with a reminder of the horrible afternoon weather, but you both ignore the sounds for now to begin undressing one another.

With a bitten lip, you slip the thin straps of a summer dress down her shoulders just as she begins to pluck the buttons to your white, flimsy shirt. When she reaches the zipper of your shorts, she wastes no time tugging until she has enough room to slip her fingers inside, coxing your clothes to the floor one item at a time. In the process, you move around her with giggles and laughter, bitten lips and shy smiles until her dress joins your clothes on the floor.

Of course she’s wearing nothing beneath. It’s hard to stop your gaze from wandering. From her lips, your eyes fall to her chest, taking in her shallow breaths before lingering lower to admire every inch of flesh uncovered just for you. While you’re lost in a daze at the sight of her, not even her sweet, familiar giggles can bring you back to reality as she finishes undressing you. Your lingerie falls to the floor to leave you just as bare as her, and now she’s the lucky one that gets to burn the sight of you in her memory forever.

Thunder shakes the earth outside once more, but you’ve done this too many times to care. She reaches to turn on the shower as the sounds of the stream mix with the raindrops hitting the windows. She pulls you close, her grinning lips finally meeting your own to have you melting into her arms. She whimpers against the kiss, allowing you a few seconds to cherish the softness, though you wish she were already warmer from running through the rain.

That’s what you’re good for, you think, a permanent grin etched on your lips as the two of you step past the foggy glass doors of the shower. The warm water cascades down both of your bodies as she draws you in once again. Your lips crash into her own. Her hands find their way to rest against your hips. It doesn’t take long for each of you to begin warming up, feeling her naked, wet body pressed to your own, hearing her little whimpers that let you know she’s been dying to have you so close, touching each other, caring for one another.

When you pull away you swear there are stars in her eyes. She lights up the room and makes your heart flutter inside your chest, but you keep it to yourself for now other than the smile on your lips. You reach for the clean washcloth that you hung across the shower head only hours before when you were busy with washing laundry, making quick work of the suds once you begin lathering up enough cucumber body wash.

She inhales the scent with a smile, relaxing beneath the shower’s steaming stream and the way you begin to tend to her body. You take your time, sparing kisses here and there that make the both of you giggle while you clean her up, warming her skin, making her feel comfortable and safe in your presence. She tells you time and time again it’s why she likes making her way to your place every moment she can get, and you’re just thankful to have her near.

“My turn,” she says, taking the soapy washcloth from you before pressing it to your chest. The heat rises to your cheeks as her gaze lowers to your breasts, watching her take her time cleaning you, running the cloth over every inch of skin until you feel your nipples harden beneath her touch. She notices, confirming the fact as she teases you with a single, soapy finger running around the erect bud until you can hold in your own whimpers no longer. “You’re cute.”

She teases you with a smirk, and the heat takes hold of your entire face. “Don’t tease me,” you tell her, eyes fluttering, in a single breath showing your need for her as she takes the hint. Her smirk fades, turning into a pout, but only for a moment before the devious glint in her eyes returns. She slips the cloth between your thighs as you widen your legs for her, taking a deep breath as you close your eyes and feel her caressing the tender, some-what ticklish skin just below where you begin to ache for her.

She continues to tease even though you warned her not to. She never listens, not about teasing you, or the fact that she will get sick from the rain, and only focuses on what she needs in the moment. Right now, you realize she enjoys the heaviness of your breaths and the way your eyelids flutter open to stare at her. She bats her lashes and grins, dropping the washcloth to press her hand against your folds. Your legs begin to quiver in anticipation, staring into her eyes and noticing her smirk return as she toys along the sensitive flesh of your aching warmth.

Another deep breath is inhaled, and she mutters something about how glad she is to see you. You would agree if she weren’t parting your folds to tease your wet slit in the moment, and you settle on a bitten lip with your head rolling to one side. She takes it as a cue to continue, taking her time feeling the slick wetness begin to drip, mixing with the shower’s stream that continues to heat both of your bodies. She leans closer as she drags a single finger back and forth over your slit, teasing at your entrance just to feel how much you need her, before moving to your swollen clit that is so eager for attention.

“You’re such a tease,” you tell her in a breathy whisper, seconds before your lips crash into her own once again. She lingers for a moment, moaning against your flesh as she plays between your thighs, circling your clit around and around until you pull away in a gasp.

“But I’m your tease,” she replies, playfulness evident in her tone and you can’t help but to shake your head even though you feel the tension tugging between your thighs.

“You’re lucky I like you.” You don’t sound as threatening as you wish due to your voice trembling while you speak, and she can only chuckle as she listens to empty words she knows you don’t mean.

“I feel so lucky,” is all she says, her voice a whisper above the stream of water cascading around you as she eases two fingers to your entrance. A gasp fills the space between the two of you, feeling her slipping the digits inside of you to have your head rolling back against the white tiles. Your jaw slacks as you reach for a grip around her wrist, eyes shut tight but you feel her lips press against your cheek to ease the tension. “Mm, you feel so good around my fingers like this.”

Her voice sends chills down your spine, the reassuring words coaxing your body into a state of bliss as the feeling of being desired mixes with the pressure rising from her fingers inside of you. She pumps deeper, earning a moan of her name in return that fills her with satisfaction, and when her palm presses against your clit to apply pressure to your most sensitive areas, you lose all control with her.

Her name leaves your lips in a tremble, an unsteady breath following another whimper, and it only encourages her need to pleasure you. “That feels… so good. Don’t stop.”

“I didn’t plan on it, baby,” she says, giggling in your ear before leaving kisses along your neck. “I want you to come on my fingers, can you do that for me?”

You nod as your back hits the tiled wall, nearly going limp as the bliss fills every inch of your body. She pushes her fingers deeper inside of you as her palm presses flat against your folds, urging your hips to begin rocking to receive more pleasure from her. You tighten your grip on her wrist as you do so, moaning her name, calling out for her not to stop, not to pull away, that you’re getting closer. She continues kissing your flesh in sweet, soft motions as she encourages you with whispers in your ear, telling you how she wants you to come, reminding you how much she loves it.

As she pleasures you, she never pulls her lips from your body, her hand from between your thighs, and decides to tease and tend to your breasts while she’s at it. She reaches to press a palm to your chest, cupping your breast with one hand while the other thrusts two fingers deep within you, enjoying the way your whimpers become all the more shaky, breathy, and unsteady as she does so. A moment later she brushes the pad of her thumb over your erect nipple aching for attention, and you can’t help but to jut your chest out, begging for more.

“Are you getting close, baby?” she asks, a hint of playfulness in her tone. “You’re getting so wet, and you’re squeezing around my fingers so tight.” With that, you finally notice your walls tightening around her two digits as they effortlessly push in and out of you. The friction of her palm only increases the pleasure, making a mess against her flesh and your own as you rock your hips back and forth. You feel the tension tightening, the heat rising, and the bliss taking hold of every inch of your body.

Before you can warn her, your jaw slacks as your head rolls back, hips stalling as you feel the first wave of pure bliss wash over you. The final thread snaps as your body grows limp, face twisting in pleasure as you cry out her name while coming undone. She never fails helping you through the bliss, continuing to thrust her fingers into you, allowing you to ride out the feeling of being on cloud nine for as long as possible.

When you begin to come down, you take a much needed deep breath while grinning at her. She leans closer, kissing your lips until she’s sure your legs have stopped shaking, and you decide to linger for a moment longer.

She helps you clean yourself up before the both of you step out of the shower, with her reaching for a towel on the rack to her right. She begins drying you off, and you think she’s already done enough for you, but you don’t stop her. You like the attention she gives you just as much as you enjoy her company, and if you were being honest, you like when she is so adamant on sneaking over to your place to see you, even if it means running through the rain with the chance of getting sick.

Together, the two of you make your way across the hall to fall onto your bed, bodies only half-dried, but you tell yourself you will worry about it later. For now, you want to hold her close to you, becoming warm on cozy, clean sheets that smell like laundry detergent, with the rain still falling outside. You get a glimpse of your foggy bedroom window thanks to the curtains always remaining pulled back, lucky enough that you’re in the middle of nowhere and far away from any prying eyes.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” she suddenly says, limbs tangled in limbs and her hand reaching to intertwine her fingers with your own as you lay on your sides facing one another.

Your face twists in a frown. “Putting up with you?”

She bites her lip to try to hide her grin, but ultimately she nods. “Yeah, sneaking over here when I should be helping my family out, picking peas or cleaning stables, you know… the usual.” She exhales a heavy breath, her eyes closing for only a moment as she allows the smile to finally cross her face. “I like it here… with you.”

You prop yourself on your elbow with a call of her name, leaning closer as she stares at you. “I’m doing anything but putting up with you. I like it when you visit.”

Her smile reaches her eyes at that, and she can’t help but to reach for you, bringing you close enough for her lips to meet your own. She holds you there for a moment, cherishing either the time you spend together or the feeling of you so close as your fingertips dance along the curve of her hip. You don’t mind either way, because what you tell her is the truth.

“Thanks,” she says in a heavy exhale when she pulls away, and you wonder how she could ever think anything different, but you don’t question it. You only decide to show her how much you enjoy her company.

In an instant, you’re on your knees before her as her eyes grow wide. Carefully, she watches you as you move closer, lowering your mouth to her lips for only a moment before you carry on. Placing kisses along her jaw and neck earns moans and soft, little whimpers in return, filling you with the same desire to pleasure her just as she did you. As you move lower, you leave soft, sweet kisses in your wake, down her chest, one on each breast and one right in the valley of both of them.

The last kiss makes her giggle, but you realize how much you love the sound because you love when she’s happy, so you carry on, placing kisses down her stomach until you reach her mound. She inhales a sharp breath as your eyes flick up to meet her own for a moment, all before a gentle hand parts her thighs, giving you a view of her glistening slit. With a glance toward her, you notice her eyes close as her chest rises and falls, and you can’t help but to smirk because now she’s the one that has lost control.

As you lean in to press your lips against her mound, you place a gentle grip on her thigh, feeling her quiver beneath your touch. When you continue to press kisses down her slit, she can’t help but to whimper, spreading her legs farther to invite you to do as you wish to her body. The gesture sends a wave of heat through you, eager to make her come undone just as she did to you.

Though you wish to take your time, cherishing the sight of her open and needy, dying for your touch. Savoring the taste of her skin on your flesh as you draw your tongue over her swollen lips from one side, only to tease the other just the same. Burning the image of her fingers digging into the sheets because she has grown so desperate for pleasure from you working her up.

“Now who’s the tease?” she asks, and you chuckle, breathy and hot against her center.

But you say nothing, deciding she’s waited long enough, and after being so generous to get you off in the shower, you can only do the same in return. The hand gripping her thigh begins caressing in long, soft motions just as your tongue slips between her folds, getting a taste of her juices gathering at her entrance before you lick a broad strip up to her clit. She shivers at the sensation, releasing little noises, soft moans and whimpers, here and there. It drives you further, wanting to watch her tremble in pleasure and come on your tongue.

You repeat the motion to make sure she’s on the edge and ready for release, dragging the flat of your tongue from her juices dripping out up to her clit, loving the way she gasps as her body tenses. You remind her to relax with your palm caressing her thigh, and she does so the moment you fall into a rhythm of circling her swollen bud in long, soft strokes.

You take your time tasting her, a relaxed tongue toying with her clit while she cries out for you. All before you press your lips to her flesh to suck gently, watching her back arch from the bed as her thighs tremble around you. When you release, you press the flat of your tongue to her folds, allow her to rock her hips against your mouth for a moment, giving her the pleasure her body is so desperate for.

You’re aware she needs a bit more pleasure to reach her peak, deciding to slip a hand between her thighs and press two fingers to her entrance. Your other arm snakes around her leg, pressing a firm palm against her lower stomach to keep her in place as you push your fingers inside of her dripping heat.

Once again she cries out your name, gasping at the pressure before her noises turn into moans spilling from her lips. “That feels so good,” she whines as she tells you, “please, I want to come.”

As she begs, a smirk grows over your wet lips as you lean between her legs once again, burying your fingers deeper, licking her clit with a broad stroke of your tongue as she attempts to buck her hips. You hold her in place with your palm against her stomach, repeating the motion as your fingers curl toward her belly button.

“Are you gonna come, baby?” you ask, teasing her just as she did to you before, fingering her and applying pressure to her g-spot to have her eyelids fluttering closed and her head rolling back. “Come on my tongue,” you instruct, leaning in to press your lips to her slit, sucking her clit as she whimpers and clutches the sheets beneath her.

As you continue to taste her, she continues to drip slick arousal over your fingers. She grows closer with every circle of your tongue around her clit, every whimper that falls from her lips, and every time you pump and curl your fingers inside of her. She can’t help but to call out for you, warning you she’s getting close, telling you how incredible it feels when you’re between her thighs. You feel her body tense beneath you, only a second before her moans grow quite, realizing she’s coming undone as her thighs quiver and a final gasp fills the room. Her hips struggle to move even though you have a hold on her, but you never pull your mouth away from her clit, continuing to pleasure her throughout her high until you realize her body begins to settle as she comes down.

When you finally pull away, you wipe your mouth with a grin, noticing her shaking in the aftermath of bliss, and all you want to do is pull her close. You crawl up her body, placing soft kisses here and there, beneath her belly button, between her breasts, on her neck, until you reach her lips. She embraces you fully, tasting herself on your tongue and moaning in satisfaction. She pulls away with a grin, and never hesitates to snuggle closer to you. Your legs become tangled in each other once again, an arm draped around your stomach, a hand in her hair. You think you hear her heartbeat mixing with the rain outside as well as the fire dying down to a low crackle in the living room, or maybe it’s your own heart running wild this time.

You don’t mind either way. You love it when she’s with you. You love it when it rains.

[baiabay]

No Role Modelz (ATSV Black Cat Variant! Reader Insert)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Current Chapter

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

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^^links 2 chapters!! this story is also on ao3, wattpad, and quotev under the same name :)

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Chapter 3: Out Of Touch (with reality hoes)

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“Miles!”

Hovering over Miles, surrounded by a sea of colour and light, was Gwen Stacy. That Gwen Stacy. How many months has it been since he’d last seen her? That didn’t matter; she was here now, in his room…opening his collective figures. Miles wanted nothing more but to leave. To jump out his window and swing freely with Gwen. Like old times. There was only one problem though…

“I’m… grounded.”

Miles winced. A pregnant pause, until he couldn’t stop the wince on his face from transforming into a grin after he’d heard the teens' response.

“Bummer - is Spiderman grounded?”

———————————————-

“So you’re telling me there’s an elite society with all the best spider-people in it?”

Miles swung behind Gwen, an expression of bewilderment behind his mask as his companion rambled about the society.

“-And Hobie,”

“Who’s Hobie?”

“- he lets me crash in his dimension sometimes,”

“L-like you stay the night?”

At the mention of the name a pang of jealousy flashed through Miles. He never knew she was-all of them were-seeing eachother all this time. While he spent it…alone.

“-Oh and there’s this Lady- Jessica Drew, she rides motorcycles, oh my gosh, I’m leaning so much from her-“

“Oh yeah? I-I’ve learned a lot of new stuff too, I leveled up my whole thing, see?”

Half showing off(and half to rid himself of the growing feeling of envy in his chest), Miles mimicked the graceful flipping style of Gwen Stacy, weaving through narrow gaps in traffic and hanging himself by the ankle. Now behind him, he heard a slight giggle.

“Look at you!”

There it was. That feeling he was so jealous of earlier. From Gwen, from the Spider-society, from The Black Cat. It pooled in his stomach and filled his chest, bursting out his seams in the form of an uncontrollable toothy grin and a giggle back. He felt it. Freedom.

“Look at me!”

—————————————

You were sat atop the roof of your apartment complex, chin resting on your knees. Purring was heard faintly as one of your cats rubbed its side against you, pulling you out of your deep state of pensiveness you had dug yourself into moments prior. You smiled softly as you scratched at the cat. Your smile faded however, as you replayed for the umpteenth time that evening, your conversation with Spider-man.

“Sometimes I just wish things were different, yknow?”

“Different how?”

“Different like, for me.”

“There’s a first time for everything, right?”

You scoffed before sighing deeply. He just didn’t get it, did he? Guess you can’t blame him too much though, if he knew why you did what you did it would practically be the same as ripping off your mask and turning yourself in. Huffing once more, you pushed yourself to stand on the roof. The sun was setting now, the sky blue with tints of pink, orange, and yellow. It was at this moment you realized how long it had been since you took the time to really look at the sunset. It was calm, it was serene, it was-

buzz

A text. Your landlord. Again. Rent was coming up, and you were short last week-pushing all missed fees to this week. Great.

It was at this moment you realized exactly why it had been so long since you took the time to really look at the sunset. Turning away from the painted sky, you collected your feline companions and trudged your way down to your room.

Rummaging through your closet you made it to a makeshift safe designed for the keeping of any valuable items you had seized. Cracking it open with eyes closed and fingers crossed-

It was empty. Great.

You let out a lengthy groan, shifting your weight back to lay on your floor. You hadn’t gone out heist-ing since the incident with Spot. Rolling over on your side, you were met with two bright, wide, yellow eyes, and a large tuft of black fur in your face. As if on cue, the large tuft of fur nuzzled your face before dropping a black leather mask before you. Your black leather mask.

A silent beat passed as you stared at the mask on the ground. Sighing once more, you picked up the mask, your words to Spider-man ringing behind your ears.

“The Cat and The Spider. We can’t truly change who or where we are. No matter…how much we want to.”

Now fully suited, you headed your way towards your window, looking back at your fluffy black friend.

“Thanks, kitty”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting now, the sky blue with tints of pink, orange, and yellow. It was at this moment Gwen realized how long it had been since she took the time to really look at the sunset. Miles smiles, a lighthearted feeling in his chest. Sitting on the underside of this secluded ledge, Miles relished in the serene feeling that enveloped the two of them. In this moment, looking out into the city, the two young heroes felt like they were the only ones in the entire universe. They were alone, together. It was nice.

“ In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man.”

At the sound of Gwen’s voice, Miles turned his head. As she finished her sentence, his lips curved into a soft smile, and he found himself subconsciously leaning into her. Looking up at her, he blinked as he noticed how Gwen returned the smile, but held a tensed, tight-lipped expression behind it. Before he could comment, she parted her lips to speak.

“… And in every other universe, it doesn’t… end well.”

Miles flinched as he processed Gwen's words, opting to shift his body away from her. All of a sudden, his mind was swarmed with memories from his earlier interaction with his feline counterpart. Looking once again into Gwen‘s eyes, Miles took note that The Cat held the same pained expression she displayed now. Before he can even begin to think of a response, Miles' mouth began to move.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

Miles’ chest was beating wildly now. He had expected Gwen to run away – to block him out like The Black Cat had done moments prior. But the warm pressure he felt pressing against his shoulder spoke differently. Like he did with the thief, Miles sighed deeply. This time, with a content smile across his face.

———————————————————-

It was night time now, and you were on the prowl – grappling around for the perfect opportunity to strike, when you stumbled across the most peculiar thing.

You assumed it was an abandoned building, but you’ve seen a handful of those, this one was different. It had been almost turned inside out, pieces of itself sticking out of… itself? And –

“Is that…glitching?”

Whatever what was going on, one thing for sure, this whole situation felt eerily familiar to you. Every fiber of your being screamed that this was all Spots doing.

Shit.

No way was he about to steal another gig from you.

On tipped-toes, you made your way into the wrecked building, when suddenly you were tugged by an invisible force. Literally.

“GH-“

Before you could continue screaming, the invisible force held you close and slapped its hand across your mouth.

“What are you doing?” The voice whisper-shouted.

Spider-Man. Invisibility, huh? Cool.

Squirming free from his grip, he tried your best to glare in the direction of the voice.

“Um, what are you doing?” You whisper-shouted back.

“Cat!”

“I couldn’t help myself! I was curious…”

“Yeah, I hear that’s bad for cats-”

“No nononononononononoNO!”

The two of you flinch to the sound of this new, distressed voice. While Miles remained invisible, you quickly ducked behind a support beam, squinting at the source of the sound.

In front of you holding an extremely panicked expression behind their mask, was another… another Spider-person?

Just when your curiosity couldn’t have been piqued any further, this new Spider-person, from what looked like to be a watch(a super bad-ass watch, you might add), began to play a projection of-you called it, The Spot.

Rambling erratically about some sciencey-shit you’d maybe understand if you paid more attention in physics, you watched as the hologram of the spotted man stumbled over himself, as well as practically every possible item in the room. You inched closer in an attempt to gauge more about this whole situation, albeit, you still didn’t catch that much, only managing to cling onto words like ‘holes’ or ‘collider’.

“Shoot…”

The hologram played out, and the new Spider’s panic grew.

“shootshootshootshoot-“

The Spots’ hologram began to mumble angrily- was that your name you heard in there? And Spiders? A lot of Spiders’ name, actually. You had no idea he’d had a run-in with him too. Soon enough, the panic began to rub off on your Spider-Man, as you heard him start to mirror the words of the stranger.

“Shoot.”

“UGH, no! Gwen Gwengwengwengwe-“

“Gwen! Hi~”

A…pregnant… Spider-woman appeared before the three of you. You truly seen it all now.

“Spider?”

Calling out to him, you tried your best to remember where his invisible form last was. No response. You whipped your head around wildly until you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Do you…know what’s going on?”

Miles kept his eyes trained on Gwen, as she explained to the Spider-woman about her detour with him.

“I have an idea.”

“Do you know who they are? Are they… other Spider-Men?”

“… never see him again, all right?”

The new spider person(whom you collected her name to be Gwen), spoke. Her shoulders dropped, and her head hung low as the holographic form of the pregnant hero disappeared. You watched in silence as she reached a hand before her mask and tugged it off. The hand on your shoulder squeezed before slipping away. Turning in your direction, a maskless Gwen stared past you - into the night. Upon seeing her face, you flinched. Ready to run off had she noticed your presence. But she didn’t. With glazed eyes, she stared right past you. You blinked, and for a moment, your jaw fell. She was young, looked around your age with neck-length blonde hair, half shaved. Her brows furrowed in a way that felt familiar to you, in a way that said, ‘I wish things were different’. She remained staring for a few moments, you and Miles stared back. It was quickly broken by a flash of bright light, spiralling in patterns and colours you’ve never seen before, And pulling her mask on, Gwen stepped in.

You didn’t anticipate your Spider-Man to be standing upside down when he came out of his invisible state, yet there he was. Facing away from you, towards the orange and red amalgamation of light Gwen stepped into moments prior.

“Sp-“

“I’m going in.”

“Wai-no. What do you mean you’re going in-”

“I mean, Cat, I'm going in there.”

His voice was raised now, shoulders tensed. He jumped down from the ceiling, stepping towards the portal. Realizing he was unmasked, you took in the dark curls that framed his face. You felt a strong urge to pull your own face covering off.

You did.

“Then… I’m coming with you.”

“You can’t-”

Spider turned around to face you. Brows furrowed and mouth open to send a negative retort toward your way, until his breath hitched as he became aware of the bareness of both of your faces. You stood, arms crossed, staring into the eyes of the boy. He had gentle features, warm brown eyes. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on exactly where you’ve seen him. School, maybe? He must’ve recognized you, seeing as he stared back with a bewildered look on his face. He closed his mouth, form un-tensing. You took the silence to speak once more.

“I said, I’m coming with you.”

You stepped towards the portal, reaching to pull your mask back on.

“I said I wanted things to be different, right? Well, I – I feel like this is a chance to change things up…what is it you said again? That ‘there’s a first time for everything’? Well, what if you were right, Spider, th-”

“Miles.”

You looked at, with a soft smile on the young heroes face

“Miles, my name.”

“… Miles.”

You tested out his name before speaking yours, one he must’ve recognized, as he responded with a flinch.

“You said your last names’ Hardy? Like Walter Hardy? The noto-

“ Notorious Black Cat burglar? Yeah no shit, Sherlock.“

Your mouth stretched into a wide smile as the serious air between the two of you dissipated. The portal crackled, before beginning to shrink in size. Miles spoke,

“So you’re… you sure you want to do this?“

There was a part of you that screamed at you to stay. That worried about everything you were leaving-by leaving. Guilt seeped into the back of your mind and you turned away from Miles to face the dark city skyline.

You reflected on your conversation earlier. Did you really want to be The Cat forever? Become like your father and die doing this job?

Did you really?

“I’m sure.”

You and Miles both now reached to tug your masks back on. The two of you sent one last look back out onto the city before nodding at eachother, and diving in.

-----------------

[mayullla]

Title: Pearls and Potions

[ - Cottage (Fem!reader) + Roses (Yandere) + Ayato (Genshin Impact) + Chocolate brownies (Mermaid/siren au) - ] - Anon's Ask

Additional Warnings/tags: Fantasy / fairytale au, force body transformation, a bit of pain, manipulation, drowning (falling from the boat)

[ - Fairytale Picnic Event - closed - ]

You weren't exactly a princess of the kingdom in fact far from it, instead, you served as a maid in the palace. One of the maids who tends to the princess, helping her with her dresses, accessories, and makeup. You attend to her every need, getting her food and following her orders. Yet a lot of the time you would also entertain her, as she goes about talking about her dream prince charming that would soon come for her and she would live her happily ever after.

You didn't mind her fantasies, always listening to them yet you knew they were too good to be true. Just like the fairytale books that you read about mermaids and fairies they were all false and nothing but an imaginative mind.

So you weren't sure how to react when the ragging tides pushed the wooden ship to the side tearing the whole thing down leaving nowhere for the people to go but the water. You thought you would die, you were sure of it when the water went to your lungs and it was hard to breathe, too painful as you tried to reach the water's surface.

As your eyesight began to dim you wondered if the princess was safe if she was okay that someone saved her. Funny it was now that you remembered a little story you read when you were small about how a mermaid saved her prince from drowning.

You hoped that the princess was saved by a mermaid if nothing else, even if the story was so sad in the end even as the mermaid turned to bubbles so long as the prince, the princess you watched over was happy you can't help but be a little selfish.

You can't believe your eyes when you opened them, seeing nothing but stone... you were inside a cave.

You were alive was all you thought when you felt the pain in your body as you cough clearing out more of the water inside you.

“You are finally awake.” It was a soft voice, a glad one that surprised you when you looked to see a man in the water staring at you smiling. He was neck-deep in the water, yet you could not help yourself but become flustered by his beauty when you saw him. 

You continued to be surprised when you saw the tail right behind him, a light blue scaled tail that shimmered in the light that reflected into the waters from outside and if not even more flustered when he approached you, pulling himself out of the water on the edge of the rocks closing his face on yours.

You looked anywhere but him.

He was a smug man you realized later, as he asked if you were okay while placing a hand on yours. His movements were sophisticated and elegant, as he held your hand kissing your palm. You could feel your ear heat when you asked him if he was the one who save you and he hummed in your hand nodding at what you said.

You thank him many times, grateful that he had saved your life. The man you found out his name to be Ayato, only chuckled placing himself on top of your still-wet skirt as if using it as a pillow resting his hands on top of it and then his head. It gave you a view of his tail, that you could only gulp in nervousness. So many questions went through your mind. Were mermaids actually real, did the fairytales that you read in the past hold any truth to them? How does it all work?

You were soon brought back to reality when you noticed the sun going down, the sea that crashed your boat that you and the princess were on- wait the princess.

Everything was sudden when you suddenly moved, trying to stand up yet only to be dragged down to sit as the merman held your ankle and hand. There was a hint of possessiveness that you saw which was quickly replaced with curiosity and worry, “Where are you going?” He asked, you could hear it in his voice. He didn't want you to leave.

You told him about your home, how everyone was probably looking for you and other survivors, and how you were worried about the princess. The merman was understanding when he asked you if you really cared about this princess you told him “Of course!” Ayato let you go but not until you promised him that you will come back here soon.

You told him that you would return... if he was okay with it. You were flustered when you told him that you were interested in him, not in a weird way or anything it was just that this was the first time you have ever seen a mermaid in your whole life. 

You mentally thought that you were really a flustered mess when you heard him laugh and chuckle at your words, pushing himself a little more to the dry ground towards you he lightly nuzzled himself on your neck, kissing your cheek before returning to the water with a smile on his face.

The concern the princess had towards you, made you finally realize that you were alive but it also made you wonder if you dreamed of seeing such a beautiful mythical creature.

Nevertheless, you came back to the cave that you woke up in, it took you a while to find time to go there yet today was kind of your off day as the princess has given you time for yourself when she saw you zoning out a little more often when you looked at the beach outside the castle window.

You didn't see other eyes watching, and you never heard when the sounds of small splashes till one hour later the creature that saved you appeared before you again, surprising you when by touching your feet that were cooling under the water.

“You are back, I was waiting for you.” his voice was like a melody in your ears, soft and delighted. You laughed, as you looked at him unable to say anything… everything was not a dream. You and that merman talked till the sun goes down, your curiosity towards his kind and why he kind never showed their face to humans.

He asked questions towards you, yet unlike you who asked about his kind, he asked questions that are more related to you. He didn't care for humans and their homes, but he would listen intently to everything you have to say. When you said goodbye, the two smiles on both your face you didn't see his hand hidden in the water crush a stone into debits as he let you go. You didn't see how cold his eyes were as if he never smiled in the first place when you left, as he commands the others who hid words that you did not hear.

The possessive that was barely contained, that wanted to drag you into the water and suffocate you just so that you would be forever in his arms.

It wasn't every time that you visit, you were too busy after all as a maid of royalty. But whenever you got the off time you would take a walk down to the beach to the cave. It almost felt like a dream really when you finally got the courage to ask if it was okay to touch his fins, which Ayato let you by placing his long tail on your lap. Your hesitant touch almost tickled him but he let you do as you please so long as he could play with your hair.

He let out a pleasing hum as you touch his fins, his tail then his arms then the grills on his neck. Soft and careful as if you were scared that you might hurt him, worried over him when he suddenly shivered and hugged you hiding his flushed face from you on the nape of your neck. "If you keep on doing that I might not be able to control myself anymore."

"Pardon" "Nothing dear."

It has been a while since you started talking to him and he was like a good friend to you so when you found out that you are going to another nation to help your princess meet her new finance you could not help but tell your friend where you were going.

He smiled at the news, but you could see the loneliness in his eyes as he hugged you telling you that he would be waiting. You told him that you would come back and that you would not leave him.

“Promise, you won't leave me?” Ayato asked, his smile a little brighter than a few moments ago when you nodded, you were about to say yes yet you hesitated when something sparked into his eye quickly hidden before you try to understand it.

A crazed obsession. Was it real or was it fake, something you thought you saw? You didn't understand. Yet when he asked again you had to answer “Y-yes…” You left forgetting everything… and maybe that was your first mistake.

When you returned only tell him that you found something. It wasn't love more so interest in someone while the same could be said by the other. A noble in the other kingdom noticed you as you watched over the princess who was talking to the prince of that kingdom.

You told Ayato about all the stories, you told him how you too were interested in the man who greeted you with a kiss on the back of the hand. You didn't see the anger in his eyes when his smile started to become more and more strained and fake. When he just snapped.

“So you broke your promise? My, I thought you were smarter than that.” Ehh, you looked at him confused when he pushed you to the dirt floor placing himself on top of you so that you would not be able to get up, "What are you doing?!?!" You screamed at him in surprise unable to get up or roll always with his weight on top of you, his tail curling around your legs tightly.

"How unfortunate that my patience has run down. You are quite cruel my dear when you say that you have fallen in love with someone else... clearly, you must be playing hard to get." "What?! What are you talking about!!" 

"Becoming shy aren't we? Don't worry I will give you all my attention soon enough."

Ayato's smile scared you as he pulled out a vial from nowhere, the content inside it was a purplish goo that terrified you even more.

"Now your mouth. If you don't I will force it down one way or another." "There. Drink up, my dear."

Hot. It was hot. Your skin feels like it is burning not only from the outside but also from the inside. You tried to spit out that vile thing that was forced into your mouth, not before Ayato covered your mouth preventing you from doing so. It hurts.. it hurts so much as if your bones were twistings and your muscles almost ripping apart. Your skin feels like it is being torn to shreds all the while Ayato watches as his eyes dance in happiness.

Ayato thought of letting you play your life as a human a little more after he got that potion. He didnt want to be so rough with his dear yet you played with his heart like this? Telling him that you have fallen in love with another man?

Just a little more, just deal with the pain a little more and he will take you to his kingdom and show you another world far better than the surface all within his arms.

[rogue-durin-16]

SUNGLASSES AND LIPSTICK STAINS (part II/III)

Summary: After his punch-up with Billy, Steve is in need of medical attention. Going to the hospital isn't an option, so the kids take him to the closest thing they know to a doctor. Funny how the girl who mended his heart back at Tina's party would be the one mending his body.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff (hurt/comfort)

Tags:

Sunglasses And Lipstick Stains: @shycupcakealissa

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: blood, injuries, head trauma, brief mention of smoking, language

A/N: not so fun fact! I didn't have to do much research on head injuries because I've had my fair share of experiences. It's literally a miracle that I'm still completely okay lmao. Anyways enjoy<3

Part I

Part III

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Something was not right. I noticed straight up as I climbed off Samantha's car when she dropped me off —I just couldn't pinpoint what exactly was not right.

There were clear signs, though. The shed's door left ajar; a freshly dug patch of land that lacked grass; the storm cellar's gates wide open.

"Dustin?" My tone was wary when I called for my little brother from our front door.

No response.

"Dustin!" I tried again, setting one foot after another into our home.

Nothing. I felt my nerves beginning to rise. He should be home by now.

I stalked to our landline and picked the phone handle, pressing the number I had so many times called to when Dustin forgot his curfew.

That was probably it, but since Will's disappearance, everyone was on edge. The eerie screeches Samantha and I had heard on our way to my house hadn't helped either.

It didn't take long for a gentle motherly voice to greet me from the other side of the line. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Wheeler! Y/n here. I know it's late but uh..." My leg bounced as I tried to sound as casual as possible. "I was just wondering if Dustin was still there by any chance?"

"Uhm... Dustin wasn't here today, Y/n."

"He... wasn't?" My brows furrowed, the cable of the phone being anxiously twisted on my index finger.

"I... think he might be staying the night at the Byers'?" I hummed at the information, a light relief settling inside me —though it was swiftly torn out by her next sentence. "I don't know what's wrong with these kids today. Billy dropped by a while ago looking for his sister."

"Billy... Hargrove?" My heart nearly stopped at Karen's confirmation, followed by a little ramble about how charming the boy was.

Charming. Well, now, I personally wouldn't have used that word to describe Billy Hargrove.

Thanking Karen for her information, I hung up and trotted to the door. I would walk to the Byers' if I had to.

Just as I got a hold of my set of house keys, the sound of a rear was heard in our quiet street. A peep through my window was enough to make me freeze, because that was Billy Hargrove's car.

Billy Hargrove's car had just mowed down our mailbox.

In the span of five seconds in which I lost sight of our yard in order to open the front door, the scene turned even more bizarre. From the crashed Chevrolet Camaro's driver seat, a petite red haired girl climbed off. To further shock, Dustin, Lucas and Mike scrambled out of the vehicle right after, practically dragging out a semiconscious Steve Harrington.

What the fuck was going on.

One Hour Earlier

DUSTIN'S P. O. V.

I had barely registered Steve's wince after the headlights' overcurrent had blinded us, so seeing the eldest of us stumble to the car for some kind of support, only for his legs to give in once he got to the vehicle, nearly put me under cardiac arrest.

"Shit— Steve?" I called, taking a tentative step towards him while I signaled the others to stay put. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, Dustin, I'm great." The sarcastic response left his lungs in a strained grunt. Before any of us could throw a carless comeback at our assigned babysitter, his torso contorted to the side, allowing him to not throw up on his lap.

There was a colorful variety of panicked gasps, spit as a rapid fire by the four of us who remained standing while I rushed to kneel besides Steve.

"Oh my god..." I exclaimed, tugging Steve's arm to drag him further from his vomit whilst trying not to stare at it. I would so puke myself if I spared the puddle a single glance.

"He has to go to the hospital." Max took a step forward with a concerned frown darkening her gaze.

"No!" Mike made us all jump with his negative. "We just went into the tunnels. Bet if they run tests on him, they'll know something's off."

I heard a very much lost 'Wait what?' coming from Steve as I raised to my feet, hands thrown on the back of my head. "Holy shit."

"Okay but we gotta take him somewhere." Max insisted with urgency. "I mean, look at him."

"Guys I think... I think might pass out."

"Shit..." I cursed under my breath, crouching down momentarily to make sure Steve's back stayed laid on the side of the Camaro. "Shit shit shit. Okay, let me think."

No hospitals. Okay, but he needed medical attention. We needed a doctor. Or at least something close to it. Maybe a medic or...

"She's gonna kill me."

"Who's gon-" Lucas mouthed a quiet 'oh'.

"She's gonna have to suck it up." Mike stated, picking up on who we were talking about and how she felt about people like Steve. Or Nancy, matter-of-factly.

"Who's gonna have to suck it up?" Max exasperated begging for an explanation fell on deaf ears.

"Can you drive us to my house?" I inquired.

She sighed, a determined yet exhausted look lighting up her irises. "Put him in the car."

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

READER'S P. O. V.

"Y/n!" I could barely process Dustin abandoning his friends to run to me, hands raised in surrender and an apologetic smile dancing on his face. "Y/n, hey. Have I told you how much I love you today?"

"What the fuck's going on?" I managed to question, my pitch as high as it could get due to the surreal situation before me.

"You remember what you learned in that first aid course, right?" He decided to ignore my inquiry as he moved my flabbergasted frame aside so Lucas and Mike could carry Steve inside.

"What?" My horrified eyes clocked the older teen's bloodied, swollen face. "The hell happened to him?!"

"My brother's an asshole, that's what happened to him." The ginger girl I finally recognized as Billy's little sister rumbled behind Dustin with folded arms. If I was not mistaken, it must have been the same girl my brother had a crush on— Max, I believed. "I... I think he might have a concussion."

"I'm sorry, how old are you?" She shuffled, sneaking my brother a begging side glance.

"It's okay, she's cool." Dustin whispered.

"Thirteen."

"THIRTEEN?!" I yelled, making them both flinch. "YOU DROVE THEM ALL THE WAY FROM—"

"Y/n! I'm gonna need you to calm down." Dustin's words were slow and clear. "We can't fill you in right now, but I promise—"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"I PROMISE" he reiterated over my words, a bit louder this time. "That I'll tell you everything, but now I need you to fix up Steve." I opened my mouth again, but no words came out of it before Dustin cut me off once more. "I know what you're thinking. 'Dustin, you know I wouldn't touch Steve Harrington with ten-foot pole', but he's a good dude." the oblivious confidence in his words was actually funny, but I couldn't find it in me to laugh.

"He saved our lives." The girl added.

"Is that why he's—"

"Kinda."

"Yeah!" Dustin shouted, though by the readhead's face, it must have been a half truth. "Now please, can you help him? Please."

A silence reigned among the three of us for a couple of seconds, in which I tried to assess the situation with the little information I had.

In all fairness there wasn't much of a choice to make. Casting my head down for a second, I re-entered the house, now with the pair of kids trailing after me.

"Alright, give him some space." I commanded Mike and Lucas, who were struggling to keep Steve sat still on our largest couch.

My heart clenched the moment I kneeled before my classmate, as I finally had the chance to fully take in his swollen face, peppered in purplish black bruises. "Holy fuck," I muttered, lifting my hand to move a rogue strand of hair out of the way. "He sure did a number on you, didn't he?"

"Henderson." There was some kind of surprise gleaming in his bloodshot orbs at the sight of me. "I'm alright. Just need a bit of sleep."

"You sure? 'cause a little birdie told me you might have a concussion." I whispered, taking my hands to the back of my pocket in order to fish out the half empty pack of smokes inside if which I kept my lighter.

"You smoke?!" Dustin screeched behind me, earning a chastising nudge from Lucas. "What."

"Yes, Dustin. I smoke." I confirmed in a hiss, rotating in the spot to throw daggers at my brother. "And if you tell mom, I'll slit your throat."

Dustin nodded rapidly at my deadpanning warning.

Once I was sure he had gotten the memo, I spun back to look at Steve. "Let me know if I hurt you." With a nod from him, I took a tender hold of his face, the pad of my thumb pressing on the skin beneath his left lower lid in order to open his eyes.

"Woahwoahwoah- what are you doing?" Steve slurred, trying and failing to slip away from my grasp by wrapping his digits around my wrist when he saw the lighter's flame moving close.

"I'm just— Stay still!" He winced at my loud tone, but complied nonetheless. "I'm just checking something. Keep your eyes on me, okay?"

There were a few seconds of expectant silence while I tested Steve's pupils' reaction time to the bright light of the tiny flame before him. It took the boy no time to break it with a soft whisper that surely made my cheeks flush.

"You have like, the prettiest lips." I should have seen something like that was coming by the look on his face.

"And you have a concussion." I declared in response, hoping in vain none of the kids had heard his statement, nor his enchanted tone. "Guys, he needs a hospital."

"No hospitals." Mike's statement held a finality that left me even more confused.

"What do you mean 'no hospitals'?"

"It's okay, Y/n." Steve agreed, which made it all more suspicious. "Just patch me up and I'll go home."

"How? Walking?" I countered, tilting my head to try and meet his avoidant gaze. I soon gave up on him, turning to the kids behind me instead. "Was he unconscious?"

"Yeah but for like, a couple of minutes?" Max asked with a tinge of anxiety in the back of her throat.

"How long's a couple of minutes."

"I don't know, maybe five?" I widened my eyes at Dustin's levity trying my best not to fume.

"Five?!"

"Then he was on and off." Lucas finished, his demeanor closer to Max's than it was to Dustin's.

I gathered all the patience I could find in me to not yell at the kids, and instead chose to return to Steve. "Listen, you need to see a doctor."

"Y/n, it's alright."

"No, it's not alright. What's wrong with you all?" I huffed, attempting to get up, only to be secured in place by Steve's lazy grasp. "I'm gonna call an ambulance."

"NO!"

"Y/N, PLEASE!"

"NO HOSPITALS!"

"Jesus Christ my head..." Steve groaned, bending over with the balls of his hands pressing against his eyes.

"Stop that!" I scolded him, taking his hands in mine. "Everybody SHUT UP!"

I immediately muttered an apology under my breath to Steve for the noise, whose forehead had come to rest on my shoulder.

"I'm gonna clean you up, and we'll... we'll move on from there." The boy nodded, messy hair bouncing at the movement and tickling my cheeks. "C'mon, Harrington, upsy-daisy. Wheeler! a little help here, please."

As soon as I began to pull him up with me, both Lucas and Mike appeared on either sides of my peripheral vision, scooping Steve's arms over their shoulders.

"Take him to the bath— actually no, take him to my room." I commanded them, walking over to the kitchen sink in order to wash my hands. "Dustin, go check if mom's still asleep."

At the lack of movement, I spared the two remaining kids in the room a look of urgency, only to be met by Dustin's baffled face.

"What."

"What was that?" He inquired in an accusative tone.

"I genuinely don't know what you're talking about." I lied, choosing to play stupid, keeping myself busy with filling a bowl with warm water and, right after, digging in our freezer for ice to avoid meeting Dustin's inquisitive eyes.

"You know what I'm talking about." I did my best to look clueless, which only seemed to exasperate my brother more. "The sexual electricity!"

"The what?" Max questioned, pulling a face at Dustin while my eyes widened because who the fuck taught him that.

Before I could get a word in, the two taller boys that had carried Steve to my room came back.

"Just check if mom's asleep, okay?" I insisted, taking backwards steps into the hall to reach the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

STEVE'S P. O. V.

The silence of Y/n's room was filled with the buzzing going on my head. As much as I would have loved to take a look around to hopefully catch a more solid grip of her already visible personality, keeping my eyes open with the light on was an effort I couldn't afford.

Due to being laid down on my back across the mattress with my forearm over my eyes, I didn't acknowledge Y/n's presence until she spoke.

"Hey."

"Hey." I reciprocated the greeting in the same soft, careful tone without changing my position. I was tempted to peek from under my temporary light shield when I heard her pacing around the room, moving from one corner to another, but I ended up waiting for her signal.

Soon enough, a two switches were flipped and a hand was patting my thigh. "C'mon, pretty boy."

I opened my eyes to see the room's ceiling light had been replaced with a warm toned night lamp by our side.

Without a word and some struggle, I propped myself forward and attempted to sit upright. The not so genuine smile I spared the girl before sitting on a chair earned me a sympathetic look.

She seemed to want to say a thousand different things, but stayed quiet instead, soaking a cotton cloth on an undersized bowl which rested atop her lap.

"Y/n?" She hummed, prompting me to go on. "You okay?"

Her irises shot up from her lap with incredulity. "Me?" She huffed, reaching to carefully remove the couple of colorful band-aids the kids had placed on my temple. "I'm peachy. You, on the other hand?"

"I'll be okay."

"I know." She raised the wet cloth to my forehead, and distractedly whispered, "Let me know if it hurts." before squeezing the piece of fabric above it, letting the lukewarm water run down the cut.

Instinctively, I raised the hem of my shirt to dry the droplets, but Y/n's expertise hands were much quicker. With a dry piece of toilet paper, she made sure the now dirty water wouldn't drip on my clothes, whilst beginning to ever so gently tap on the cut with the wet cloth.

I didn't realize how tense I was until the girl halted her actions, furrowing her brows at me. "Am I hurting you?"

"No- shit, not at all." I'm just not used to people taking care of me, my heart wanted to confess; my brain barely refrained it. And, had I kept my eyes on Y/n's for an instant longer, the sentence would have slipped anyway.

"Let's get you more comfortable, okay?" She suggested, moving the first aid items from her lap to the nightstand.

I simply nodded at her suggestion, chin still downcasted even when her grip secured my forearms to help me turn and slide backwards. An inpatient, mildly frustrated curse escaped her lips due to the struggle, stealing the ghost of a laugh from me when she had to abandon the chair and plant her knees on the mattress.

"I think I can do this myself." I teased, digging my heels on the blanket to push and help with my relocation.

"I think it's too late for that." She snapped back, releasing one of my forearms to cup the back of my head before it could hit the headboard. "Careful now." She muttered, only letting her fingers slide out of my hair when the back of her palm was pressed against the wooden piece of furniture.

I had to repress a mewl at the loss of touch, though I couldn't hide my pout when the warmth of her skin abandoned mine —nor could I avoid how I instinctively reached to hold her thigh in place when she attempted to retreat back to the chair.

Don't leave.

Instead of moving away, she lowered her own hand on mine, rubbing soothing circles on top of it with her thumb.

I'm not going anywhere.

After readjusting the lamp besides us and taking back the bowl and cloth, she repeated in silence the process carried out on the cut splitting my temple, this time on the one in my swollen lip.

"Did he only go for the head or...?" She questioned once she was done cleaning the open cuts.

Truth was, I didn't really know. After the third punch, everything was blank, but Y/n was worried enough as she was; adding that to the mix wouldn't do any good. "Pretty much."

"He's a fucking tool." She seethed, grabbing the antiseptic lotion to apply it on my temple. "Should've let Sam run him over at Tina's party."

"That would've made my night." I realized too late that the amused smile twisting my lips reopened the slit, and earned me some lighthearted chastising from Y/n.

"As if I didn't make your night." She taunted me, paying extra attention to my lips to make sure the bleeding was cut short before she brushed in the lotion with her fingertip.

The scene was too reminiscent of that one night, and I wondered if Y/n's intense stare on my mouth meant she was feeling the same urge to kiss me now that I had felt then.

"So uhm... Does Dustin know—"

And just like that, the spell was broken.

"Jesus, no." She snorted, straightening up her position. "And he's never gonna find out."

"Because you're embarrassed?" I furrowed my brows at the senior before me. She immediately mirrored my visage, and I felt the need to explain myself. "In the car, Dustin and Lucas were going on about how you despise me. And I mean, I got a complete different impression at Tina's party, but maybe you— I don't know, are ashamed of what happened?"

"What? No! No." She gulped, suddenly finding the clean gauze on her folded thigh very interesting. "I mean, I might have— I might have mentioned you weren't my uhhh favorite person to Dustin a couple of times, but— yeah, no." She shook her head to emphasize her words.

"Then why?" I hated the neediness in my tone; the way my voice broke. I blamed the lack of sleep and the adrenaline rollercoaster the last couple of days had been.

"First off, my little brother has no business in my love life." She fairly pointed out with a quirked brow. "And second, he'll tell Mike, and I bet Mike will tell Nancy."

"We broke up." I blurted out. With what intention? I didn't really know, and by the look on her face, neither did Y/n.

"You know it'll still piss her off."

"It was just a kiss."

She stared blankly at me for a second.

'No, it wasn't' was the sentence read on her expression —and she was right, it hadn't just a kiss. It was the best kiss I've ever had.

"And that's why no one needs to know." She said instead, with deluded resignation in her words. "Listen, Steve." Sigh. "We got more important... Matters to attend. Don't you think?"

"Right."

The following few minutes elapsed without a word. We drowned in the quietness of the room while Y/n finished patching me up. Hadn't I know better, I would have said she was lingering.

"You could use those sunglasses right now." She observed, taking my chin between her thumb and index to move me around.

"I'm pretty sure they're at the Byers'."

She gave her head a couple of slow shakes. I had earlier wondered if she would interrogate me any further about the events leading up to this moment, given how little she had asked about it, and the time had come. "How did you end up babysitting these assholes?"

"Your little shit of a brother got me mixed up in some dangerous business 'cause no one else was around." I explained, trying my best to give away nothing apart from the necessary. "It kinda kept escalating from there."

She dropped her hands on her lap, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before finally asking, "what's going on, Steve?"

I didn't have time to say a single thing before the door was shoved open, making us both jolt on the spot.

"I'M NOT LOOKING!" Dustin yelled from the entrance with covered eyes.

"Dustin, what the fuck?!" The girl turned to hysterically gesture at the kid, whose hand fell limply to his side with a relieved exhale when he was met with nothing but his sister handing me an ice bag. "What is it."

"Can Lucas, Mike and Max stay the night?" It took a hot minute for Y/n to give her brother an affirmative response. She probably wasn't a fan of Billy showing up at her doorstep looking for Max like he had done at the Byers'.

"I'll get Max pj's in a moment." The eldest sister relented, shooing her little brother out shortly after.

"This kid."

"I know." She agreed with a breathy laugh, giving me an up-and-down. "Okay, you're all good. Or as good as it gets."

"I'm all ready to go home?"

Y/n's slack jawed expression made it really hard not to throw a fit of laughter. "And how the fuck will you go home, Steve?"

"I'll walk to the Byers'." I began to explain in a Self-assured manner. "My car's there and—"

"So is Hargrove." She cut me off. "And then what, then you drive?"

I threw my hands up in surrender between us. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Stay the night." The girl before me put that out there as if it was the most logical response; as if we had been friends for so long that not crashing in unprompted wasn't even up to question. It certainly wasn't the case. "Take the bed. I have to watch over and see if I gotta rush you to the hospital anyway." She nonchalantly explained, trying not so subtly to reassure me.

"I don't wanna be a bother."

"I'm inviting you." She responded, rocking herself slightly forward.

"Why are you so sweet to me?" It was more of an out loud thought than a real question, but I obtained a reply nevertheless.

"It's called minimal decency, Harrington." Flashing me a quick half smile, Y/n abandoned the bed and walked to the barely lit dresser at the foot of the bed. "I think I have... Ah, got it." She wiggled a piece of clothing I could barely discern and threw it at me. "You'll be more comfortable in that."

"Thanks." I mumbled after unfolding the item and realizing it was a big soft t-shirt.

"No worries." Y/n's body was back to being folded to fish out something else from the drawers, which i figured would be sleepwear for Max. "Alright, I'm gonna go arrange the gang of toddlers I have camped in the living room." I nodded at her, not missing the way her eyes slipped down to my torso once I had discarded both my jacket and shirt. "I'll... be right back."

In the last couple of days, I had had a lot of bizarre experiences, but one I certainly did not expect was sleeping in Y/n Henderson's bed. In her shirt. What was life even.

I had just barely accommodated myself under Y/n's covers when the door was once more shoved open, nearly giving my a heart attack. Unsurprisingly enough, the figure entering the room was not the girl who had just patched up my wounds, but Dustin.

"Everything okay?" I questioned, sitting up again, but the kid did not respond — not until he was sat on the chair by the bed anyway.

"Steve."

"Dustin."

I gave the kid a puzzled look when he took a deep breath, as if he was about to break some horrible news to me.

"Do you have a thing for my sister?"

"What?" It came out in a high-pitched, panicked tone, which definitely did not playing in my favor.

"I'm not gonna be mad," Dustin on the contrary spoke calmly, like a parent who was about to scold their child. "I just want to know."

"Jesus, Dustin. No. I do NOT have a thing for Y/n."

I felt myself getting smaller under the thirteen year old's scrutinizing glare, praying for him to be convinced because I didn't have the strength to have that conversation with anyone, let alone a child.

Eventually, the youngest Henderson caved in and spared me, choosing to get up and leave instead of questioning me any further. Maybe he himself didn't really want to know, or maybe he thought I had been put through enough already.

With one last squinted, unconvinced look from the room's entrance, Dustin closed the door, leaving me alone with just the warm colored night lamp to illuminate the space.

Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, I slid back into the silky sheets permeated with Y/n's perfume, which lulled me to sleep faster than I would have ever imagined.

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

READER'S P. O. V.

It took me longer than expected to set up a proper sleeping place for the middle schoolers, but not long enough for someone to fall asleep in the meantime.

Yet there he was, sound asleep, lightly snoring in my bed when I got back to the bedroom. The mere thought of having to wake him up again was breaking my heart a little, but it was imperative.

With a quiet whine, I dragged my feet to the side of the bed before plopping down on the chair. God, even after fixing him up, he was in an awful state.

'Billy hit him pretty hard.' Max had confided me in a whisper, face full of guilt. 'I thought he was gonna kill him.'

"Steve." I called for him in the most gentle voice I could. Nothing. "Steve." I tried again. Again, nothing.

He was completely knocked out.

I resolved to try from a closer distance, so I leaned on until my lips were inches away from him and... Nothing came out of me. How could someone look so beautiful all beaten up?

I didn't fully register my movements until my lips were lightly pressed on his cheekbone. The positive side is that that seemed to do the trick to wake him up. The negative was that he had definitely felt the kiss.

His initial confusion, however, was quick to melt into an entranced expression I couldn't fully decipher.

"Hi." He whispered under his breath, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Hi." I greeted back with what I was sure it looked like a smitten smile. "I brought you Tylenol." He muttered a relieved 'thank god', propping himself on his forearms to take first the medicine and then the glass of water I was offering him. "I'm gonna stay put for a little while." I informed him, taking back the now empty glass to place it on the cramped nightstand. "If I'm sleeping and you start to feel like you're dying, wake me up."

It was a half joke, but Steve only furrowed his brows. "Wait are you gonna sleep on that?" He pointed at my chair with disgust while going back to his previous position.

"Where the hell do you want me to sleep?" I asked rhetorically with the intention of pointing out the lack of free sleeping places in the house, but I got a response.

"Lay down with me?"

I would be lying if I said I wasn't tempted by the offer, but it just seemed wrong, so with a halfhearted smile, I shook my head no.

"Had to try." Steve clicked his tongue, poorly hiding his own disappointment. "Night, Henderson."

"Night, Harrington." I mumbled back, folding my arms over the mattress and resting my chin on them.

"Thank you." Had we not been in complete silence, the dozed off boy's words would have been inaudible. "For everything." He added, finding my fingers with his own and lazily intertwining them.

My heart skipped a bit at the touch and I silently cursed myself, because I was definitely crushing on Steve Harrington.

[mrs-gucci]

Home at Last

Commander Mills x female Reader

Mills wanting nothing more than to spend every moment for the rest of his life with you after narrowly escaping death 🔥🔥🔥

thanks for this request! enjoy some fluffy goodness with Mills!!

no warnings, just tooth rotting fluff :)

You’re so ready to have your lover back home. He’s been gone for far too long and you’ve missed him so much. You heard about the crash, you’d heard the distress calls he made from the uncharted planet, and the reality that he might not make it back hit you harder than anything else before.

But then you got the news that he and another survivor had made it onto the escape pod, and you breathed a huge sigh of relief. He’s okay, he’s gonna come back home.

A knock suddenly comes on the door and you rush to open it. Standing on the other side is your man, your beloved. Mills.

“I just got back but I—“

You jump into his arms and smash your lips against his as tears form in your eyes. He smiles, pulling you close and kissing you back desperately.

“I missed you — mm — so much,” you say between kisses, not wanting to fully break away from him. “God, it’s been so hard without you here. I was so worried about you—“

“I don’t wanna think about any of that right now, sweetheart,” he breathes, hands on your hips, on your ass. “I just need to be with you right now. I need you, baby.”

You’ve never heard such an expression of feelings from Mills before. He’s more of a physical love kind of guy than a vocal shower of feelings. His calloused hands hold your face gently and he looks into your eyes.

“I thought I’d never see you again, babygirl,” he whispers, emotion written all over his features. “There were so many times that I thought I wasn’t coming home, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d never get to be with you again or tell you how much I adore you.”

You smile, leaning into his touch.

“Baby, I…I’ve never seen you like this before. But I’m definitely not complaining, I love when you say such sweet things about me. I adore you too, so, so much.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he kisses you again and again and again.

“I’m never gonna let you go again.”

And he never, ever did.

****

send me your Mills thoughts!

tagging: @safarigirlsp

(let me know if you wanna be tagged in my Mills works by either commenting on this post or sending me a message in my inbox!)

[fantastic-bby]

Pairing: Reader x Changbin

Word count: 1271

Genre: Mild angst | Hurt/Comfort-ish

You've spent too long away from your boyfriend that you're exhausted to want to wait any longer. He, on the other hand, wants nothing more than you to come home to.

Masterlist

[23:58]

The air is thick as you stand across from each other. The distance between you feels so close yet so far away as you swallow your tears, lips pursing together repeatedly. At the other side of the kitchen stands Changbin, your boyfriend who you’ve practically been dating long distance from how often he spends working. 

He barely comes home, and with the constant touring, you’ve only seen him three times in the past four months. 

You know that it’s something that you’ve signed up for: dating a professional idol, but you hadn’t realised how taxing it would be on the waiting end as you spend countless nights waiting for the smallest text from Changbin that reminds you why you’re still holding on as much as you are. 

But sometimes, an “I love you” text isn’t enough. And other times, his promise of being home gets cut short whenever work piles up and he ends up crashing in the studio or at the dorms. 

Which leads you to your current situation. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re upset,” Changbin mutters, suitcase in hand and jaw clenched. His beanie has been tossed onto the marble counter out of frustration, hair messy and sticking out in all directions. 

“Changbin, I’m tired—and as much as I know that you’re busy, but I haven’t seen you in months. You live here, but I only ever see you once every month. I try to visit you at the studio to keep you eating, but you kick me out and don’t even end up eating anything that I leave behind. I’ve tried… but I don’t think I can anymore. I’ve spent so many nights here alone, but when I need you most, you’re in another country or you’re ten fucking minutes away not answering my calls.  I-I don’t want to make you choose between work or me, so I’m not even going to make you. Go on tour,” you say with your arms moving about in frustration. 

It makes you feel like the bad guy, but you know that you have your own rights. Changbin hasn’t exactly been the nicest to you in the past few months: constant snapping, kicking you out of studios in front of his friends when he had invited you—simple “I love you”s and “I’m sorry”s aren’t enough for you anymore.   

“Even on days when you’re here, you’re here one night and gone the next. I’ll wake up and you’re gone, and you won’t be back for another few days,” you ignore the way your voice cracks as you look at him.

He realises, in this moment, that he hasn’t been the best boyfriend to you, and he realises his own fault of constantly pushing you away the way he has. 

And work is work, but you’re still Changbin’s home, but he hasn’t exactly been coming back as often as he promised. 

His eyes look around the room frantically as his thoughts race in his head, trying to desperately think of a way to get you to stay. 

When in reality, it’s Changbin who will be making this decision. 

If he walks out of that door now, you won’t be waiting for him anymore. 

He honestly doesn’t even want to go, but Changbin knows that if he misses his flight tonight, he’ll only be causing more problems for the rest of the group and his managers. 

And as Changbin stares at you in your shared home, he realises that work isn’t enough to get him to let you go. 

“I can’t be with someone who can’t even keep their promise of coming home to sleep,” you state. Your foot is down and Changbin swallows thickly. His phone starts ringing on the counter for the third time tonight, the name of his manager flashing on his screen, presumably to try and get him to come downstairs. 

But Changbin declines the call and looks you dead in the eyes.

  “Come on tour with me,” he breathes out shakily. 

You lean back slightly in surprise, but it doesn’t seem to make him falter in his request.

“I-I know I haven’t been the best, but, (Y/n), please. I can’t lose you. I don’t fucking care if I’m late to the airport—I just care that I still have you to come home to.”

He takes a cautionary step forward, gauging your reaction, and from the way you don’t seem to move away or get mad, Changbin slowly approaches you until he’s standing right in front of you.

  “Please. Pack your bags and come with me. I don’t care if they see us, I don’t care if news gets out—fuck—I don’t care what happens. I can’t lose you,” he mutters as he takes your hands in his. “    

“Changbin…”

“I’m not leaving this fucking apartment unless you’re coming with me,” he states, jaw clenched and eyes hardened as he looks into yours. “If you don’t want to, I’m staying.”

You feel your heart cracking by the minute when you see the look in Changbin’s eyes. All of his other priorities have been thrown out the window and all that stands is you. He’s willing to throw everything away for you. 

“Nothing in this world could compare to you. I’m not willing to give you up this easily. You’re coming with me or I’m staying. I don’t care if my manager calls again—I’m staying, (Y/n).” 

You feel your bottom lip starting to tremble as the emotions finally break free, tears pouring down your face freely at the realisation that Changbin would, quite literally, do anything for you. 

“I’m tired of not being with you. I’m tired of looking at our phone bill and seeing how expensive it is because that just means that I’ve spent more time calling you from other countries instead of being in bed with you just like I was supposed to. I-I don’t want you to keep waiting—I want you to have me now,” Changbin continues. His thumbs run over the skin of your knuckles and his forehead pressed against yours. “Nothing in this world shines as bright as you, baby.”

You hear his phone starting to ring once again but Changbin only presses himself further into you. 

“I’m not getting into that car unless you’re coming with me. I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me. I’ll talk about it with my managers—I’ll get you on every plane I get on, I’ll get you in every hotel I’m in—I don’t fucking care. I’ll take you everywhere with me. Please, give me one more chance.” 

You only cry more when his arms wrap around you. How are you supposed to say no to him? It’s not like you could easily break up with him either. The only problem you had was the fact that you hadn’t seen him in so long that it was putting you in a lot of stress. 

But now, having Changbin wrap his arms around you as he begs you to follow him on tour… 

You can’t help but remember why you had waited for him all this time. You raise your hands to meekly return the hug, crying against his sweater as you do.. 

“Y-You can come with me. We’ll be together all the time—we’ll see everything together,” Changbin continues to whisper against you. His grip tightens, “please, (Y/n). Just one more chance.”

You don’t even think of your options as your own hands grip the back of his sweater tightly and you bury your face in his shoulder. 

You just know that you’re willing to keep trying if you know Changbin will be there.

“Okay.”

[quietwings-fics]

Dastardly Alien Cheesecake

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Ship: Gen (Ten & Donna) Additional Tags: Trust, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Poison, Hurt/Comfort, Vomiting, The Doctor & Donna Noble Friendship Wordcount: 3761 Summary:

Donna eats something she’s not supposed to.

Notes:

I'm going to state it outright here so that everyone knows what they're walking into: yes, this is a fic about the doctor sticking his fingers down donna's throat to make her throw up. you have now been warned of the contents and can proceed if you so wish.

The honeymoon period of traveling across time and space is followed by the most intense bout of homesickness that Donna has ever felt, which perhaps isn't saying much when she'd never been that far from home in her life before the Doctor.

To stand on an alien planet and realize just how far away she is from her granddad is a massive step up from missing him when he's only a drive away. Her room in the TARDIS is all hers, and it even fills itself with comforts that Donna forgot to bring, — like a blanket on the heavier side and a little squeezy stress ball that always seems to roll out from under her bed when she's upset — but at the same time, it never forgets what it is, an alien ship flown by an alien man. Something about the corners where the walls meet the floor are never right, never quite what a person, a human, would have built.

She doesn’t tell the Doctor about any of this. She doesn't have to. He must see it in her eyes because he starts pointing out little details on their journeys to her. He can somehow find a little piece of home to show her no matter where they are. They wait at a train station that will take them a few hundred miles below the surface of a planet and laugh at the confusing and colorful layout of the map provided, correcting each other back and forth about which station, exactly, they're even waiting at. Another time, he fiddles with a radio (or, what she assumes is a radio) with the sonic screwdriver until it starts to call out mournfully for Major Tom, singing a signal that got sent out into space thousands of years ago all to be picked up by the two of them. Even among aliens, there are commonalities, there are always reality TV shows that play on screens no one is watching (even if the contestants are a little more green... or blue... or translucent than she's used to) and automatic doors that never work right.

Constants in the universe that she'd be lost without, really. The Doctor knows where to look for them.

(Not for the first time, she wonders if that's because of how many humans he's had to curb the homesickness of, or because while she can look up at the stars and know home is still there for her to return to, even if she has no intention of staying, he can't.

Even Timelords must have had reality TV.)

The one constant that can center her like nothing else is food. Everyone in the universe cooks.

“All your memories," the Doctor had started explaining once, and Donna had learned to measure how long he would ramble about something by his tone alone. This voice was the 'at least twenty minutes before he'll take a breath' one. "Are stored away in your hippocampus, rubbing right against where your brain lights up when something hits your tastebuds, so-" Donna had taken those few moments to weigh her willingness to listen to him babble through their entire meal and decided instead to pick up the sandwich he wasn't eating and shove it in his mouth to shut him up. It had worked pretty well.

That’s why, when the Doctor wanders off into the crowd of the party they’re technically crashing and leaves Donna alone, she doesn’t think twice about approaching the buffet table. She’s not having much luck striking up a conversation, so she might as well find something to pass the time. She doesn’t recognize any of the food — hardly surprising when she’s only the third human in the room, as far as she’s seen.

She walks along the table, taking her time and half-wishing the Doctor would come back to keep her company. Maybe he’d gone off and gotten himself kidnapped. She grinned. Now, that would give her something to do and something to gloat about when the doing’s done. 

At the end of the table, just as she begins to despair (and contemplate one of the less appealing looking snacks,) there’s a plate of cheesecake. She blinks at it. It doesn’t squirm, or bleed, or make any weird noises when she gingerly scoops a little onto her plate. It’s just cheesecake. Looks like it, smells like it… She picks up a fork and pokes it one more time before breaking off a piece and putting it in her mouth. Tastes like it. It’s deliciously sweet. 

She eats the whole piece far too quickly. She only tenses once, a scolding voice creeping up in the back of her head that sounds too much like her mother, but then, she’s a billion miles and thousands of years away. Donna can have as much cheesecake as she damn well pleases. 

With a lighter step, Donna takes another piece to wander with. It’s just as good as the first, but she takes the time to savor this one.

”Donna,” the Doctor seems to appear out of nowhere, the only warning of his approach a familiar touch on her back sliding to grip her shoulder for a moment, “oh, you’re going to love this. They’re-“ He stops. She watches the grin on his face suffocate slowly. “What do you have there?” he asks. She’s been in enough life-or-death situations with him that his excited tone dropping so quickly makes her itch with the need to run.

”Cheesecake,” she answers. The Doctor grimaces.

”Right,” he says. “No. You don’t.” Donna looks down at her plate. “Definitely not cheesecake. Very not edible for humans. How long have you been eating that?” Donna feels her appetite drop out of her and pick up a bindle to hitchhike to someone who needs it more.

”I don’t know?” She looks around, which is useless because no one in the future bothers to keep clocks on the wall. They probably just have their alarms microchipped into their brains. The Doctor takes her plate away. He sets it down, and his attention returns to her immediately. His mouth is pinched as he takes her hand in his and starts checking her fingers for… something. 

“How much did you have? Stick out your tongue,” he says.

”What?” But his gaze is deadly serious. Donna sticks out her tongue and fumbles her words around it. “One piece. One and a half.” The Doctor stares very closely at her tongue. He lets out a sigh of relief, which she takes as permission to stop looking like a fool and put her tongue back where it belongs.

”You’re alright. You’ll be alright.” She’s not sure which of them he’s reassuring, but if it’s her, he’s not doing a very good job of it. He puts a hand on her shoulder and starts guiding her through the party. “Come on. We’ll take care of this.”

”Take care of what?”

”Just a minor… major… ‘possibly fatal if we don’t handle it’ case of food poisoning. Why are you putting things in your mouth that don’t belong there?” 

“You’re always letting me eat alien food!” 

“After I’ve made sure it’s safe!” 

“Maybe you should have warned me that death by cake was an option-” She cuts herself off as she frowns at the hallway he’s leading her down now that they’ve escaped the party. “The TARDIS is the other way.”

”I know.” She turns her gaze suspiciously onto him. He dropped the argument far too quickly for him not to be playing it up for her sake. 

“So… we’re going to whatever nurse they have here to pick up the antidote?” The Doctor makes a face that’s answer enough.

”Not quite.” He herds her along to a door near the end of the hallway. The automatic door clicks twice at them like it’s annoyed at having to do its job, and then it only opens up halfway, leaving them to have to scoot in sideways one after the other. Donna goes first.

Another constant in the universe: everyone has toilets. Even species who don’t need toilets create toilets, though those were less than useful to Donna and she really didn’t feel like marveling at universal similarities when she needed to go. Bathrooms also only came in two types, through which you could tell how much the janitors (another thing that everyone had) were being paid: clean enough to eat off the floor or so disgusting that Donna would seriously consider just waiting until they got back to the TARDIS.

This one was, thankfully, the former. Donna breathed a sigh of relief before remembering why the Doctor had brought her here in the first place. He spoke before she could ask. “There’s no antidote for this. Luckily, it’s also extremely slow to break down.” 

Donna can put two and two together.

”You want me to throw up the cake.” It isn’t a question. The Doctor treats it like one.

”Sooner rather than later, yeah.” He rocks back on his heels. Donna peers around. No stalls here, but there are identifiable toilets, which is more than some places can boast of. “I’ll turn around if you want some privacy.”

”I can’t.”

”Sure you can, just-” He unsubtly mimes sticking his finger down his throat. Donna glowers at him. 

“And I’m telling you,” she repeats, “that doesn’t work.”

”How do you know that?” Donna doesn’t answer him. The Doctor grits his teeth together and looks to the side. “Okay. I’ll…” He trails off. “I’ll help?”

”Help?” Donna repeats back to him, incredulous. The Doctor turns back to the automatic door, which has taken its sweet time closing and clicks angrily at him when he moves in range again. He whips up the sonic screwdriver in a flash and quiets the door. The sensor above goes dead, locking it. 

“Donna, we have to get it out of you,” he says. “Trust me when I say this is the quickest, least unpleasant way we can do this.” She does trust him. That doesn’t mean she has to like it.

”So what?” She glances down to the screwdriver he’s fiddling with, almost nervously. “Are you going to sonic my insides?”

”What? No!” The screwdriver disappears into one of his pockets. “Look, I can just- I can help.”

”How?” she demands. 

“I can make it happen,” he replies. “If you can’t do it yourself.”

Donna fixes him with a look. It clicks.

“You are not sticking your fingers down my throat!” She takes a step back and even sweeps a hand in front of her to protect the distance between them.

”Donna-” he starts, stubbornly, but on equal footing like that, she won’t give any more ground than he will.

”Stick your fingers somewhere more useful!”

”Donna.” He tries again, but there’s no argument in it this time. His voice is quiet and serious. His eyes plead with her to let him help. (He’s doing that on purpose, she knows he is, because no one could unintentionally look so despairing. And it’s still working on her.)

”…It’s really going to kill me if we don’t, isn’t it?” she asks. She doesn’t want to look at it. Can’t. Danger is something they’re supposed to be able to run away from.

”Yes,” he confirms. There’s a reassuring lightness to his voice as he continues, stepping forward and waiting to see if she pulls back again. She doesn’t. “Death by cake. Agonizing. Embarrassing. How do I explain that to your mom and granddad?” Donna snorts. It isn’t anywhere close to a laugh. The Doctor is close enough to touch her now, and he does, hands wrapped around her own and squeezing as she takes a deep breath.

”We’ve done weirder, I guess,” she says.

”I definitely have,” he says. “You’ve got a much nicer mouth than most of the ones I’ve gone poking around in.” He squeezes her hands a second time. She looks down at them, at his fingers firmly wrapped around her, his thumb rubbing the back of her right hand. 

“You’d better wash them first,” she says. This close, she can see the Doctor’s relief in the minute drop of his shoulders and the way the lines around his eyes relax into something happier. Her hands still feel warm when he lets them go. She tucks them close to her chest almost instinctively, like she can keep a little of his presence with her. 

She has to pick out a toilet. The locked door means privacy, but the lack of stalls still sets some part of her on edge. Lavatory instincts. The desire not to be seen when she’s about to be at her lowest. No one invites a friend in to watch them throw up after having too much to drink at a party. The last time she must have had anyone around for that, she’d barely been in double digits. She wasn’t sure exactly who it had been, but she remembered having her hair held back to keep it clean while she was miserably sick. 

She got down on the floor next to the toilet. A moment later, the sink the Doctor was using had switched off, and she could hear him pad over. 

“Ready?” he asks as he gets down beside her. She takes a breath.

”No?” She turns to him. “What should I…?”

”Try not to bite me.” Donna’s mouth twitches up for a brief moment.

”No promises.”

The Doctor puts his other hand over hers again, but his fingers rest on her chin first. His touch is very light, very still, waiting to see how she reacts. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. They feel chapped. He waits a moment before moving, lifting his fingers to place two of them against her bottom lip this time. 

“Should I stick my tongue out again?” she asks. It’s strange to speak with him touching her lip. The pressure of his fingers doesn’t impede her at all, but it is… there. His fingers bump her upper lip at certain sounds. They stay where they were when she’s finished until he answers. 

“That would make it easier.” Donna goes to lick her lips again without thinking, but  when she bumps a finger, she sucks her tongue right back into her mouth, slightly mortified. And then she snorts another almost-laugh because she has no idea what else she can do with the feeling. The Doctor smiles. He draws his fingers back to let her open her mouth.

She tries to keep her cool. The Doctor’s finger barely brushes her tongue, and… she bites him. And her tongue. Not hard enough to hurt, but they both hiss in surprise. The Doctor retreats, and she can see the pale indent of her own teeth on the top of his index finger.

”Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. Again?” She nods. This time, the Doctor lifts his other hand and places two fingers at the edge of her mouth, firm against her lower canine and lip and holding them open. She breathes, trying to relax. She doesn’t do a very good job of it. This time, when she feels his finger touch her tongue, she doesn’t bite down. Couldn’t now if she tried, but she’s proud of herself for keeping that reflex under control.

Having his finger in her mouth is… odd. He delves in with purpose. She can feel the pad of his finger slide back along her tongue as his knuckles rub against her teeth. She can hear herself breathing around it. 

He still goes slow, and so it doesn’t feel like an intrusion as much as it does an exploration she’s submitted to. Minute movements of her tongue feel amplified when they rub against his finger. A moment later and his nail bumps up against her soft palate. His eyes narrow and his finger slides deeper until Donna feels the urge to swallow around it.

”Hm.” He frowns. She did warn him. “You don’t have a very strong gag reflex.” 

She tries to respond and resorts to making an insulted noise in the back of her throat when she can’t. 

“I can still trigger it. Give me a minute.” She makes a questioning noise as his finger withdraws. He keeps her mouth open with his other hand. His thumb rests along her jaw, grounding her. Gently, he inserts his middle finger next to his index the second time he goes probing in her mouth. She grunts in discomfort.

She wonders if she should close her eyes. She would, except that whenever she tenses or makes a sound, his gaze jumps up to meet hers. It’s comforting to know that they’re stuck in this strangeness together. 

Breathing around two fingers feels more difficult. They squish against her tongue as they push back to her throat. Sensation becomes less sure the further back they are, until she can mostly feel a pressure that makes her want to pull away. She clenches the bottom of her dress up in her fists to keep still. The Doctor’s knuckles bump her teeth as he probes around in her throat.

It starts as a tingling sensation. Donna frowns. The Doctor pushes somewhere uncomfortable, and she makes an involuntary noise, her eyes welling up. He looks up to her again, and his sure expression is the only thing that keeps her calm. 

He withdraws a little. “Breathe,” he says, and Donna does, once, before he orders, “and stop.”

The constant sound of her own breathing freezes at his word. He pushes his fingers back in. 

Donna feels an awful choking sensation, her throat convulsing around some obstruction, and then a wave of nausea has her grabbing at the Doctor’s hand. He yanks his fingers out quickly as she bows forward over the toilet and throws up. Her throat burns. 

Donna sucks in a breath when it’s over. It hurts. Her mouth feels sour and disgusting. She blinks to see what mess she’s made, but aside from a splatter that she cringes from on the toilet’s side, she got the rest of it where it was supposed to go. 

She inhales again. Her eyes are watery. 

The Doctor is holding her hair. She only realizes that as she comes back to herself, but he’s got it all in his hand, the other on her shoulder holding her still. He lets go, smoothing her hair down back into place. Donna shuts her eyes to feel it better.

”Tell me it’s over,” she mutters. The Doctor doesn’t say anything. She forces her eyes open, unformed tears blurring her vision. “Doctor. Please.”

”Just one more time. I promise.” Donna makes a face, squeezing her eyes shut. She spits into the toilet, but that does very little to get rid of the sour taste flooding her mouth. 

“That better not be the hand that was in my mouth,” she mumbles. The Doctor stops touching her hair, and she regrets calling attention to it. She forces herself to sit up straight again and opens her mouth. She feels disgusting.

The Doctor touches her cheek this time before he secures her mouth open with his fingers. He doesn’t even look grossed out about touching her after she’s thrown up. 

He uses two fingers from the start this time. Donna’s jaw aches slightly. The Doctor’s fingers taste marginally better than the inside of her own mouth right now, and that’s some kind of relief. She’s never had cause to think about it before, but he tastes like… Well, he just tastes like some bloke. How fingers are supposed to taste, like skin and the salt of sweat. Not unpleasant, not enjoyable, and not alien at all. 

“Hold your breath,” he says. This time, she can brace herself as each sensation comes. The growing pressure of his fingers touching things he shouldn’t. The catch in her throat. The spasms. He pulls his fingers away. This time, when she lurches forward, she can feel the way the Doctor catches her shoulders on the way, helping her get everything into the toilet. He’s got ahold of her hair a second later, keeping it out of her way as her stomach’s contents are dragged out of her. 

Tears streak down her cheeks this time. She sniffs, and even the inside of her nose feels like it’s burning this time. She swallows, a mistake that makes her gag again, and then spits up bile from the back of her throat. 

“That’s it,” the Doctor is saying. He’s rubbing her back. It’s the only good thing she can feel right now. “It’s over. You’re safe.” She feels his lips press to her temple as she gasps in air, and then his own relieved exhale. “You’re safe.” 

Donna groans miserably.

The Doctor only moves a little to flush the toilet for her. She slumps into him, and he wraps an arm around her, resting his head atop hers.

“Never eating alien food again,” she mutters. “From now on, you’re bringing me back to Earth, and we’re ordering take-out.” 

“What about that little place on Muscolane?” he asks.

”…One exception for Muscolane.” Leaning against him like this, she can feel his chuckle as well as hear it.

He helps her to her feet. She wipes at her eyes and her nose as he brings her over to the sink. She doesn’t even bother to question it when he picks up a towel to wash her face off with. Donna stands perfectly still for him as he brushes it over her mouth and chin. She balks a little more at him picking a small paper cup from a dispenser and filling it before holding it for her to drink from. There’s something so tremendously earnest about him doing it that she allows it anyway. She sips slowly, fills her mouth and swirls it around, and then spits it into the sink as the Doctor refills the cup again. 

She takes it from him this time and drinks it at her own pace. He starts washing his hands, and her gaze darts down to his sleeve and a very conspicuous stain on it. She should feel embarrassed about that, but she’s too worn out for it. Besides, he knew what he was getting into. 

Someone rudely bangs on the door the Doctor locked. Or broke. Those words usually mean the same thing with him. The Doctor sneaks a glance at her, and when the pounding comes again, followed by demands to be let in, they both have to choke down giggles.  

“Back to the TARDIS?” he asks.

To answer, she takes his hand.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[wsdanon]

I'd love to hear the tragic character felps thoughts!

okay echo + anyone else reading this bear with me because i have lots to say and i'm not sure i can get it all down properly. it's worth mentioning my fic "it's not a fashion statement, it's a deathwish" is pretty much directly what i have headcanoned as felps' backstory. but for more detail and breaking things down:

firstly in canon while i think it's accurate to call felps not an active player, he was an active character in the plot. the reason he got kidnapped had a whole lead up to it \o/ one vod's worth (three videos on youtube), but still! he was heavily in character the entire time (even turning his crashing into a character moment--making his character paranoid that he was being watched)

that being said: felps doesn't log in as much. during the vod i mentioned earlier he said his gap was because he was in a mini-coma. i think he sleeps a lot! i've headcanoned him with a fatigue disorder of some kind, and the one month on ice just made it worse. i extrapolated on this idea and decided he'd have difficulty sometimes understanding what was dream and what was reality (i think i got this from narcolepsy? i haven't looked at it in a while but some of the symptoms of that was hallucinations and sleep paralysis I think).

this disconnect from reality was somewhat confirmed in his prison stream \o/ although since i can't pull up the exact quote/timestamp right now don't believe me too much

okay going under the cut now:

one of the "i like dropping that i think felps is a very tragic character" moments i mentioned was if him and pac actually got together, he'd have trouble believing it was real and not a dream. this is extremely self indulgent on the felpac side of things and i'll go back to just felps specifically but: presumably felps has been pining after pac for eight years! i think they're a mess of missed opportunities and both of them being too afraid to try and start anything, so if anything did happen it might not feel real

(the other tragedy is that nothing happens. and he stays pining forever)

back to felps specifically. in my backstory for him i have that he was killed and suddenly revived as a saint in a futuristic (for him) version of his town. this is incredibly alienating for him. he's very very lonely, and confused, and out of place and it's the building blocks for his and cellbit's friendship (as cellbit is also lonely, confused, and out of place). i've had some people mention recently that felps feels out of touch with reality in "it's not a fashion statement" and i'm glad because that was the intention!

first of all, he was dead for many years. second of all, everything is new and different. third of all, he's a saint. it's hard to process

regarding what we specifically see in canon: the "felps has a fatigue disorder" thing was a way to explain why he's away so much. but also… he's a saint. and in the prison stream he leant hard into that. there was no facecam or chat that entire stream. it felt really weird to me because he always has a facecam--or at the very least chat (he went live later on not for qsmp stuff with both). to me it felt like a way to showcase his disconnect from reality and kind of acceptance of his sainthood?

(another post before when i was talking about felps stuff i mentioned a lot of people praying to him is fucking him up a little--i think the more he gets prayed to and accepted as a saint the harder it is for him to grasp onto reality. saints aren't supposed to be alive, after all)

felps has had other occasions of disconnect from reality--he was one of the people to happily play into bad's denial when the eggs were missing. because one of felps' coping mechanisms is actually denial \o/ he doesn't go as full into it as bad, but you see him in other scenarios leaning onto denial. (after the one month on ice + in the prison stream learning how long he was gone for you can see him insisting he was only gone for a day or a few days and getting shocked/upset by the idea he was gone for a month/multiple months)

with felps logging on less, and having enough pieces in canon to explain away why (either he gets lost in his square, or he falls asleep) i think you can do a lot with the idea that sainthood is kind of claiming him and so he's not able to be present in reality anymore. which kind of freaks him out a bit. i said he was lonely in my backstory, and this kind of amplifies that. everyone's been through so much without him. he can't stop falling asleep and not waking up

anyway my final note of rambled felps characterisation is that he's also quite a paranoid character but he's not as loud about it as cellbit is. this is very messy but it's hard to get all my thoughts down about this. hope you enjoyed \o/