#i remember 2 years ago i had to go to the emergency room for a really bad ear infection

[emulation-0]

doctors are seriously the most insane people ever

[maximumzombiecreator]

Since I've had a few people asking about megadungeon stuff recently, and I am an avowed megadungeon megafan, I thought it might be fun to walk through an actual example of megadungeon play that exemplifies what I like best about it.

This post is going to be the first in a series talking about a room from a megadungeon that I ran over 20 years ago (brushing past that fact quickly lest the horrors set in.) It was a major room, probably the most complex and important in the dungeon, and the players passed through it frequently throughout the campaign. In this post I'll introduce you to the room, and then in later posts I'll talk about what it does well and how to use that lesson more generally. Below the cut is a reproduction of the map as I remember it.

Without getting into The Lore too deeply, some dwarves accidentally dug into hell, as one does. Classic trope, nothing wrong with using them. They quite sensibly shut the mine down and sealed if off, but word got out. A human king heard about this, and took over the mine, expanding it into a temple complex to curry favour / barter with hell. It went badly, as such things do.

This concourse connects several wings of the dungeon, spanning several floors. An enormous devil face statue emerges from the northern wall, above the second floor balcony and below the fourth, and a column of light shines through a hole in the ceiling onto the center of the floor. Several floors of balconies overlook the chamber, though the stairs to the fourth floor balcony have long since collapsed.

This chamber was not too far from the main entrance, with the party first encountering it on their second delve into the dungeon, though it would take two more delves for them to gather the courage to enter it. At the time they first encountered it, it was swarming with imps and other little devils worshipping the big face.

I'll summarize the key:

A. Hallway from the Entry Chambers, the first and easiest section of the dungeon.

B. Doorway to the Pilgrim's City.

C. Doorway to the Unholiest of Unholies. Sealed and warded against simple spells.

D. Doorway to the Old Dwarven Quarters.

E. Doorway to the Nobles' Section. Barred from the far side.

F. Portcullis to the Pilgrim's City. The mechanism has rusted out and no longer functions.

G. Doorway to the Halls of the Clergy.

H. Doorway from the King's Inner Sanctum.

I. Doorway to the Archive.

J. Doorway to the King's Inner Sanctum, locked.

K. Doorway to The Indulgences.

Stairway from floor 1 to floor 2.

Light from the hole in the ceiling.

Broken stairs from floor 2 to floor 4.

Big ole devil face. Its eyes are a one-way illusion, allowing anyone within the face to view the room below.

Okay that's a lot, thanks for sticking it out. While I don't want to wander too far off topic into the rest of the dungeon, I'll just briefly note that the Pilgrim's City and Old Dwarven Quarters are easier sections of the dungeon, the Nobles Section and Halls of the Clergy are slightly more difficult, the King's Inner Sanctum, Archive, and Indulgences are very dangerous, and the Unholiest of Unholies is, as one might expect, where the worst things (and best loot) in the dungeon are. This was 2nd edition AD&D, so there was not a presumption of fights being balanced, and traipsing through more dangerous sections of the dungeon at lower levels wasn't uncommon. The players also understood the varying levels of danger fairly implicitly, since the custom at the time was that any time you went a level further away from whatever the ground floor was, things got more dangerous. The only exception to this is the Unholiest of Unholies and I think we can agree that when it's beyond a magically sealed door under a giant devil head the danger is telegraphed.

Next post I'll start talking about what made this room work so well in practice.

[solargeist]

Okok here it is 1. Cw unreality stuff i guess? Like not being able to tell if you’re hallucinating 2. I know you said they scare each other but uhh they kind of psychologically horror each other it got away from me a bit

Scar figured he was finally going crazy.

It was overdue, really, with how long he had been alone. Stranded on a hostile world, left checking over his shoulder, expecting doom around every corner, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d started seeing things. A flicker of purple, staining his periphery as he moved about his base. It disappeared the moment he whipped around to see it, and faded from view within a few seconds every time that he noticed it, but as the stain stuck for longer and longer just in the very corner of his vision, he started to worry that this might actually be the end of him.

That was dramatic, he thought, over just a flash of purple tucked away in his blind spot, something very likely just a trick of the light. He thought, until he started monologuing to this violet cataract, started feeling the weight of eyes on his back. He’d cook more than he had planned to and leave plates out, disobeying the strict rations he had set for himself (because that was all he had to feed, himself, no one else). He had full conversations with an empty room, holding that violet smudge in the corner of his eye like a match cupped in shaking hands against a howling wind. The plates always ended up empty. He wasn’t sure who ate them. He couldn’t remember.

Time went on. Things got worse. He saw purple even when he wasn’t trying, still fading the moment he tried to pull it from his periphery, but still hiding there, by his cupboards and corners and closets, in every space that he wasn’t looking. He clung to it— sometimes it would leave for hours on end, he didn’t notice the absences before. Now they felt like bleeding out.

It was warm that day, he remembered, that he last spoke to the stain. Not directly to it, of course— moreso at it, or around it, or through it, something like that— but he found himself talking until he was hoarse nowadays and that day was no exception. “I’ve been meaning to replace these curtains,” he informed no one, stroking the sun-soaked fabric of the window between his thumb and forefinger as the shape behind him watched from the countertop. “I used to have boats on my curtains. My brother had spaceships. I was so jealous. It seemed so important then.” He let go of the curtain, letting his hand fall to the side. “I hope he’s okay. My brother. I keep hoping— I think he got off-world in time, before the transporter system broke down. They said on the radio, years ago, they’d come back for us. The scientists, not my brother.” He turned his head just slightly, catching the blurred shape in his vision as it leaned towards him. He wasn’t sure if it was genuine interest or just a bored shift. “No, the scientists said they’d get emergency transporters in place in a few months, so maybe he caught one of those, him and mom. Then again, the radios went down before the project was done, so. Not sure if they ever went through with it, if they decided we were a lost cause. I’m still here, I guess, just… waiting. For rescue, I think. Hopefully whatever it is I’m waiting for will come soon because I—“

He turned his eyed a degree too far. The shape that had grown so clear and close to him vanished like a candle blown out. He was in his kitchen. He was alone. A cupboard made bare by greedy hands and spiders, something was wrong, something was missing. He didn’t used to feel this bad about being alone, didn’t he? He had been alone before, had it really been this bad?

He figured he was finally going crazy.

Scar didn’t talk to the spot in his peripheral vision after that. He saw it and he looked away. He turned the lights out that night, all of them, hoping desperately that the darkness couldn’t trick him the way the light did. Still, his room illuminated in purple glow. He covered the mirror in the bathroom despite knowing that just behind his reflection lurked something that was not real and was not there. He closed his eyes and saw purple, purple, purple.

Tonight felt different, somehow, like fallen dew rather than ceaseless fog. Scar took a determined breath, not with less energy, but energy more focused. The air, now that he was just above the tree-line, seemed to breathe with him in powerful and controlled movements. The lights were on below him. Normally he wasn’t one to waste power, but he was facing this thing tonight if it killed him, and if it killed him, it wouldn’t really matter if he left the fridge open and the oven preheated. One more deep breath.

He found the spot in his peripheral as easily as breathing. It tried to flicker. He didn’t let it. A fraction of a degree at a time, he dragged his eye towards it, somehow forgetting its small, humanoid shape even as it lingered on in the center of his vision, form held together with spiderwebs and moth wings. Scar’s eyes burned but he didn’t dare blink. He could see them. A short, humanoid shape radiating purple and purple and purple. It was the inverse of blinding, nearly drowned out by its own afterimage, a bruise of light covering what Scar was certain was its face although he had to check a second time to make sure, the memories of what it looked like slipping past him like sand through fingers, vanishing the second he wasn’t actively thinking about it. He stared it straight in its eyes, or, where he thought its eyes should be, or, where he had already been staring and now could not remember why. He spoke, finally, for what he did not realize was the first time in a week.

“You.”

And it responded, in a voice as fragile and momentary as the wind chimes he used to keep on his porch,

“You see me?”

Or did it say, “So you can see me,” or, “I’m sorry,” or, “Was this it? Was this what you wanted? What you waited for, for so long, so very, very long?”

Or maybe it said nothing at all. Maybe he just imagined it. It had fallen through his fingers. The words were sand.

“Yes,” he answered, not remembering the question.

With a shaking hand he reached towards the bruise in his vision, palm up and terrified.

“You really shouldn’t be able to see me…” the thing muttered (but maybe didn’t), reaching forward with its own hand. Palm down, landing hesitantly on Scar’s. Their hands touched, and with the sound of glass wind chimes and an hourglass breaking in reverse, the haze shattered, reabsorbed into this newly material being like a lizard eating its own shed skin. Scar blinked. The thing, now visible and rememberable as a short, blonde man with two eyes (purple) and, in fact, an entire face typical of a person. The wings were new, though.

He looked down at their hands, still held, and dragged a thumb across the back of the man’s hand, remembering the texture; rough, but not calloused, like he maybe needed some lotion.

“How?” It asked, and this time it stuck in the world, echoing across the roof.

This time Scar didn’t answer. “Who are you?”

The man with wings hesitated. A second too long, and a new voice spoke, from no determinable source.

“Alright, sunrise, that’s enough.”

This voice shot clean through the world, a practiced arrow leaving no entry or exit wound. In fact, Scar was certain no one had spoken at all.

He looked back at the man whose hand he held. He was not there. Had he ever been there?

-🦕

OHH this was fun , i doodled bc the part abt Scar making two meals stuck out to me

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts of H Styles

A/N: this story was literally born out of the wifi incident happening to me. It was a weird experience lol but of course it inspired me to write a story around it. Basically you used to work for Harry as a PA and your life was hell. You bump into him in the present but before it unfolds we need to know what happened in the past.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————

I watch as Winnie types into her phone the number of the guy who’d just hit on her.

“And that’s with a y?” She looks up at him with doe eyes.

“Yea,” he falls for it. He was cute, and she worked a lot I didn’t blame her for taking who she could get. His accent also helped. “What’re you doin’ now?”

“Well,” her eyes slide to me. “Hanging with my girlfriend here.”

He nods at me and I smile, holding up the almost empty glass. “We were just about done for the night though.”

“We were?” Winnie checks in with me.

“Mhm,” I give her an encouraging nod.

Both Winnie and I were employed by musician-turned-actor Oretta Smith. Winnie was her nanny—or childcare companion as she called it, and I worked as Oretta’s executive assistant. It was full-time and demanding as hell but ever since Oretta had her first child a couple months back I’d gotten a lot more breathing room as she minimized her public life and stayed close to home.

This long weekend Oretta was staying with her in-laws and asked us to take it off. I’d already requested the weekend off knowing we were in London but being off at the same time as Winnie was impossible so we’d gone out to celebrate and let loose—9pm and only 2 drinks in, both of us had already started talking about the comfort of our beds. Until flirty dude came up to Winnie.

“What do you say?” Winnie’s new date asks her.

“Aw shucks alright,” Winnie flashes her beautiful smile and hops off the stool. I don’t even see her drop the bills onto the table as she hugs me goodbye and leaves until it’s too late. She’d covered for both of us. Well I’d get her back next time.

I finish the rest of my drink, eyes flicking to the reruns of tonight’s soccer game. This wasn’t the fanciest bar—it was quite homely compared to the ones Winnie and I often found ourselves at. But it was one I used to go to when I worked in London just over a year ago. Being back in the city, despite all the awful memories, pulled me towards the nostalgic comfort of it.

I remember the many dates with my now-ex, the random nights I’d actually get off, and drown myself in drink to forget about my awful employer. Or the birthday and milestone celebrations—especially the ones I started to miss near the end.

I consider walking the few streets over to my old flat. Coincidentally the job I’d gotten wasn’t far from home. The upside was that it made dealing with “emergency” texts from my employer a lot quicker but the downside was it grouped all the traumas I experienced in this beautiful city to a few blocks. I didn’t miss it.

I cut my memory lane rabbit-hole short and decide it was time to order an Uber and get out of here; I had an early train to catch tomorrow.

The bars on my phone flicker up and down as I open the app and continue to refresh it over and over. But my signal remains unstable.

“Stupid phone,” I mutter. I had to update my provider while I was here asap.

“‘Scuse me?” I wave down someone serving drinks. “Have you got wifi here?”

“Yep we do!” She smiles. “Name’s The Violinist and the password’s capital p….”

Her voice grows far away as my blood runs cold and I stare at the list of available wifi networks. I feel myself nod a thank you when she stops talking and she leaves taking the password with her while I’m stuck staring.

My networks:

🔗H’s iPhone

I want to duck down and run away, not spend another second around anything to do with that era of my life. But I also want to hunt him down and show him how much better I was doing after him, despite.

The second instinct wins. Kind of.

I don’t hide away. I scan the dimly lit room and try to spot the familiar head of hair but it’s on the third try that I spot him. And it’s probably because his hair is barely an inch long.

He must’ve cut it recently, I’m surprised. Him without his hair was like Harry Potter without his scar.

The feelings are instantaneous though. The loathing and the need to cry. My heart continues to race as I burn a hole into the side of his head.

He was the devil incarnate and I had thought about him for a second too long just now. And now here he was. What the fuck was a guy like him doing here?

I remember the awful times; the casually cruelty and the late nights he would make me work. His constant criticism. The way my life fell apart because of him. The way I could wring his neck with very little incentive at any given moment.

He had turned my whole life upside down. He ruined me.

Harry Styles wasn’t the sweetheart everyone painted him out to be.

And yet, a flash of a feeling, a fleeting memory I try to keep locked away pushes to the front of my mind.

“Fuck no,” I tell myself. There was no room for fondness when it came to the devil.

About 2 years ago:

I straighten out the blazer, wondering if I should be chic and roll the sleeves up a bit or just keep them down. My reflection shows a nervous mousy girl that’s trying too hard. I throw my hair into a ponytail instead and feel a more like myself. Just as the elevator doors ding open.

I’m in the penthouse suite I would be working out of for the next however long; it was my first day on the job and I was still sorting out my nervous to excited ratio.

After looking for months, I’d landed a PA gig for up-and-coming rockstar Harry Styles. It was a dream come true and everyone was ecstatic for me, most of all my boyfriend who’d helped me land the role.

My boyfriend, Grayson, was a personal trainer to a lot of big names and he’d been keeping his ear to the ground for me. We met a few years ago at the gym of course, I’d still been a student and he worked part-time at the student gym. Back then he was still working to get a better client list.

We’d clicked pretty quickly and Grayson, who was anything but shy, asked me out. Soon after he was telling me he had feelings for me and I’d felt them echo back the same. He was my biggest supporter and when I told him I wanted to take this career path seriously he’d been the first to show me what steps to take to get there.

My true dream was to become a publicist and work with celebrities, but fresh out of post-grad everyone told me I’d need to dive head first and get my hands dirty. And I’d have to do that by finding a PA role for a publicist or an industry person.

“Y/n?” My name interrupts my thoughts. It comes from a disembodied head peeking out from a doorway. “You are y/n right?”

“Yes!” I hurry over. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes. I’m Mr. Styles’ exec assistant, I’m only here for the next,” he looks down at his watch. “Half hour perhaps? So let’s get you sorted before I head out.”

“Oh okay. Sure,” my ears ring, I was going to be alone on my first day. I didn’t even know he had an executive assistant. What was the difference between him and me? What if I screw up and this guy was part of the fallout plan? Shit. “Is Mr. Styles in?”

“Not at the moment, he’ll be in before noon. He has a few appointments this morning. Typically you’d be going with him but he left before you arrived so…next time. Make sure you get any paperwork he received from the appointments and file them in here-“ he points to a room with a filing cabinet. Like an actual cabinet. This was a tight ship. “You sound American. Are you American?”

“Yep,” I debate whether to tell him I stayed after doing my degree here but decide to keep the yapping to a minimum.

I continue following the EA—who I should get the name of, as he points out rooms and overlaps it with info about Mr. Styles’ schedule and routines. A lot of info. My brain felt like it was barely holding on.

I think about the man I was now working for, the one who came into the interview for a brief 10 minutes. Surely that laid-back guy wasn’t the anal mystery man I was getting all these instructions for.

The interview itself had gone pretty smoothly apart from the fact that I nervous-laughed a few times too many. I had gone silent when The Harry Styles had walked into the office. He’d sat beside me at the round table, slouching slightly and flashing me a reassuring smile—I had felt my shoulders dip down immediately.

“So it’s y/n right? I’m pronouncing that correctly?” He’d said in his perfectly charming accent.

“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you officially.” I had to tamp down every urge to gush over him. I was a professional. I was zen.

“So y/n,” he says my name so casually and yet I feel myself lean closer to hear him say it again. “I’ve seen a couple of you come in here for the PA role. What makes you different then?”

Think think, just be calm and think!

“Well I’m a very passionate person so I put my all into everything I do. That would include this job, and in turn you’d benefit by getting peace of mind knowing I’m tackling whatever behind the scenes items that need to get done to get you where you need to go.”

“Well said,” he says with a smile that says he knew he was very good looking. “Now trust is a big factor in this relationship.”

As he talks I forget his manager is even in this room. I’m swept up in the hazy green of his eyes.

“We’ve done the background checks and all that—right?” He looks to his manager who was interviewing me and gets a nod. “But how can you reassure me. My staff gets approached by the media daily for any info on me. What’s to say you don’t sell out.”

“I would never,” I didn’t even think of that being an option. “Confidentiality and trust is the biggest pillar of this role and I take it very seriously. You’re like, the biggest celeb of the last year but I know you’re also a person and I wouldn’t betray that. On a person level.”

“So even if you had a really bad day, say I had gotten you to do some impossible tasks. And you’re heading out head full of steam and you get approached by a reporter. £5k for an exclusive.”

I shake my head. “As tempting as it would be, professional ethics reign over any of that.”

“I believe you y/n,” his eyes flicker down to my file. “Good references. We’ll be in touch.”

Now my eyes roam around the small room I’m meant to work out of. It’s the size of 1.5 supply closets with half the walls filled with shelves and cabinets. There’s a small desk but I wasn’t sure how often I’d be sitting at it. All the PAs I’d ever connected with always complained about the amount of time you spend on your feet. That’s why I’d opted to buy myself runners when I got the job.

“Any questions—mind you I have 1 minute for them before I’m off? There’s a suit I have to sort out.” The EA turns to me when we circle back to my office/supply closet.

“Oh,” a million race through my mind. Nothing that would fit in a minute. “I um, I guess I didn’t catch your name?”

He seems surprised at that, and then he laughs. “Oh you’re a doll. This place is gonna eat you alive. I’m Riley and tip for you—don’t be so eager to please. Do your job. Do it well. But you’re not here to be liked or make friends alright?”

He laughs again when he looks at my face. He hands me an iphone and tells me it’s programmed with everything and everyone I needed, then waves goodbye leaving me in a confused spot.

I wasn’t naïve, I knew what working in this industry was like but I was could swear I’d landed a good gig with Harry Styles. And meeting the man himself in the interview had confirmed it.

Maybe Riley was just jaded by too many long hours.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Grayson: good luck on your first day babe. let me know how it goes.

I only have time to heart it when I hear the elevator open in the foyer. I rush out just for Harry to brush past me and his manager following, chattering away about something.

I follow from behind and watch as he heads to the kitchen. Riley had shown me what he laid out on the island and how I should do it going forward. And like two magnets Harry reaches for the exact bottle Riley mentioned. He downs the smoothie and then collapses onto the barstool.

“But don’t forget what she was saying about the single needing to be global. Sure your fanbase would love it but would the people who hate you have to admit it’s good.”

“I make it for my fans not for the wankers that hate me,” Harry says and his voice is rich like caramel.

“You know what we mean.” His manager suddenly turns directly to me. “Can you contact the studio and let them know to push Harry’s 1pm to 3?”

“Oh,” I didn’t even know they knew I was here. They gave no acknowledgement until now. “Of course. Um, could I just get the paperwork from this morning too? The appoint-“

“Yep,” his manager unhauls the items in his hands. The whole time Harry stares out the window. I’m handed a stack of papers and I carry them to the office.

My hands are shaking when I put them down and I feel a lump in my throat. What was wrong with me? Why was I reacting this way?

I find the studio contact in the phone Riley gave me and let them know. They’re suspicious at first but accept the reschedule. I leave the paperwork for later, figuring I might be needed now.

But the rest of the morning I’m unacknowledged save by a few requests from Harry’s manager. I spend some time looking through the calender in the phone that’s pre-programmed with Harry’s entire life. It’s packed except for this Sunday. I wonder if it was actually free or just hidden from me since it was my one day off.

“You’ve got a passport haven’t you…?” It’s the first time Harry’s spoken to me. He’s changed into a hoodie and shorts, his manager is nowhere to be seen, and I’ve just bitten into a granola bar—the first thing I’d had since my morning coffee.

“Y/n.” I try to swallow the bite whole but at the last minute push it to the side to try to answer. “Erm yeah. I haven’t got it on me though.”

“Right. Y/n. Start carrying it. I’ll need you with me on Thursday I have a morning meeting in Léon and since Riley’s going to be sorting out something for my New York trip in a couple weeks he can’t make it.”

“Yes. I will. Do you need me to prepare anything else for the trip? I’m not sure if you’ve packed or-“

“It’s just a meeting.” He cuts me off. He pulls out his phone, dismissing me.

I swallow the knot in my throat once more.

I go with Harry to the studio since his manager is meeting us there. Alone in the car with him, the silence feels stuffy.

“I never got the opportunity to say thank you by the way,” I try to open up a conversation. All he was doing was looking out the window surely I wasn’t interrupting anything.

“What?” He stares right through me.

“Um, I’m just saying thank you. For the job.”

He nods.

I stay silent for the rest of the ride.

The studio is quiet, which makes sense when I think about it but upon entering an actual room I change my mind. The noise assaults my ears and I nearly jump at the volume but my hand gripping the doorknob keeps me in place.

People swarm around Harry.

“I need my tablet and my notebook,” Harry says amidst the small chaos.

What the fucks was he talking about. “Sorry?”

“My tablet and notebook,” His face darkens and so does my mood. Nobody told me! But maybe I should’ve asked oh my god.

“I don’t have it,” I say lamely.

“Any time I’m in the studio I need those two things. You need to get me my tablet and my notebook.” He speaks like a robot.

“I-I’ll head back,” I get my bag again. “Tablet and notebook, is there anything else?”

He looks angrier than I thought. He sticks his hands in his pocket, shuffles something in his hand before handing it over. “You may as well get lunch. Keep that card on you for business costs.”

I open my mouth to ask what he might want but he turns away as soon as I take the card and I’ve already fucked up royally so I decide to wing it.

In the car I consider googling what Harry Styles ate for lunch and instead will the ever living shit out of myself not to cry.

I scroll through the phone, debating if calling Riley for help would be a mistake. Going through every app for help I realize the countless notes in the app.

Morning Routines, says one. It lists things I should do when the mornings were spent at home, in studio, abroad, in a hotel, or if I walk into a “morning-after” morning. Jeez.

Another has checklists for what to do when travelling, how-to for routine appointments I should be booking, routine people I should be calling.

Why didn’t I look at this before. Right there is one called Studio Days and in bold it says what to bring.

I was an idiot. A big fat idiot.

I try my luck and search lunch. Sure enough a note with possible lunch places in cities across the world pops up.

It was a How-to guide for Mr. Styles.

Whoever put this shit together was an angel. I owed them my life.

I decide to be proactive, sorting lunch out to be delivered to the studio while the car drops me off. I run to the room Riley had said was the home studio. Sure enough I spot the tablet and a few notebooks, I grab all 3. I also grab the charger and ignore the bag of weed chilling on the arm of the chair.

What to do when he’s too drunk / What to do for Interview Days / What to do when he won’t answer the door or the phone / Day-off checklist / Social media checklist.

The dos and don’ts go on and on as I scroll through on the ride back. This was going to be my homework and by the end of the week I was gonna be a genius.

I swipe away and check if I had missed any folders containing precious info. Just the trash.

Out of curiosity I open it and there’s only 1 sitting inside: the donts of working for Harry Styles

I open it:

-don’t let one nice day fool you into forgetting he’s an arse and your employer

-don’t expect any gratitude from a narcissist

-don’t fall for his charm

-don’t shit where you sleep. no matter how tempting

-when he pisses you off which he will, don’t mouth off. what happens next is worse than being fired. which he won’t do because he’s the devil and he will want to keep you around after treating you like shite

-don’t think he’s chill. he’s anything but. follow the checklists and the rules.

-don’t have a life. actually this is a CAN’T. YOU CAN’T HAVE A LIFE WORKING FOR THE DEVIL. LEAVE AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN UNLESS YOU HATE YOURSELF

I close the phone immediately, my heart thumping in my chest like a steady bass in the background of a song. What the hell did I get myself into.

***

It’s 8pm by the time I head back with Harry. The car is once again silent.

I had spent the day reviewing emails and the checklists, fielding calls and texts. His personal chef had texted to tell me dinner was prepared and in the oven to be re-heated so I figure that’s the last thing I’d do before I head home.

I’d eaten lunch standing while watching Harry sing background vocals to the album he was working on. It was hard to deny how intoxicating it was to see such a talented man work his magic. And it really was magical seeing how a song got put together.

That is until he’d sent me to get tea for the room and I’d nearly spilled half of it on myself getting enough back to the room. I was getting an electric kettle next.

I made a new note then: Reminders to do so you don’t get fired

The notes were my saving grace.

“My head is killing me,” Harry groans.

What to carry at all times: #4 paracetamol and #2 water

Checkmarked after going to the pharmacy while he was in the studio. I’d created an emergency makeup bag with essentials I could throw in my tote. I considered it a win today.

I hand the painkillers to him and he seems surprised. He replaces them with his phone.

“I don’t want to look at a screen for the rest of the night.”

“Okay.” I leave his phone beside me and try not to think of everything on it.

It vibrates a few minutes later and I leave it, not wanting to invade his privacy but he glances at me.

“Well?”

“Oh!” I lift it but it’s locked.

“1021.”

I type it in. “Um, Jeff wants to know if you’re still at the studio-“

“Reply to him.”

I do as I’m told.

“Um Mitch wants to know if you’re-“

“If it’s scheduling questions you can probably answer them without bothering me about it.”

I look up and he’s tipped his head back, eyes closed. Right. Of course I could.

I go through his schedule and find his studio time on Friday and relay it to Mitch. I respond to another text from someone asking if he was going to a gala in a couple months—his schedule said he was in LA so no. I wondered if I would also be in LA in a couple months. I wonder what Grayson would think.

Grayson, I’d had a short call with him a few hours ago and tried not to cry hearing his voice. It felt like home when the whole day felt so foreign.

I stare at the final text. The contact photo is the side profile of a gorgeous woman.

“Kimberly wants to know if you want um,” I feel my cheeks burn. “If you’re inviting her in tonight because she has a party she really wants you to go to.”

“I can’t be arsed for a party I feel like shite.” Harry says, eyes still closed. “Tell her to be at mine after 10.”

“Ok.” I type the words with a racing heart. I remember the morning-after checklist for this exact scenario. It wasn’t going to be weird soon I guess.

I heat up dinner for Harry while he showers and leave letting him know what time I’d be in tomorrow. He doesn’t even say goodbye.

I get home around the time I reckon Kimberly gets to Harry’s. The first thing I do when I see Grayson is shed a waterfall and he holds my exhausted body tight against him.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” He whispers to me in bed after a shower and sandwich—I couldn’t stomach anything more.

“I need this job Gray. It’s gotta get better.”

“I reckon but it’s a steep learning curve,” he says as he traces the curve of my nose.

“I know,” I snuggle closer to him and yawn. I don’t know what he says next as I tip into sleep.

***

If the notes app manual with the dos and donts of being Harry Styles’ PA was a physical thing, imagine me swallowing it.

Every spare second I had—which I didn’t get a lot of, I was reading that thing. My fingers searched tirelessly before every scheduled and unscheduled event. And yet, I’d fucked up so many times.

It was Saturday and I was looking forward to my day off.

He had been hot and cold all week but ever since getting back from Léon he’d been nicer and I’d actually been getting home before 8.

Maybe things were going well, despite the fact that the learning curve was like climbing mount everest.

“What’s my morning look like?” Harry asks. I was sitting at his kitchen table trying to book a dinner for him next week with a friend that was in town. A friend who also happened to be big back where I was from—I hoped to catch a glimpse of her myself.

I glance up and look back down just as quickly. After a week of seeing Harry in all sorts of undress I should be used to it, but my face still flushes. Today he stands at the table in running shorts.

“Pulling it up,” I say and scan his schedule even though I had it memorized. “You’ve got a meeting at the bank in about 40 minutes and lunch with Michael.”

“Can’t my accountant take the bank meeting?”

“She’ll be there. She’s meeting you downstairs to discuss the meeting on the ride over. You need to sign off on some stuff.”

“Stuff,” Harry repeats.

I look at him, careful to train my eyes on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at my lack of elaboration or just teasing me.

“Documents.” I correct, still unable to tell.

He look amused. “Great. Documents. I thought I’d be signing body parts.”

Was he joking? He was joking…I think.

“Right. No, we’re saving that for the tattoo shop booked for 6.”

He raises his brows, a slow smile spreading across his face and like the sun coasting over the horizon he looks brighter and prettier.

“That’s mad, that people would get a random man’s signature tattooed on them isn’t it?”

It’s inevitable really, my eyes skim over his torso brimming with tattoos. He notices and laughs. It’s a wonderful laugh.

“I meant they don’t really know me.”

“They admire you and it’s a piece of you,” I shrug. “At least it’s not a portrait of your face.”

“I’ve seen that floating around the internet actually.”

“Really?!” Now that was mad. I pull it up on the laptop and cover my mouth.

“I know.” He hangs his head and we laugh. God, things were finally getting better. This was the kind of relationship I thought Harry would have with his PA.

I scroll through comments and it’s impossible to wipe the smile off my face. I’ve considered myself a fan for a lot of artists but tattooing their face…that was another level of commitment I couldn’t do.

I look back to Harry who has grown quiet. His eyes are on me.

“What happened to your blazers?”

I’d decided to wear a skirt today, it was my lucky skirt—the one I had been wearing when I got the call that the job was mine. It being the last work day of the week I thought it might make me feel good.

I’d paired it with a tank top and a comfy cardigan. I’d finally felt like myself compared to all the button ups and blazers I’d been parading in. But apparently Harry had noticed the wardrobe difference. Shocker because he barely acknowledged me this week.

“I thought I’d dress for a Saturday?” It comes out meeker than I’d hoped. Ugh. “I hope that’s alright. If you want me more professional-“

“That’s alright,” his eyes roam down my body and I feel hot all over. Oh god, I shouldn’t have worn this. “It looks good.”

“Thanks,” I cross my cardigan over my body and try to get back to work but he doesn’t let it end there.

“Did you make that yourself?”

He continues to surprise me, “I did actually, is it obvious?”

“Yeah there’s a big hole down the back,” he teases. I know he is because his eyes are smiling, light.

“Damnit,” I relax a little. He was only interested in the sweater. “I’d finished it late it looked okay in the dark.”

“I have a friend, she made one of those for me. With the patches. Very comfortable.” He’s weirdly intense while looking at me and I feel like squirming again.

“It is. Very stretchy.” My vocabulary seems to shrink.

He leans over to touch the fabric and I feel like a cactus has been stabbed into my neck, I feel hot and prickly. Jeez, I had to chill out. My employer was just interested in my sweater. Super interested. Maybe I should just give him the damn thing. It would definitely fit him.

“Wool,” he smiles. He’s basically perched above me and I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I went from complaining about the fact that he acted like I wasn’t in any room he was in to not even being able to hold a conversation when he did.

I’m caught looking up into his unfairly gorgeous eyes and he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. Which I was in this instance, but still.

I’m saved by a loud voice coming out of the elevator.

“Harry you car is waiting downstairs.”

Like a book slammed shut, his expression retreats until all that’s left is the cover page with no summary. The friendly Harry from before is gone.

“Oi Harry! I had to come all the way upstairs because I’ve been sitting in that stupid car waiting! Do you not pick up your phone?”

“Lee,” Harry says as he walks across his living room. “If you can’t reach me you call my PA I’ve told you a million times.”

“And I’ve told you a million times not to keep me waiting. We have a lot to cover before we get to this meeting and I need every minute. God why are you shirtless go put on something appropriate!”

Harry miraculously does as he’s told—given I had already laid out an outfit for him. He’s ready in no time. His accountant, Lee? Simply smiles at me and goes back to typing on her phone while we wait.

“Why is that so wrinkled?” Lee judges Harry who walks out in a completely different outfit.

“I don’t have time to change again do I?” Harry bristles.

Lee looks over at me and I’m not sure if she’s accusing me of something or looking for support.

“Mr. Styles I did leave an outfit out for the m-“

“I don’t wear silk.” He cuts me off and walks out ahead. Lee shrugs my way and follows him. I trail behind, feeling worse than ever.

For a miserable hour and a half I sit in one of the most uncomfortable chairs of my life, organizing Harry’s life while I wait for his meeting to end. As hard as I try to concentrate, I keep agonizing over what I might have done wrong to flick his switch. I swear things were going better. And I know I’ve seen him in silk before. Why the hell else would it be in his closet? Why couldn’t I go a single day without screwing up?

I finally spot Harry walking out of the office and gather my things quickly to meet him. I trail behind as we walk down the hall into the lobby, Lee is nowhere to be seen.

A gasp catches my attention and suddenly a girl younger than me rushes up to Harry.

“Oh my…Harry Styles?”

Harry’s face morphs briefly into annoyance, his gaze flicking my way, before pasting on a smile for the girl.

What to do when a fan approaches H (in the wrong moment): be the bad guy, divert, get Harry to wherever he needs to go to and do it quick.

“Hi,” Harry smiles sweetly at her and the friendliness throws me off guard. But this was unexpected and I should get him away…I think.

“Oh my god could I get a picture? My mate is never going to believe this. She loves you so much, so do I-“

“We really have to be going.” I say and the girl looks at me, surprised to find me there. I look around and spot and older woman watching us. Must be her mum.

“Could I just get a picture?” She glances between us.

“I don’t think Mr-“

“It’s fine,” Harry hands me her phone. “Get a photo of us.”

Just another layer of humiliation to add to the rest of the day. The rest of the week. God was I just awful at reading cues?

I snap a couple and then we’re walking free.

He doesn’t say anything. The car ride to his lunch date is spent in awkward fucking silence and I hate myself more with every second I spend in it.

When the car stops at his destination he holds his hand up when I go to open the door for him.

“Listen -what's your name again?" He asks.

Shame and humiliation drip over me like blood on Carrie’s prom night. I repeat it for him. Just like I had daily since I was hired.

“Right. Y/n. You came highly recommended from a friend so I trust you know how to do this job. This job, is to keep my life organized and keep me on track. Make sure I'm not distracted or side tracked by anyone. Including you. It’s not to be my publicist or my fashion advisor or my personal security. Let's stick to the job description okay?"

His words land bitterly to my ears. Not personal. Just a job. Just a job. Just a fucking job. And yet it was starting to feel like my whole life.

“Yes of course.” I hear myself mumble. And like the big clown I had to be, I push open the door and get out so he can too. He walks to the restaurant without a goodbye and I crawl into the car, heading back to his place. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them out. Refuse to admit just how badly this job hurt.

***

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” I hiss into the phone. “You know I’d be there right now if I could!”

“Babe I get it’s your job but you haven’t come to anything in over a month since you started your job!”

“That’s unfair,” I cup my hand over my mouth. “Gray c’mon I’m going to be there just late.”

“That’s what you said last weekend.”

Last weekend, one of our good friends invited a few friends for dinner in their new place and Greyson had had to go alone. Everyone had messaged me to say I was missed but Gray had been stony, pretended to be asleep when I got home and then given me the silent treatment until I wore him down the next day. It was exhausting begging for affection.

“It’s my job Grey I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Me neither, you know my parents want us over for weekend roast some time but I’ve been avoiding giving them a date because I don’t want you to stand them up.”

“I-“ a shadow shifts in the corner of my eyes and I look up. Harry stands in the doorway. “I have to go we’ll talk later.”

“Whatever y/n,” Grey hangs up and my chest squeezes with all the hurt I was causing. But he saw the state I’d been in since I started this job a month ago and he knows this is just my life right now. Why was he suddenly acting like it was brand new information?

“Are you done your personal call?” Harry asks. He hovers in the doorway, I’d never actually seen him in this little office space. Then again, if he did step in there wouldn’t be much room for either of us to walk around each other.

“Sorry,” I hate myself for apologizing. Here and everywhere else in my life. But I have no other choice. “Can I do anything for you?”

“When are you heading out tonight?” He asks. His eyes glued to my face. I know my eyes are teary and I try to blink it away.

“Um, soon. In an hour or so,” blink blink blink. “Did you need anything from me before then?”

“Yes, I have a friend coming over tonight. Can you order us something for dinner. Something light. And get a bottle to chill for us—champagne. And can you push Monday’s cleaning service to tomorrow afternoon?”

“Consider it done.” I tell him, hoping he would just leave me alone in the dark here.

“Do you have evening plans?” He continues. Why did he never ignore me when I wanted him to!?

“Kind of yeah,” I try to keep it short. “A birthday.”

It was Grayson’s sister’s birthday. She had invited us to a local fave called The Violinist and of course I would only make it to the dessert course if I was lucky. These days, making it to dinner at all was a luxury. I lived off of sparkling water, leftovers, and coffee.

“Well best to finish up what you’re doing so you can head out.”

He leaves and I’m annoyed. Why couldn’t he be nice and just tell me to leave after doing what he asked. But here I sit folding fucking pamphlets for some idiotic pledge he had signed on for. Fuck me.

I’m miserable by the time I leave. I’d managed to finish everything in a half hour so I’d touched up my makeup and changed into a simple dress I had kept in the office closet on Riley’s suggestion.

“A simple black number that could be used for any last minute event.” He’d said. Unfortunately that now counted for personal events too.

“G’night Mr. Styles.” I call out as I walk to the foyer, just so he knows I was going out earlier than I said.

“G’night,” he answers surprisingly. He always ignored me but tonight he sits on the couch. He rises to see me off but I notice him pause and take in my outfit. “Fun night?”

“I hope so.” I unfold the blazer in my hand, suddenly wanting to disappear with his gaze on me.

His long legs walk to me and he takes the blazer I’m fidgeting with from my hands. He actually holds it open and if I wasn’t this exhausted my jaw would definitely be on the floor.

“Oh. Thank you,” I slip it on and turn to face him. As if helping me put it on wasn’t surprising enough, he proceeds to untuck my hair from the blazer.

“That’s alright,” he says in a low seductive tone. “You look nice. Are you dressed up for someone?”

The question is dangerous, toeing a line I’m not sure I want to erase. I try to ease things with a joke. “The birthday girl I guess.”

“A friend?”

“My fiancé’s younger sister.”

Was it just me, or does he bristle when I mentioned my fiancé?

“I didn’t know you were engaged,” he mumbles, glancing down at my hand. I wore a number of rings and I guess the small diamond Grayson had proposed with back when it was the most he could afford, blended in.

“Yeah, nearly a year now.”

“Wow,” he crosses his arms. “Have a date set?”

“Not exactly,” I smooth my hair behind my ears. “We’re thinking next year but we’ve just been so busy with out schedules-“

“What does he do?”

“He’s a personal trainer,” I say proudly.

“Oh,” Harry tilts his head back. “Oh. Now I understand. Now I get the connection. My mate Liam put in a good word for you when I needed a new PA, he said he knew you through his personal trainer. He never mentioned how.”

“I see,” I’d have to thank Liam next time I saw him. He’d been one of Grayson’s first big clients and had become a close friend to us. I’d have to thank him with dinner. If I got any nights off, that is.

“That’s who you were talking to on your personal call?” He asks, his hand tracing my shoulder seam down to my elbow. My heart races from the ghost of his touch.

“Erm yeah, sorry again. I had to take it since it was time sensitive.”

“Best to get going then.”

I take a step backwards and then rush to the elevator all at once. Once I’m on and the doors start to close I turn and catch a glimpse of his handsome face watching me go.

I let out a breath. That was weirdly heavy. And kind of intimate. But weird. That was weird.

I wonder briefly who he was having over tonight. If it was Kimberly, who I’d had the misfortune of meeting in her panties one morning. Or his other “friend” some brunette named Maya or Amaya something. I’d had the misfortune of meeting her when I dropped off a late package to Harry one evening. All were awkward encounters.

I shake away the thoughts and am grateful when Harry’s driver waves me down on the sidewalk. I guess Harry had told him to take me to where I needed to go. My heart is warmed ever so slightly, although I do accidentally nap on the 15 minute drive over.

I make it for the end of dinner and Gray looks relieved to see me even though his eyes hold a hint of something unspoken. I try to ignore it tonight.

“Oh you look beautiful!” I hug the birthday girl, and we sway from side to side. I used to see her a lot before she moved away for uni. “When did you stop being a baby, Josie Duran let me get a look at you.”

“Josefina tell her what you did for your 21st.” Gray says.

“Can you let it go!?” Josie scowls.

“What?” I whisper.

“Mom will kill you,” Gray warns.

“That’s why she doesn’t have to know,” Josie bites.

“Hey,” I put my hands up between the two. “No fighting with the birthday girl. Anyway. Josie, you look beautiful, I’m so sorry I’m late but it’s so good to be here.”

“Aw no don’t worry about it,” she goes in for another quick hug. “I’m just happy you got to come. Gray said the bloke you work for is a nightmare. Tell us do we know him?”

“Ah,” I wasn’t really supposed to talk about him according to my nda. “I dunno if you would. Anyway I’m going to try to steal some of Gray’s leftovers until dessert comes.”

I sit beside Gray where the seat had been left empty and smile up at him, hoping for forgiveness. He sighs and kisses my forehead, pushing his plate towards me.

“Go ahead, have you eaten?”

I had a banana and a yoghurt for lunch but I don’t tell him, just making a vague answer for yes and scarfing down what’s left.

“She got a tattoo,” he says in my ear later as the restaurant finishes singing happy birthday and a cake with sparklers is set down. He’d gotten tipsy and I can tell because he wants to talk about his upsets.

“She’s a grown woman Gray,” I know he was protective and a little traditional—that’s where half of their sibling fights originated, but I always told him he had to let loose a little. “She’s allowed to get it. If I remember you have some tattoos of your own.”

“It’s different y/n.”

“She’s getting older faster than we can keep up with huh?” I lean my head against Gray’s shoulder and let out a big sigh. It feels good, sitting with him here surrounded by friends. It had been a while.

Gray leans his head against mine and doesn’t answer. We watch her friends take pictures like proud parents, watching her cut and then distribute the cake. I should help, but I just could not lift a finger.

“Hey y/n, is that your phone going off?” Josie’s friend beside me points to my facedown phone.

“Is it?” I sit up, my heart doing a number in my chest.

I pick it up, 2 missed calls from Harry and 3 texts. Fuck.

“Leave it,” Gray must be looking over my shoulder. “You’ve gone home now just screw him.”

“I can’t,” I didn’t want Gray getting mad—I know he was kinda drunk and he could make a scene like this. I didn’t want to ruin Josie’s celebration. But I couldn’t ignore this. This is the first time Harry’s messaged me after I’ve gone home. “I’ll take it outside.”

On my way to the door I open the messages. A picture of a bucket filled with ice. A row of question marks. And then: call me

What? What was so urgent about a bucket of-

Oh.

Fuck.

I thought I did everything but I hadn’t. I’d filled the bucket with ice and meant to ask the Italian restaurant around the corner to deliver a bottle like they usually did for Harry but I hadn’t gotten to that part.

I feel like I’m going to vomit any dinner I just had.

I crouch down. Do I call him? Do I pretend I didn’t see this until too late? No. I had to face up. I fucked up.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I call with shaking hands but it rings and rings and goes straight to voicemail. I try again.

I had to get back, get him the champagne. Fix my mistake.

“Y/N,” Grayson’s suddenly outside. “Aren’t you coming back in?”

“I can’t. I…” how do I explain this to my fiancé without it sounding minor as hell. “I forgot to mail some important documents and I need to get back-“

“It’s Saturday fucking night.”

“Yeah but-“

“And guess what?! Tomorrow’s Sunday! The mail’s going nowhere! Fuck that wanker and come back in.”

Gray holds out his arms and I want to go back in but I need to fix this mistake.

I grasp his hand and he smiles, misunderstanding why I held it, “Gray I have to go-“

He pulls his hand away, a sneer on his face. It hurts when he looks at me that way, like I betrayed him.

“I showed up! I celebrated, I got here Gray I just have to-“

“You were barely here! Do you know how upset she was when I said you couldn’t make it?”

“Well why did you say that!?” I demand. “I told you I was only going to be late!”

“I can’t trust that!” He shouts and I try to pull his arm so he quiets but he doesn’t seem to care there are people around. “Your time is all his, every single fucking second! And when you’re not there your brain is going a million bajillion times over about him and his life. Even when you’re with me! What the fuck! What’s up with that!?”

“Gray I’m sorry look I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I swear. I’ll make it up to your sister I-“

“I don’t care y/n,” Gray slips his arm out of my grasp. “Do whatever you want. Nothing I say matters anymore anyway right?”

“Gray,” tears streak my face as I watch the man I love go back inside without another look my way.

Fuck Harry.

I try to call him again but voicemail. Again. Fuck!

What to do when you make a mistake: admit to it—Harry appreciates accountability. FIX IT! As much as you can. FIX YOUR MISTAKES OR FACE CONSEQUENCES.

An alert that my uber was here pings my phone—I take the ride to the restaurant and grab an already chilled bottle. I book it to Harry’s building and ride the elevator up, every floor causing a further dip in my stomach.

The doors open to a dimly lit space. There’s music playing, something jazzy, and it smells like…vanilla? Vanilla roses?

“Hol-hold on,” I hear Harry chuckle. A head pops up from the other side of the sofa.

“Y/n?” He looks as confused as I am.

Oh my god, I realize as a giggle comes from the floor. They were on the fucking floor of the living room? They were on the floor of the living room f…what the fuck did I walk into?

“Just back with this,” I squeak, holding up the bottle.

“Harry did you invite someone else?” The voice asks from below with another laugh. He sighs, disappearing again. I hear a very distinct wet noise before he pops back up again, I look at the doors of the elevator trying even harder not to give in to the panic attack that was looking more and more tempting.

“What are you doing here?” Harry approaches me with a softened voice. Wearing a robe. A silk robe. I knew he wore silk.

“You called—the bottle I’m sorry it totally slipped my mind I-“

“I told you to call me?”

“I did, you didn’t pick up! I thought I should swing by-“

“I thought you had a party?” His forehead scrunches.

“I…” the pieces come together. Did I take this too seriously because Harry didn’t even look angry? Great. I was an idiot and proving to Harry I had no life. “It ended. Early. I…I wanted to fix my mistake and bring the bottle.”

He takes it from my hand, still confused. “Y/N.”

I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. And lord, in this climate with him in just a robe hearing my name on his lips is not okay. I was going to pass out.

“I’ll leave.” I go back to the elevator but he starts talking again.

“I asked you to call me so I could ask-“ he stops when I turn back around to listen. He closes the gap between us again with a sigh, and I don’t realize my face was still streaked with tears. It was probably more noticeable in the elevator light. He takes his finger and swipes across my cheek, his brows furrowing.

“Sorry,” I swipe my cheek to remove the remaining evidence. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Thank you for coming back.”

I nod.

“If you’re going to leave early next time, make sure you finish everything I’ve asked you to do. Don’t skip out like this again.”

“Yes yeah of course,” I stutter, relieved to fit back into our usual roles. For a second there, I thought Harry was going to be kind. And that would have been way worse.

“Good night Y/N. See you Monday.”

“Good night Mr. Styles.”

Gray’s not home by the time I get back. I wake the next morning to his side untouched.

So I do the only thing that felt good these days, I curl up into a ball and cry.

***

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[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 3 (Yandere Sabo X Reader)

CW: vomit is discussed but not described in detail

on Ao3 | Part 1 Part 2

You groggily moved your head from side to side on a soft pillow, moaning quietly. This infirmary bed was way nicer than any you’d been on before, maybe the Marines had finally upgraded them. You felt terrible. No, worse than terrible. Your mouth was dry and your head felt like it was full of cotton. Your stomach was already sore and you felt nauseous. What had happened to you? You thought back to the last thing you remembered. Guard duty, magnifying, Sabo….Sabo. Sabo had…drugged you. And taken you. You had a fleeting feeling of betrayal, which was foolish since Sabo wasn’t loyal to you. Or your friend. Or anything to you, really, except your captor.

You sat up, which set your stomach roiling. You quickly realized you were on a ship, which was bad for two reasons. One, you were being taken to a secondary location. Your chances of being rescued were getting slimmer and slimmer the farther you got from your base. Second, you were highly prone to seasickness. It was another reason you didn’t switch bases often. You had a hard time on the Grand Line, with its famously rough waters. The last time you’d set sail was over three years ago, and it had been at least five days before you could keep anything down. And as if on cue, you felt the urge to throw up. The ship was rocking heavily and it felt like a storm was coming. You were able to stuff the feeling down for now, but you doubted it would stay away for long. You looked around the room for something to throw up into. If you were going to be a captive, you were going to be a gross one. Serves Sabo right for kidnapping you. 

You saw a small trash can near a writing desk, that would have to do. You threw the blankets off of your body, noticing quickly that someone had changed you out of your Marine uniform. You were wearing a dark billowy shirt, socks, and your underwear. Nothing else. Your stomach dropped as you thought of someone changing you while you slept. You hoped it wasn’t Sabo. You scooted to the edge of the bed, putting your legs over the side. You needed to get to that trash can as soon as possible, you were feeling sicker by the second. You put your weight on your feet and stood up. You felt your blood rush quickly to your head, making you dizzy. You put a hand on the mattress to stabilize yourself. You needed to move, now. 

Forcing yourself to walk quickly, you just made it to the trash can before you collapsed to your knees and forcefully vomited. Not much was coming out, but that wasn’t surprising. You’d been asleep for…however long and hadn’t eaten. You were dry heaving, which hurt your stomach even more. Tears streaked down your face from your effort. You hoped you wouldn’t pop the blood vessels in your eyes. The last time you’d been on a ship you’d had red eyes as a result for weeks. You were curled over yourself, one hand holding your stomach protectively, the other holding the garbage can. All of a sudden the door burst open, like there was an emergency.

“Mag? Mag, what are you doing out of bed? I was just -” You knew it was Sabo from the voice, he was speaking to you calmly but you were feeling scared. Scared because you were vulnerable - he was free and among his own crew, he could do anything to you. But you couldn’t hear anything else he said as the ship rocked heavily to the portside and you resumed heaving. You felt an overwarm hand on your back, rubbing it in soothing circles. It felt nice but too familiar for someone who had just kidnapped you. It also made you realize you were freezing and shivering so hard your teeth were chattering.

“Seasick?” Sabo asked, concerned. You nodded. You didn’t have the strength to ask him anything, maybe you’d get answers from him later, but not now. You didn’t know how far you were traveling, but you hoped it would not be too long of a journey.

“I’m going to pick you up now and put you back to bed, OK? I don’t think you can walk right now.” You didn’t think that you could walk either. Your head was spinning, your stomach hurt, and you were disoriented. You also didn’t know why he was bothering to tell you, he could do what he wanted. You were a Marine captive on an RA ship, he could kill you right now and face no repercussions. “Can you nod if that’s OK?” You nodded.

Sabo didn’t waste any time in picking you up, his arms under your knees and supporting your back. Your head rolled back against his chest. You blearily noted the shirt he was wearing - it was the same as yours only in white. When you felt better, you’d care more. Sabo gently deposited you in the bed, tucking you back under the covers. He looked at you closely, worry etched into his face. “Do you need a doctor?” You shook your head as you curled on your side. The boat was still lurching, you felt worse than when you woke up.

“B-buh-ket” you tried to speak but it came out a hoarse whisper. “Bucket,” you said again, straining your voice. Sabo moved quickly and retrieved the garbage can from the desk, putting it right next to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching your every move. It was almost funny, your roles had reversed. Now you were the one being monitored while he was free to come and go. You were glad he hadn’t shackled you, though you wouldn’t have made it out of the room either way. 

“You slept a long time, 18 hours. Between that and the seasickness, you’re dehydrated. I’m going to get you something to drink and some medicine.” Sabo reached out to touch your forehead and you flinched. He frowned but still tested your temperature. “It’ll be OK, Mag, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t ca-call me that.” Sabo had already risen from the bed as you started feeling sick again.You closed your eyes, still on your side, facing away from him. You curled yourself into a smaller ball than you already were. 

“Alright, love.” Sabo closed the door behind him as he left, and you heard the snick of a lock turning.

Sabo POV

Sabo felt bad for you as he watched you lay on his bed, shivering under his blankets. He hadn’t known you were prone to seasickness, but even if he had, the outcome would have been the same. You had to come with him away from the base, back to the RA headquarters. Still, he could have prepared more for such an outcome, he thought as he walked towards the medical supplies. This was one of the smaller RA ships, not even equipped with a real infirmary or medical professional. He hadn’t been planning on taking anyone with him from the base when he’d set out, so he hadn’t prepared for a guest to be on board. 

He needed to get some liquids into you, you did not look well. He was already worried for your health since you’d been losing weight due to stress. Now on top of that, you were sick and may be for a few more days. Sabo was worried, and he was pretty sure he knew the most medical knowledge of everyone on board. He went to the kitchen and rummaged around looking for something light you might be able to eat. He didn’t think you would, but he wanted to offer something in case you did. He found some stale crackers in the back of a cupboard, that would have to do. He filled a pitcher with water and walked back to his room. 

He knew he didn’t have to lock you in the room, there wasn’t anywhere for you to go. Aside from being seasick, you were at sea, it was not like you could escape. It was really for his own peace of mind that he did it. It made him feel more at ease to know that you’d be exactly where he left you. He was also unsure of how his fellow Revolutionaries would treat a Marine if he wasn’t around. Given that he was second in command of the Army, he didn’t think there would be any problems, but he felt better knowing that you couldn’t get out and no one could get in without his knowledge. After all, he had brought you here, he was responsible for you. He didn’t think of you as a captive, he’d just freed you from your prison. Once you saw his point of view, he was sure you’d agree. You were a logical thinking scientist, after all.

Unlocking and opening the door, Sabo noticed you hadn’t moved at all. He came over to your side and sat the pitcher and crackers down on the small bedside table. Your eyes were screwed shut and you were breathing shallowly. Sabo sat next to you on his bed and you didn’t react in any noticeable way. Sabo ran his hand over your shoulder, trying to get you to interact with him.

“I brought some water, I’d like you to take a sip now.” You moaned quietly. “I’m going to elevate you to sitting, just take a few sips then you can lie back down. Can you do that for me?” You nodded, cracking open your eyes. Sabo gently helped you to sit and poured water into a small cup from the carafe. He brought the cup to your mouth before you stopped his hand and took the cup in your own with a glare. He was sure that if you were better he’d be hearing how you could do this yourself. You took a sip and swallowed, grimacing. He wasn’t sure if it hurt you or soothed your throat, but you had to drink either way. “One more now, then a couple more sips in a few minutes.” You took another sip, then handed him back the cup. You looked like you’d expended all your energy with that small task. He set the cup back down and helped you lay back against the pillows. Sabo continued to sit with you while you lay there, covered in sweat with your eyes closed. 

“Thank you,” you rasped, your voice hoarse. 

“How long are you usually seasick?” Sabo was hoping this would subside by the end of the day.

“Three days. Sometimes more.” Sabo fought the urge to curse in front of you. He should have prepared more supplies for an occasion like this. The ship had a stockpile of weapons but only a small amount of coconut water to give you for electrolytes. But he said he’d take care of you and he would. He’d provide you with the best care he could and if he needed to divert the ship to an island or kidnap a physician, he’d do that too. He wanted to scoop you into his arms and cradle you like the treasure you were, but he knew you wouldn’t want that. So he contented himself by monitoring you. After a few minutes ensuring that the water didn’t come back up, he went back over to his writing desk to catch up on paperwork. But his gaze kept returning to your small shivering form on the bed, wishing he could help you more. 

He knew you had some feelings for him, even if you didn't say it. You’d warned him, the Chief of Staff for the Revolutionary Army, that he needed to leave the base to avoid transfer to Impel Down. Once you told him, it had sealed your fate. It proved to him that you deserved more and better than anything those fools could offer you. He had been thinking of taking you with him since the moment you’d met, he knew you couldn’t remain with the Marines. Even if you didn’t acknowledge it, on a subconscious level you knew Sabo wasn’t a threat to you. You’d even stopped him from calling you that atrocious nickname, surely that meant you had some kind of feelings for him. He had originally planned to station you with someone else who could keep you safe - maybe Ivankov, who had a proclivity towards science. But once you’d shown your loyalty to what was right rather than what was expected of you, he knew you needed to stay with him. You’d agree soon.

Your POV

Twelve hours later and you were sure you were dying. Or maybe you just wished you were. You were still sick and the ship was now passing through a heavy storm. The ship was rocking wildly with waves crashing over the deck, causing everything that wasn’t bolted down to roll from side to side in the cabin. The pitcher of water had long since tipped over, leaving you without anything to drink. Not that you’d be able to keep it down anyway. You were able to keep yourself on the bed, but not much else. You felt like you were being flung every which way and you could feel you’d broken the blood vessels in your eyes from repeated vomiting. Every part of you hurt and you were scared - you’d never liked storms even when you were on land. Once you’d eaten your devil fruit, your anxiety around storms had intensified along with your fear of the water. Sabo had come and gone a few times before the brunt of the storm, but there’d been a call for all hands on deck, so he’d left to help. You didn’t blame him but his presence did have a calming effect on you. He was so self assured, so calm, so confident, he made you feel like he knew what to do all the time. You knew he wasn’t a safe person to rely on, but for now you couldn’t help it. You were vulnerable and he was comforting. You’d adjust yourself once you were well again. You just tried to keep yourself in the moment, breathing as deeply as you could and trying to remain calm. 

Eventually, you felt the rocking of the ship abating more and more as the storm passed. You were glad you’d made it through the storm but you hadn’t felt this bad in your memory. You laid there, unable to move, unable to think, unable to do anything. Soon you heard the door open again and a water drenched brown coat entered your field of vision. Sabo’s face came in front of your own, his gloved hand cupping your cheek. You gave no resistance when he moved your head to the side, allowing him to do whatever he wanted. It made you dizzy to watch him, so you closed your eyes again. You were so tired and he’d do what he liked, whether you wanted it or not. Sabo left almost as soon as he came. Maybe he’d decided you were too difficult of a prisoner and he’d return you to the Marines. Or kill you. At this point, you didn’t care. 

Sabo returned a few minutes later, bringing something with him. You opened your eyes to see him setting up an IV drip and tubing. You didn’t like needles and doctors, but were too weak to protest. “You’re too dehydrated to drink. You need intravenous fluids, now.” You tried to talk, maybe to convince him just to let you drink some water instead, but he hushed you. “You’ll feel much better after,  trust me. You’re doing so well, you only need to do a little bit more. You can do that for me, can't you?” You weren’t sure how much trust you had in Sabo as a person, but he seemed to know his way around the tubing. You watched him drowsily, waiting for the time when he’d need to stick you with the needle. He reached for your hand with his own gloved one, and you allowed him to take it. “No need to worry, we’ll get through this,” he said, patting your hand. He tenderly wiped your elbow crook down with alcohol. Maybe it was because you’d worked for so many years in labs, but you found the smell of rubbing alcohol soothing. You closed your eyes as he prepared the needle, you didn’t want to see this part. A few moments later you felt the prick of the needle and opened your eyes to watch Sabo tape it down to your forearm. You could feel the liquid entering as Sabo gently held your arm and inspected his work.

“Thank you, Sabo.” You could at least thank him for the IV. You weren’t sure how many prisoners got such treatment at the hands of their captors. His eyes flicked to yours.

“I’m sorry I let it get to this point. I was needed on the deck because of the storm, otherwise I wouldn’t have left you. Rest assured, I’ll be with you from now until you get better.” You weren’t sure how that made you feel. On one hand you were happy there was someone who could help you. The times you’d been seasick on Marine vessels, they’d basically dumped you in the infirmary, where nurses checked on you only once every 12 hours. Other than that, you’d been miserable and on your own. On the other hand, you didn’t want Sabo with you. He’d taken you and you weren’t sure why. You didn't know where you stood with him and what he wanted from you. Maybe you’d find out soon, after a short nap. Your eyes slid closed as Sabo stroked your hand.

~~~

You awoke a short while later, shivering with cold. You weren’t sure why, the room wasn’t cold and you had blankets. Still, you were shaking like a little wet dog. You were still hooked up the IV, so you couldn’t move around too much otherwise it would need to be redone. Looking around, Sabo was sitting at the little desk, writing what looked like a letter. You watched him for a moment as he concentrated. He was serious at that moment, so different from the Sabo you’d met in the jail cell. You wondered which was the real Sabo, the polite and charming one you’d gotten to know, or the serious Revolutionary who killed, maimed, and commanded hundreds of troops. As if he could sense your thoughts about him, he looked at you and smiled, holding his quill in his hand.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Cold,” you said in a scratchy voice. Sabo’s smile dropped. “More blankets?” you asked. You didn’t want to overexert your voice, you weren’t sure it would last.

“More blankets? I’m not sure, this boat isn’t equipped with much.” He put his quill down on the table and turned his body towards you. “I’m going to suggest something unconventional. You can say no, there is absolutely no pressure. You’ve been cold for hours, but I thought the fluids would help with your temperature regulation. I’d like to lay next to you and warm you up.” You stiffened at his words, you weren’t expecting that. His suggestion made you nervous, what else would he want? You were about to refuse when he continued. “We’ll both keep all our clothes on, and I’ll stay over the blanket. It’s the most efficient way to heat you.” You bit your lip. The offer had appeal, he could warm you effectively using his devil fruit power. Besides, if he had wanted to do something nefarious, he could have done it at any time already. You looked at his face, his open expression showing his sincerity.

“Ok,” you said, nodding once. Sabo stood from the chair and came over to you by the bed.

“I’m going to lay on your left side so it doesn’t interfere with the IV tubing.” You turned on your side and Sabo got on the bed next to you. True to his word, he didn’t take off any clothes or go under the blankets. You could feel the heat being thrown off his body, he was like a small furnace. You couldn’t resist, you immediately curled into his body. You felt emotionally awkward but it felt physically incredible. Laying next to Sabo was like laying next to an all body heating pad. You finally felt relief from the cold, you were so happy you could have cried. He took one of his muscled arms and put it around your shoulders. It was almost…romantic. 

“Feel warmer?” he asked. You could have purred at that moment.

“Yeah,” was all you could muster to say. You changed position so more of you was laying on top of him. You wanted as much of his heat as you could get without being inappropriate. You ended up with your head on his chest, warming your face as you listened to his heartbeat. Sabo didn’t talk to you, just let you relax. You drifted off into sleep, finally feeling a little better.

Sabo POV

He hadn’t planned for such an outcome, but Sabo knew how to take an opportunity when it was presented to him. You really had needed to warm up and this was the fastest way. It was also something Sabo had daydreamed about for weeks now, but that was neither here nor there. You were resting with your head on his chest, finally sleeping peacefully. Not only that, you were wearing his shirt. Sabo knew he had a possessive streak in him, and he loved seeing you in his clothing. He hadn’t been the one to change you, that was Koala. Even so, he liked thinking of you wearing his clothes, in his bed, sleeping next to him. He was tired too, and he allowed himself to doze off, pretending this was more than just a medically induced happenstance.

~~~

The next morning, Sabo awoke still fully clothed and in his bed. You were stirring next to him, waking as well. He had given you another IV bag during the night, but supplies were running low. The sea was calm right now, Sabo hoped it would be enough to stop your seasickness. You blinked your eyes awake, taking a few moments to register what was happening. You looked down at your arm and saw the IV tubing still there. You yawned loudly and stretched, which made Sabo chuckle.

“I feel better.” You looked objectively better, your eyes no longer sunken in and your skin wasn’t blotchy like it had been. You hadn’t moved from your position, you were still laying your head on top of Sabo’s chest. He wondered if you noticed.

“I’m glad to hear it. We don’t have much longer to sail, this portion of the trip is nearly done.” The ship would arrive at the destination by the end of the next day, he just hoped you could make it through.

“Portion? Where are we going?” you said, furrowing your brow.

“I can’t tell you, I’m sorry.” Sabo didn’t think you’d try to escape or compromise their location, but the safety of the Revolutionary Army bases were top priority.

“You know, no one is coming to rescue me,” you said with a bitter tone. Sabo hummed. He wasn’t so sure. You were a key asset, someone who had been providing critical information to the World Government at a rapid pace. He knew about your scheduled meeting with Sakazuki, those weren’t given to just anyone. “I’m not worth any ransom or bounty, if that’s what you’re after.” You valued yourself very little, something Sabo didn’t like. He’d help you see how invaluable you were, and not just for your devil fruit.

“I’m not after money.” 

“Then what are you after? Why did you…take me?” You seemed to have remembered your position laying on him and adjusted yourself, to Sabo’s disappointment. You sat yourself up and Sabo did as well. “Do you need a scientist? I can um, research whatever it is you need. I’m pretty good, you know that. We could make a deal? If I complete your project for you, will you let me go? ” Sabo noticed your hands shaking but you looked hopeful, like you’d discovered a new solution to your problem.

“No.” 

“N-no?” you faltered in the face of Sabo’s decisive answer.

“No. There’s no deal you can make with me that will get me to give you back to the Marines. You aren’t going back. Ever. You’re staying with me.” 

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 2

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, verbal arguing, swearing, medical misinformation (I did my best y'all), pregnancy

Sharp Memorial Hospital, 12 Years Ago

“Buttercup!”

She gasped as the curtain to her room was drawn back quickly, revealing a stressed-out looking lieutenant and a sheepish looking older brother.

“Jake! I’m okay, I swear…”

“You passed out!” Jake exclaimed, rounding the hospital bed to stand by her side. “And they called Bob?”

She sighed, her fingers tapping anxiously at the tape securing the IV to her arm. “I’ve been here for, like, four months, babe. And it all happened kinda quickly, so I haven’t exactly had a chance to change my emergency contact yet.”

Jake reached out to grip her hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Do me a favour and at least add me to that list? I almost had a fucking heart attack when I landed, and Bob told me that you were in the damn hospital.”

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose as she turned her attention to him. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered. “Are you okay, Buttercup?”

She grinned at the begrudging use of the nickname. Ever since Jake had bestowed it upon her that night, it was like her real name ceased to exist. Everyone called her Buttercup, despite Bob’s best efforts.

“I’m fine, you two worrywarts,” she rolled her eyes fondly as Bob scoffed and Jake squeezed her hand more firmly. “I got a little lightheaded at the bar and turned a little too quickly on my barstool. I was only out for like a second, but Penny wouldn’t let it go. Something about Mav being overprotective of his squad or something. She’s somewhere out there—” she motioned vaguely out the curtained doorway. “—filling out paperwork.”

“What were you doing at the bar?” Jake seated himself on the edge of her bed, green eyes turning stern. “You promised me that you were going to take it easy today, remember? I didn’t drag your ass to the doctor yesterday because you said you were “almost over this stupid flu”, and I only agreed because you promised you’d do jack shit today.”

Buttercup pouted at him, crossing her arms as best she could with one arm hosting the IV and Jake not releasing her hand. “I got bored,” she mumbled. “Plus, I thought the quick walk in the sun and fresh air would do me good!”

Jake groaned. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear to god. Next time, at least call someone to go with you.”

“Sure, Jake. I’m sure the Navy will understand you needing to take your girlfriend on a walk,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Clearly,” Jake shot back, gesturing around the curtained-off room.

“Alright, easy, you two,” Bob sighed, stepping further into the room. “Seresin, you can’t expect her to wait around for us to do stuff. What do you expect her to do when we get deployed?” Jake’s face fell for a split second before smoothing out into that unflappable mask he had mastered long ago. “And kiddo? Bagman might not show it ever, but he is a human being, which means he can be scared, and I’m pretty sure the news that you landed yourself here scared a decade off him. So, go easy on him, will you?”

She looked at her brother for a moment before sighing, nodding slightly, and turning back to Jake. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be more careful.”

He squeezed it back, lifting their linked hands to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m sorry too. I’m not tryin’ to be controlling, I just…I don’t wanna see you hurt.”

Bob huffed and took a step back. “I’m going to go find Penny and see if she needs help with that paperwork.”

“Thanks Bobby,” she smiled softly at him. He winked playfully at her before turning his back and strolling out of the room, tugging the curtain closed behind him.

“What has the doctor said?” Jake brushed his hand over her cheek, tugging her attention back to him. “Any more dizzy spells? Do you need anything?”

“Easy, tiger, one question at a time. The doctor said I was pretty dehydrated from all the vomiting I’ve done over the past couple of days, and that was what probably caused the blackout. But he had a nurse draw some blood and they’re testing to see if it could be anything else.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “I’m a little dizzy still, but the fluids are helping. And I’m still pretty nauseated but they don’t want to give me anything until they get the test results back.” Jake nodded, his jaw ticking just once as his eyes raked over her face. “I’m okay, Jake. I promise.”

Buttercup kept up the soft pressure of her hand running up and down his arm until the mask he wore slipped and he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry I was a dick. I just want you to feel better.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry I got snippy.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to apologize. You’re the one in the hospital bed.” His thumb gently rubbed back and forth along the back of her hand. “God, I hate fighting with you though.”

A slow grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Me too. Especially when I’m stuck in this bed and we can’t make up properly.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he leaned in closer. “Don’t tempt me.”

Peals of laughter tumbled from her lips as she angled her head to brush her nose against his. “I don’t suppose a kiss would tide you over, Lieutenant Insatiable?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, darlin’. We’d have to try it out.”

Jake’s lips chased hers as he leaned over her, pushing her back against the flimsy mattress with the force of his kiss. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth, and she felt a bolt of electricity spark through her body when his mouth stretched into a smile against hers. He linked their fingers together as she deepened the kiss, his free hand coming around to cradle the back of her neck.

“Alright, Miss Floyd, why don’t we go over those test results?”

Jake pulled away as a doctor clad in purple scrubs hustled into the room, her hands rubbing together as the scent of sanitizer wafted over them.

“Hey, doctor. Sorry, we didn’t meet earlier. Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” Jake greeted, his mask sliding back into place as he stretched one arm out to shake her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. And it’s nice to meet you as well, Miss Floyd. I’m Dr. Friedman and I’ll be taking over your case,” the woman greeted, shaking his hand before turning to fiddle with some equipment. “I hope you don’t mind; we just have a few more tests to run.”

“N-no, that’s fine…” Buttercup shrugged uneasily. “Did something happen to Dr. Scott? I thought he was the one handling my case today?”

“Dr. Scott is just fine. He got called into an all hands on deck situation and, since I was already working with a regular patient of mine down here in the ED, he passed your case off to me since it falls under my specialty. Do you mind lifting your gown for me, dear?”

As the doctor turned, Jake’s keen green eyes darted between three different things. One, the ultrasound wand in the doctor’s hand. Two, the medieval looking metal device she had placed next to his girlfriend on her bed. And three, the neat white stitching on the breast of her scrubs that read Dr. Laurie Friedman, Doctor of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

“Dr. Friedman?” Jake felt his heart sputter, then race in his chest as he squeezed Buttercup’s hand. “You’re a…I mean, your specialty…” He looked down at Buttercup, but she was staring at the white stitching as well.

“Yes, Lieutenant. As I’m sure Dr. Scott told you, Miss Floyd’s blood and urine tests came back positive for hcG, so he called for an OB consult. Since I was already here, I figured I would pop in and run the tests for him while he’s dealing with the overflow of patients we just received. This will be a little cold, dear,” the doctor soothed, draping a paper towel over Buttercup’s underwear before squeezing the gel onto her stomach. “Now, if the blood and urine tests aren’t lying to us, we should…” She moved the wand around, either obtuse to or completely ignoring the look on her patient’s (and the lieutenant’s) face. “There!”

She turned the screen to face the young couple. “Your blood test confirmed the pregnancy, but the high levels of hcG in your blood gave Dr. Scott pause. There’s baby number one…” she pointed to a tiny speck on the screen. “And there…is baby number two.”

The first week of living in the isolation cabin (affectionately known as ‘The Brig’) was absolute misery. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the water in the lake was cool and clear, and Abby and Charlie could appreciate none of it, stuck as they were doing clean up chores in the kitchen. Amelia had been assigned to supervision duty, which was mostly making sure the girls did less arguing and more cleaning.

The nights were even worse, with the girls either ignoring each other or screaming the cabin down with insults and taunts. Amelia had also spent that first week sleeping on the small stoop of the cabin in a hammock, or, at least, trying to sleep between arguments.

The only reprieve the girls got was when they headed down to the dining hall and got to sit with their friends. Breakfast, lunch and dinner found Charlie loudly complaining to her friend, Ryann, about how unfair the whole situation was, while Abby sat with Max, and Isabelle clear across the dining hall, her friends doing their best to remind her to stay strong, that she was only barred from group activities for another week, that they would try to sneak her back into their cabin in a few weeks when Penny and Amelia had cooled off a bit. Amelia spent mealtimes hiding in her mother’s office, downing headache medication, and trying to talk her mother out of whatever plan she had concocted.

The second week found the girls at an uneasy truce. Chores duty was quiet, but all the work got done. Evenings were dead silent, the girls opting to ignore each other instead of arguing.

Both girls were excited to go back to group activities on Monday, only to open the cabin door that morning to find dark clouds covering the sun, booming thunder in the distance, and rain falling in ice cold sheets.

“I suppose group activities will be cancelled today,” Abby muttered as she turned to grab her raincoat.

“You think Penny and Amelia will let us join our cabins for rainy day activities?” Charlie grumbled as she surveyed the mucky landscape. “Hell, I’d be okay doing outdoor activities in this! I thought this was supposed to show us what our family members go through in the military? I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t cancel a war because of a little rain.”

Abby giggled in spite of herself. “If they did that, there would never have been any wars in England. It’s always raining there.”

“Eww. That must suck.”

“It really does.”

The two girls locked eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.

“She’s still stuck up! You don’t want to be friends with her!” Charlie thought to herself, pulling on her own raincoat.

“She’s rude and uncouth. Anyone worth being friends with would never say such horrible things. Or try to get into a physical fight with you!” Abby breathed as she held the door open for a drenched Amelia.

“Sorry girls, but you’re not going down to the dining hall today. It’s all flooded, so all campers will be eating in their cabins,” Amelia explained quickly, handing them bottles of juice and a tray of fruit and sandwiches. “I’ve gotta get back to keep an eye on everyone. Please, please promise me you’ll get along today? I’ll be back later with lunch and dinner, and I really don’t want to have to clean up any bloodshed.”

“We promise…”

“Thank you!”

The door swung shut behind her as Amelia took off up the path back to the main camp.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna have my breakfast over here while I read,” Charlie murmured, awkwardly making eye contact before shuffling away to her bed on one side of the room.

Abby nodded, taking her own breakfast over to her bed and staring out the window before pulling out her scrap book.

Amelia popped back in a few hours later, carrying more sandwiches for lunch, surprise colouring her features at the lack of arguing and tension between the campers.

“You two are handling this better than some of the other kids,” she commented, placing the tray down. “I’ll be back around six with dinner, okay?”

Without stopping to hear their response, she turned and dashed back out the door, just as a gust of wind blew the door wide open, sending everything that wasn’t pinned down in the room flying.

“Crap!” Charlie slammed her book shut quickly as the pages started to rustle. Abby squealed as the pictures in the collage she was working on were strewn about wildly, dancing in the wind.

“Help me with the door!” Charlie cried, bolting over to the creaking wooden door and trying to heave it shut. Her fingernails scrabbled against the wood as she tried to get a good grip on the handle as the door strained against her grip, pulling her this way and that.

“Hold on, I’ve got you!” Abby seized the door handle and they leaned all their weight against the door, sighing in relief as they finally heard the faint click as it shut.

“Th-thanks…” Charlie panted, her arms trembling slightly.

“No…no problem,” Abby sagged against the wall. “You looked like you almost had it though. You’re pretty strong.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work on my dad’s ranch. Obviously, I can’t do a lot of the dangerous jobs, but even the easy stuff takes a lot of strength.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Abby offered, sinking to the floor against the wall. “Does your mum help on the ranch too?”

Charlie looked away as she sank to the floor across from her, feeling the anger rise and then fall inside of her, her body too tired to let it take hold. “No…she doesn’t. I…I don’t know who my mom is. It’s just me, my dad, and my uncles,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry,” Abby felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I didn’t know. But…it’s okay! My mum always says that every family looks different, and it doesn’t affect how much they love each other.”

“Easy for her to say,” Charlie muttered, looping her arms around her legs, and resting her head against her knees.

Abby bit back an angry retort. She was so tired of fighting, mentally exhausted from the constant sparring with her new roommate. Maybe her mum had been right and fighting back wasn’t the way to go.

“She started saying that to me when I was five years old or so. At least, that’s when I think I started asking about my dad. I…I don’t know who he is either.”

Charlie lifted her head, looking at the girl in front of her. “You don’t?”

Abby shook her head. “For as long as I can remember, it’s been me, my mom, my aunt, and my uncle. But not, like, married aunt and uncle. He’s my mom’s brother, and my aunt is his best friend.”

“Oh…” Charlie looked down, biting her lip. “I guess that means my comment about mommy and daddy buying you riding lessons really sucked, huh?”

“It did. But I shouldn’t have called you a cornfed hick, either.” Abby flushed. “I don’t know why I said that. My mom and uncle are from Kansas, so it’s not like they’re from anywhere fancy.”

“Kansas? Then why do you sound so…Downton Abbey?”

Abby giggled. “My mum moved to London when I was just a baby. She says it was just for a job, but I think she wanted to get away from my dad too. Every time I ask about him, she gets really anxious and sad, my Uncle Bob gets really angry, and my Aunt Natasha has to distract everyone. Eventually, I just stopped asking. But she did promise to talk about him when I get home, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for answers.”

“My dad does the same thing!” Charlie gasped, moving closer. “I ask about my mom and he gets this really sad look in his eyes, then goes into his office for a few hours! Uncle Roo will eventually go drag him out but then we just pretend I never asked. Uncle Javy acts like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to hurt my dad, so he just tells me that all my questions will be answered when I get older.”

“I hate that!” Abby shot onto her knees. “I’m almost 12! How much older do they expect me to get?”

“Right?” Charlie copied her kneeling stance. “I swear, if I don’t get answers on October 11th, I’m going to scream!”

Abby fell back on her heels, almost as though the door had been wrenched open again and she’d been blown back by a gust of wind. “Y-your birthday is October 11th?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“So is mine!”

Charlie blinked at her. Then she blinked again. Then, a third time. “I…am going to go back to reading my book.”

Abby’s shoulders rose with the force of her sigh. “Charlie, why do you keep avoiding this? We look completely alike, we have the same birthday, you have a dad, and I have a mom! Do you know what that all adds up to?”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Charlie replied huffily, picking up her book and leafing through the pages to find where she left off.

“Charlie, come on! You can’t actually believe that!”

Abby waited for a response, but all she got was Charlie raising her book to eye level in order to block her from view.

“Charlie? Please, you know there’s more to it than that!”

Charlie rolled over to face the other direction and Abby felt the anger bolt through her at ten thousand volts.

“Stop. Ignoring. Me!” she stomped around to the other side of Charlie’s bed and wrenched the book away from her.

“Hey! Give me that!” Charlie jumped out of bed as Abby ran over to her side of the cabin.

“No! Not until we figure this out!”

“Figure what out?” Charlie groaned. “We don’t look that much alike, single parent households aren’t that rare, and there are like a billion people on this planet, so obviously some are going to share a birthday!”

“Oh, come on! It’s way more than that!”

Charlie stomped over towards her and shook her head, her blond braid whipping around her face. “No. It’s not. Now give me back my book or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Abby hopped onto her bed and held the book high in the air.

“I’ll…” Charlie lunged and grabbed Abby’s scrapbook from where it had fallen on the floor. “I’ll hold this hostage until you give it back!”

“No!” Abby gasped. “Please, no! That’s important to me!”

Charlie shrugged. “And my book is important to me. I need something to read, so I guess I’ll just have to make do with this.”

Charlie retreated back onto her side of the cabin and flipped the book open to the first page.

“Fine! Here, take it!” Abby yelled, jumping off the bed and racing over to hand her the book. “Just please, give it back!”

Charlie’s hand shook as she pushed her novel off the scrapbook and onto the bed, her fingers tracing the outline of the figures that were smiling from the picture that decorated the first page.

“Charlie?” Abby asked, half desperate to get her scrapbook back and half confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you have a picture of my uncles in your scrapbook?” she whispered.

“What? That’s a picture of my mum, Auntie Nat, and Uncle Bob,” Abby explained, pointing to each person in turn.

“Not them…” Charlie spoke softly, as though even one decibel too loud would shatter her. “Them.” Charlie pointed at two of the figures on the fringe of the photo. One, a moustachioed man in a pair of aviators, and the other a tall black man with a bright smile and an “I Love Las Vegas” baseball cap covering his cropped black hair. “That’s my Uncle Rooster and my Uncle Javy.”

“What?”

Charlie handed the book back before scrambling to her backpack, digging inside to pull out a folder. “This is my favourite picture of my dad and my uncles. My dad doesn’t know I have it though. I found it when I was fooling around with Uncle Javy, and he gave it to me. He made me promise never to tell my dad that I even knew it existed. I…I think it’s from my dad’s wedding to my mom. Uncle Javy made it seem that way, anyway.”

Charlie opened the folder and pulled out her photo. “That’s my dad, and see? There’s Uncle Roo and Uncle Javy.”

Abby’s shaky finger traced over two other figures who had their arms around each other on the other side of ‘Uncle Roo’. “That’s my Uncle Bob and my Aunt Natasha. Auntie Nat gave me my photo a few years ago when I asked about her about Dagger Squad. But she told me not to tell my mom or my uncle about it. She said that they would be upset.”

“There were taken on the same day,” Charlie murmured, her eyes raking over the photo. “See? The lights in the background, the clothes, the people? They’re all the same.”

“You know what this means, right?” Abby whispered, her finger now tracing over Charlie’s photo, her focus solely on the man in the middle, the man that Charlie had called Dad.

“Abby, it can’t…I don’t…” Charlie swallowed painfully.

“Charlie…I think your dad…was married to my mum.”

A door slamming behind them sent a jolt down both their spines and they spun on the bed to face the intruder.

Amelia set the tray of food down and wiped the water off her face with a sigh. “It’s about time you two figured it out.”

Tags List: @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @waltermis @buckysteveloki-me @allepaula @yuckosworld @seresinsbrat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @kim-stark @cierra715 @high-speed-r @helpmepleasethanks @starsrfun @tomanyfandomstrash @averyhotchner @the-blueatlas @princessliz86 @dashes-dizzydisaster @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boiolay @djs8891 @torimcc @tgmreader @kmc1989 @landpiranha-blog @sydthekid1518 @lynnevanss @hello7442 @mackenzieblair @minejungwoo @starset21 @ssa-sadboi @tgmavericklover @dempy @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @lovemarvelousfics, @starkleila, @magical-spit, @whatislovevavy, @simplyreading96, @vivalas-vega, @itsdesiree86, @inky-sun, @books-are-escapes

[doumadono]

Hii!! I wanna send an emergency request and I'm sorry if it's too much or anything but a week ago it was my birthday and the exact same day my grandma passed away. My grandma is one of the people dearest and close to me so losing her,especially on my birthday, It hurts alot. My birthday wasn't happy that day, usually my grandma would bake me a cake and my favorite foods that would always bring me joy and now it's gone, she's gone and I can't do anything about it but accept. I was wondering if you could do Katsuki comforting gn!reader? I really appreciate if you do. 💕

"Lean on me" - Bakugo x gn!Reader

A/N: I’m so so sorry for your loss. Your grandma sounds like an incredible person who brought so much joy to your life. It’s okay to grieve and miss her deeply. Hold on to those cherished memories and allow yourself to feel all the emotions

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the dorm room in a gentle twilight. The only sound was the soft rustling of pages turning as you sat curled up on the sofa, trying to distract yourself with a book. Yet, the words blurred together, your mind too occupied with the heavy weight of grief to focus.

Your birthday had always been a day of joy, a day filled with laughter, homemade cakes, and your grandma's warm embrace. But this year, the day had taken a cruel turn. The news of her passing still echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the irreplaceable loss you had suffered.

A gentle knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and Katsuki Bakugo, your classmate, walked in. "Hey, nerd," he said, his voice gruff yet unusually gentle. "Mind if I join you?"

You nodded, managing a small, grateful smile as he settled beside you.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

"I know today was supposed to be different," Katsuki began, his voice low and steady. "And I know it hurts like hell. Losing someone you love, especially like this... It's not something you just get over, goddammit."

You glanced up at him, surprised by the depth of understanding in his words.

Katsuki had always been tough, sometimes even abrasive, but in this moment, he was showing a side of himself you rarely saw.

"I don't have any magic words to make it better," he continued, his eyes meeting yours. "But I can tell you this - it's okay to feel like crap. It's okay to miss her, to cry, to be angry. You're allowed to feel everything you're feeling."

A tear rolled down your cheek, and Katsuki reached out, brushing it away with surprising gentleness. "She loved you. And she wouldn't want you to be alone right now."

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat, and more tears streamed down your flushed cheeks.

"Remember the good times," your friend said softly. "The way she smiled, the way she made you laugh. Keep those memories close. They don't replace her, but they can help you carry on."

His words were like a balm to your aching heart. You leaned into him, finding solace in his warmth and strength while you choked yourself on your own tears. "It's not fair!"

Katsuki wrapped an arm around you, holding you close as you let the tears flow freely. "I know, Y/N. But I'm here for you," he murmured. "Not just today, but every goddamn day. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. Just tell me, yeah?"

For a while, you simply sat there, finding comfort in Katsuki's steady presence. The pain of your loss was still there, a deep, aching void, but his support made it a little more bearable.

Eventually, the tears subsided, leaving you feeling exhausted but a little lighter. You looked up at Katsuki, offering him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks," you whispered. "I just hope I'll be able to... You know... To go through this."

"You're strong, and you'll get through this, no doubt here. And I'll be right here with you, little nerd. And you can always lean on me."

[ciaomarie]

Part 6: What Then?

It's over kids! The longest and final chapter is done. Chris Storer & Co. are probably going to put our beloveds through it in S3, but until then let's enjoy our low-key angst and romance. Post Season 2, Canon-Compliant, swoony, girly, fluffy. A happy-ending obviously.

After 10 years of grinding himself into dust Carm’s body began to surrender. About a month after The Bear’s opening, he came down with a cold that turned into a low-grade fever, a bitter cough with lime green mucus, night sweats, and mind-numbing exhaustion. After two days Sydney and Fak showed up to his apartment and dragged him to the emergency room. It was pneumonia and dehydration. The young male doctor muttered that his lungs sounded just like his father’s, a 40-year smoker. Yes, pneumonia was the primary reason, but a man Carmy’s age should be in better shape. He was out of commission for a whole week. The regret of letting down The Bear crew so soon after the Friends and Family fiasco motivated him to make a couple changes. First, he allowed himself only one emergency cigarette a day, which he needed less and less. Second, he went outside on Mondays, when the restaurant was closed. If the temperature was over 30℉, he took the train or walked to a park. His favorites were Humboldt and the Garfield Park Conservatory. Today he had come to the latter with his sketchbook and pencils in his backpack. Since the renovation he had continued drawing.

As he went towards to his favorite bench, he noticed a slender woman walking ahead of him. Her height, long swishing braids and jacket were identical to Syd’s. He compulsively began jogging towards her. Before he could call out her name, the woman pounced on a tall lanky man in front of her, wrapping her arms around his waist. Carmen had the sensation of being pushed off a diving board unexpectedly, his stomach pitching forward, unable to breathe much less scream before slamming into the water like a brick. The man turned and picked up Sydney up, planting a kiss on her mouth. He spun her around and…she wasn’t Syd. Thank God.

Carm made his way to the bench and hunched over, his head in his hands. She wasn’t Syd he recanted over and over until the feeling of relief gave way to self-reproach. This time it wasn’t her, but one day it would be. Would he be able to live with that? Uncle Jimmy’s warning not to be an overthinking manichino flashed in his mind. It was time to do something. He took out his sketchpad and began thumbing through it, an idea beginning to take shape. Hopefully, it wouldn’t scare Syd away.

The following Monday Sydney was in her cousin’s salon getting her entire life. Her microbraids were taken out, her hair was washed, deep conditioned, her scalp massaged, and now she was getting box braids put in. They were accented with delicate gold hair cuffs. She drowsed in the chair, with an almost empty to-go container of jollof rice in her lap, as her cousin and another hair stylist quietly discussed the latest season of Love is Blind.

“Sydney babe, would you ever go on Love is Blind?” her cousin, Ashley, asked in a louder tone.

Syd startled and rubbed her eyes.

“Never. That’s insane.”

“I got a message on IG that it’s coming to Chicago. You live and breathe your job so when are you going to meet somebody? Maybe your soulmate is in one of those pods!”

“Why don’t you apply then? You could find “love” and get more exposure for the salon.”

“Same for you and your restaurant ma’am, but I have a man.”

“Since when?”

“Since three months ago. His name is David, he’s a chemical engineer and the son of you know, Ms. Jumoke, she goes to the African church on Mackinaw…St. Paul.”

“Yeah, I remember her. Her sister used to watch me when my dad worked nights.”

“Anyways, back to you. Are you dating anyone, or should I send you the show application?”

“I don’t think love is blind. Have you seen the people they cast? Nobody too unfortunate-looking gets on. It’s so shallow.”

 “Ha! You’re one to talk. You have a very distinct type…white boys with tats and muscles.”

“Ashley, there’s been two of them. Like, that’s not a pattern.”

“No, three! This boss, no “partner”, of yours, had Sydney written over him. The family never sees you anymore.”

“I came to lunch at uncle and auntie’s last month! Besides, opening a new business is like having a kid. You know this.”

“Sure, but when I had dinner at your restaurant and you introduced us, he complimented you for five minutes and then followed you to the kitchen like a whipped puppy.”

Sydney grinned biting her lower lip and covered her eyes. Her cousin stopped braiding and hugged her.

“Aww…my baby cousin is finally going to get some!”

“ASHLEY!” Sydney groaned pushing off her cousin’s arms.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop, but I am happy for you. He is sexy. That neck is thicker than a tree stump.”

Sydney who had just taken a sip of her sweet tea, spat it out all over the mirror.

“That’s on you, Ashley!” she choked out between laughing and coughing.

When she was able to contain herself, she tried to reel her cousin back in. Talking about romantic potential with Carmy gave her too much pleasure. If he was content with the status quo she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

“Nothing really is going on. We’re business partners and we’re pretty good friends and it’s probably best we keep it that way.”

“Yes, and he gave you an equal share in the restaurant out of the friendly kindness of his heart.”

“You know, I think he would do that, because I’ve put in so much work, but it did feel like it was something more, at least his Uncle Cicero or Jimmy seemed to think so.”

“Girl, watch out. His sister and an uncle like you!? Would you take his last name, hyphenate, or keep Adamu?”

“Ugh, I’m not going there with you! Shouldn’t you be done with my hair by now?”

“If you want it done right it’ll be 2 more hours. If you don’t…30 minutes?”

“Fine, take your time but please let me sleep.”

Sydney closed her eyes, admiring her self-control. She hadn’t told Ashley that Carmy asked her to come by The Bear this evening. He was reworking a few old dishes. The invite was made at the end of the night a few days ago while they were turning off the lights. She said yes as they pulled down the last switch and she couldn’t see his expression, but she heard him exhale loudly as if he feared she’d decline. Sometimes they meet up on Mondays to network with vendors or collaborate on menu ideas, so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. However, she intuited he was hiding something again like when he and Nat surprised her with a share in the restaurant. This time she didn’t pester him for details, knowing that it was probably worth waiting for.

When Syd arrived home at 3:00 pm she could’ve folded laundry and watched an episode of Psych, but she decided to pretend this was a date; well, like she was preparing for a date. It was a long time since her last. She had entered the Convent of Failed Dreams after Sheridan. Then The Beef/The Bear became her world. The light blue cuffed jeans and stripped white and mint green button-down shirt she was wearing was more than appropriate for a food brainstorming session. However, Carmy’s mysterious attitude might be concealing more great news. She might as well look good when and if he had some.

She took a luxuriously long shower, shaved, and rubbed in her mandarin-scented body oil. Then she entered slowly sifted through her closet considering a red jumpsuit, or just nicer jeans and a blouse when her eyes fell on her marigold-colored shirt dress. It was knee length, comfortable, but chic and the color made her complexion pop. She paired it with a brown and gold oval buckle belt and brown flats because she might be standing in the kitchen for hours. After a short struggle she decided to keep the top two buttons of her shirt dress open. It was only a collar bone, not cleavage. Then she considered makeup. She hated wearing a lot of it; her skin felt suffocated with foundation. She did her brows, applied mascara, a little mineral powder, a smidge of highlighter on her cheekbones, and finished with the Fenty “Hot Choclit” gloss bomb her cousin had given her as part of a set for Christmas. Her new braids with the gold cuffs made the look even better and Sydney couldn’t help admiring herself more than usual in her floor-length mirror. She felt so delicious that she ordered an Uber rather than sit on the train. She would take it later or maybe Carm would give her a ride home.

Just before she could lock the door Emmanuel came up the stairwell, his face lighting up.

“My baby girl, you are stunning! Where are you headed?”

“Thanks, daddy. I’m just going to the restaurant. Felt like dressing up for once.”

“So, is it a staff meeting?”

“No, just working on some recipes. I gotta go. My Uber’s waiting.”

Emmanuel leaned against the door and nodded with a sly smile.

“Oh okay, I see. Tell Carmen I said hello. Have fun!”

Sydney’s eyes widened and she ran down the stairs waving goodbye. Her voice couldn’t be trusted.

When the car arrived at the restaurant, the sky was overcast, the evening darker than usual for the time of year. She let herself in and observed the layout. The lights were low, and the back center booth was set for dinner, with a single table candlelit. She could see Carmy in the kitchen already sautéing something. She was headed towards him when he looked up, seeing her through the window and rushed to meet her in the front.

“Syd don’t-” he began before he was immobilized by the vision before him.

Sydney was similarly taken with him and marveled at how often they were of the same mind. Carm was wearing a crisp button-down blue shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the shirt tucked into dark navy pants, and he had gotten a haircut. Somehow it made his eyes stand out more. The sides were moderately tapered, his hair on top remained almost as long as before, and one of his rogue curls was damp against his forehead. He was perspiring, apparently having been cooking for a while.

“Nice haircut”, “You look amazing” they began at the same time and laughed nervously.

Carmy started again, beating his trusty spoon against his palm.

“So, the food is almost done. Just have a seat over there and I’ll be right out.”

Sydney nodded, a little confused and excited for this change of plans. She sat in the booth and noticed the speakers were playing The Teskey Brothers’ “Take My Heart.” She leaned back and closed her eyes letting the lyrics wash over her, her emotions stirring with that sweet ache.

“Take the time to notice what you really need, 

You’ll find it’s a little more simple, than what you thought before,

But I can say for certain that I’ve got more than I ever had before,

By remembering the little things that make my heart warm.

So take my heart and cut it into two,

After all the only thing missing from me was you,

You’re all I want, you’re all I need, you’re the air I breathe,

Cause after all the only thing missing from me was you.”

“Hey, are you good?” Carmy asked  approaching the booth with their plates.

Sydney sat up and cleared her throat.

“Yes, I’m good. I really like that song. Reminds me of-“

 “Otis Redding?”

“Yeah.”

Carm carefully placed the plates on the table.

“Well, speaking of throwbacks, I made-”

“Pork confit with onions and rhubarb!”

 “Yes, and after we’ll have Milk and Honey.

Sydney bit the inside of her mouth trying to absorb what seemed to be happening.  Carm muttered something about getting their drinks and went to the bar for their club sodas. Sydney remained mute, not knowing if she should ask him what this meant now or let it play out. “Don’t get ahead of yourself”, she admonished her heart.

He returned to the booth with their drinks and encouraged her to start, rubbing his chin as she put the first bite in her mouth.

“That’s it Carmy. Maybe even better than the first time,” Syd purred the pork melting on her tongue and some of her anxiety with it.

He blushed and began eating too.

“It is pretty good. Eleven Madison Park taught me a lot.”

The meal was mostly silent except for the occasional ejaculation over some element of the dish. Carmy couldn’t help gazing at Syd, taking in each detail, and rejoicing in the whole. The dip above her collar bone that rose and fell whenever she swallowed, made his head swim. Her lovely face was absolutely regal framed by her new box braids. Syd’s brown skin glowed in the candlelight and a heavenly citrus scent emanated from her. Whenever her eyes caught his obvious staring, he was too filled with gratitude to look away. Sydney’s eyes were soft and filled with kindness for this dear, lovestruck man. He looked helpless. In moments like this she remembered her capacity to build or obliterate him at will.  “Go with the flow” she reminded herself.

After they finished the main, Carmy took their plates and returned, with dessert, Milk and Honey. Syd lit up at the sight and when she tried it a wave of surprise flitted across her face.

"Is that mango? I didn't taste it at first, but then it like...bloomed at the back. Wow!"

"I thought it could use a Sydney twist. You always grab the mango lollipops off Sug's desk."

She resumed eating her dessert. Carm noticed everything about her. She'd played the Teskey Brothers, once or twice while they cleaned after a service, comparing them to Otis.

The Milk and Honey was devoured too soon and just as she wondered what else was on the agenda, Carmy took their bowls and returned with a package tied with twine. He set it in front of her, hands trembling, and sat a little further away than before. Syd perceiving his anxiety didn't raise any questions. She untied the string, removed the wrapping paper, revealing a red leather hand-bound notebook. The cover was engraved with her initials. On the first page was one of Carmy's drawings. It was a curbside view of The Bear. Several lined pages followed, then a drawing of the grapes in bone marrow broth. This alternating of lined pages and his pictures continued throughout the thick notebook. There were more pictures of their recipes, the various designs of her head scarves, and some were of her in different attitudes. In one she was leading expo with the confidence of Napoleon, and another was a portrait, her chin leaning on her hand, with a faraway expression in her large brown eyes. There were several others, so perceptive that Sydney felt naked. Adored. The final picture was surreal. It was a profile of Carmy's head the entirety of which was filled with Sydney wearing a hopeful smile and the scarf and shirt she'd worn her first day at The Beef.

She couldn't stop looking at it, her index finger tracing the lines.

"Sy-d" Carmen croaked his voice thick.

Breaking.

She looked up to find red-brimmed blue eyes searching hers.

"Come here" she breathed and no sooner than she blinked he was at her side.

"Syd" he tried again. Hyperventilating.

"Say more", she gently commanded smoothing his hair back before taking his hand in her lap.

This disarmed him, and he grinned in surprise. That was his line.

"Okay."

Breathe

"I want you Syd. I want to be with you.”

Breathe

“I want to do everything with you or not at all."

Then for the first time he wanted to say the words that had been a weapon for most of his life. They either were forced on him or yanked from him. His mother thought those words meant meekly submitting to her abuse. For Mikey it was cutting him off, so he wasn't exposed to his self-destruction. He never got to say it all. Claire believed it was part of a script. If he would only play his role and ignore who they were underneath, those words would become true enough.

Now, he had a new idea about those words, and they were wrapped up in this beautiful, talented, funny, tender, generous, stubborn, loyal, woman. His friend.

Suddenly they didn't hurt. He continued leaning to rest his forehead on hers.

"I love you."

Sydney blinked slowly as if in a trance, tears dropping to their joined hands.

Carm didn't move, but his face was filled with concern.

'Syd, are you-" he started to ask. Then he was spinning.

Sydney kissed him.

His neurons habitually used to process grief, anxiety, and small doses of happiness, trembled with the unusual amount of joy coursing through him.

Sydney was delirious. Her only thought was, he loves me.

Carmy couldn't close his eyes. The curve of her soft cheek so near his made him want to cry.

Then he did, for Sydney said,

"I love you, too."

[ceriisetheflower]

Self Care (M)

omega!renjun

wc: 4.8k

synopsis: renjun decides to take on his first heat the best way he knows how, as luxuriously as possible.

cw: smut...a lot of it. in immense detail. sex toys, pornography, multiple orgasms, unrealistic amounts of cum, stomach bulge, male squirting/watersports (depending on what you consider squirt to be lmao), overstimulation, cum eating, dildo sucking, mentions of fictional heat related illnesses, america-centric world building, a bitch with no friends attempting friendly dialogue.

a/n: well here it is! first full fic. believe it or not this was meant to be no longer than 1k, then i realized i get kinda pissed when fics don't include enough context for elements in the fic so i'd be a hypocrite if i didn't paint a likely unnecessarily vivid picture. feedback is much appreciated!

we love u very dearly junnie B💛

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

The sound of the dryer finishing its freshly washed load of delicates interrupted his fifth run through of his checklist. “Ok, let’s see….lube? Check. Waterproof blankets? Check. Three hour long Alpha on Alpha porn playlist? Check.” Renjun finally sighed with relief. It’s not everyday he obsesses over the amount of lube he has in his arsenal (he restocks his eight oz bottle of sliquid sassy every eight weeks on the dot), but it’s a special occasion. The special occasion.

He rebukes the term “late-bloomer”, despite the average age for an omega’s first heat occurring around eighteen. Renjun has always justified his lack of mating cycles with his ever present practicality. “You were absolutely ridiculous for a week straight until your heat broke.” He recalls to Donghyuck during their semi-regularly scheduled facetime catch-up they’ve adopted post grad school.

“I had so much going on freshman year, it would’ve made no sense for me to have to deal with a heat. Twenty-four is a way better age anyways, my prefrontal cortex is like eighty-five percent done, I can actually handle my brain being scrambled eggs for five days”. He says passively, ignoring the unimpressed look coming from the boy on the other side of the phone.

He unfortunately remembers the horrors of hearing Donghyuck’s first heat through their paper mache dorm room walls when they were eighteen, and the next heat three months later, and the next eighteen heats he endured as Donghyuck’s roommate. He’s convinced the boy has had enough heats for the both of them, especially considering Renjun was held solely responsible for ensuring his dear friend didn’t die of hunger or dehydration through them. It's a thankless job, but someone had to do it.

“Right, so I guess twenty-four is also the age where you’re finally gonna finish growing huh? Prime time to finally reach big boy height.” Donghyuck quips back, taking a break from grading assignments to goad the blonde boy giving him a deadpan stare through the phone.

“Bitch you’re literally 5’6 1/2 what are you talking about?” Renjun retorts, “it’s no way you’re calling me short when you just complained about how you cant find shoe lifts in canada.” Donghyuck widens his eyes in shock. “Talking about shoe lifts when you just begged me to ask Doyoung if he could hem those jeans 6 inches shorter is crazy work Renjun.” 

They continue their childlike bickering over their similarly petite frames for an unreasonable amount of time, before Donghyuck remembers the real reason for today’s meeting. “Ok but seriously, how are you feeling about this whole thing? I know it’s kinda a lot at once, be honest with me?” Donghyuck starts. He woke up two days ago to Renjun’s frenzied calls, knowing his friend was well aware that waking hours for him in Atlanta were still Donghyuck’s “dead to the world” hours in Vancouver, he was for certain there was an actual emergency.

Renjun had woken up with a pounding headache, abdominal cramps, and the unsettlingly wet mouth feel that comes right before vomiting. He knew what that meant, but refused to actually confront what was happening until Donghyuck got a look at him and convinced him to go to the omega urgent care. Donghyuck sat on the phone with him while he waited for the doctor, cheered as Renjun got the confirmation he was in pre-heat (much to Renjun’s dismay), and helped him pick the best painkillers to aid his cramps and headache. It was the best he could do from another country, fighting the urge to book a flight to go support his best friend in what’s easily the most important event in an omega's life. His husband only barely managed to convince him it was unnecessary and that they could just send him a nice care package in the mail on expedited shipping, Mark was always the level headed one in the relationship.

Renjun sighed before he could answer. “To keep it one-hundred percent real with you, I’m terrified. Like am I gonna be okay? What if I fuck up somehow and I end up never being able to have kids or something insane? Anything could happen?” Renjun said, ever the worrywort and full of trepidation about new experiences. Donghyuck scoffed, rolling his eyes at the catastrophization of the world’s most natural activity. “Friend, how could you possibly fuck up jerking off? You’ve had a solid twelve years of experience for this, relax!” Renjun shut his eyes and huffed in annoyance, “Obviously that’s not what I’m worried about idiot. I’m worried that I won’t be able to actually satisfy myself through the whole thing, and you know what happens if I can’t be fully satisfied.” Donghyuck sighs in acknowledgement.

Continuous Heating Syndrome, colloquially known as a heat frenzy, is a rare but unfortunate side effect of a heat that goes unsatiated. Nonstop migraines, vomiting, loss of motor function, seizures, or shit...even worse. Donghyuck has heard horror stories of omegas having perfectly normal heats that turn into three week stints at the hospital after they couldn’t break. Scary shit. Rare for all omegas, but increasingly likely for an unmated omega without consistent access to a knot, a category which Renjun unfortunately falls into. “Look at it this way” Donghyuck starts, “It’s not like you have no options at all. You don’t necessarily have to do this alone.” Renjun grimaces. He knows exactly where Donghyuck is going with this, and he’s not even remotely here for it.

 “I’m not calling the heat hotline.” Renjun was scared, not desperate. He had no reason to hire a random Alpha who needed extra money to come fuck him for five days straight, he could figure something else out for sure. “Oh girl please!” Donghyuck exclaims, “That’s literally exactly what you need right now! They’re super strict about testing so you won’t have to worry about that, plus it’s covered by your insurance? What is the issue?” Renjun rolls his eyes, ‘The issue is that you think i’m supposed to just randomly fuck the first alpha who doesn’t look like he snuck on the planet just to stop myself from going into a coma, I have options bitch!” 

Donghyuck scoffs, “Sure you do. Is now the time when Jen and Jae finally jump through the screen of their newest edging scene to keep you company through your heat? Porn only takes you so far, friend.” Renjun hates that Donghyuck knows him well enough to know he’s been anxiously scouring his favorite alpha pornstars’ onlyfans to find some semblance of relief through his rapidly approaching week of agony. “I have toys! So many toys! I don’t need an alpha at all, I have like six different vibrating cocks to choose from” Renjun grumbled. He was a fully self sufficient twenty-four year old omega who doesn’t need an alpha! Or so he continues to force himself to believe.

“If you’re gonna be stubborn about it, the least you can do is be safe.” Donghyuck says, his worried expression softening the defensive stance Renjun has adopted. “You do have someone nearby right? Just in case you need someone to check in on you in person?” “Of course, Yangyang and Chenle are in the building down the street, if I need a restock on anything or if I start overheating and dying I can call them.” Renjun replies, in an attempt to calm his friend from his concerns. “You’re not gonna die girl. Especially since I found the perfect thing to help you out!” Donghyuck beams, giving Renjun his signature “I’ve done something I know you won’t like but I’m smart enough to know it’s what you need" look.

“Is it a dick? Don’t buy me a dick Hyuck I swear to god.” Renjun says, “Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time? Dick shopping instead of feeling sorry for me? I can't believe this.” “If it makes you feel better it’s not a dick, you have so many other ones another would be excessive, even for me. You’re gonna love it though! All those fears of heat frenzy are gonna go right out the window!” Renjun eyes the brunette through the screen suspiciously, Donghyuck’s odd enthusiasm has been the catalyst to multiple cautionary tales Renjun is saving for his grandkids. Now might be the worst time to let his guard down. “I swear to god, if it’s something weird i’m sending it back and getting a restraining order.” Donghyuck giggles in nefarious delight, “It’ll be at your doorstep in two days!” Renjun groans in horror.

Renjun is shaken from his daydream riddled with Donghyuck’s alarming cackles by the sound of the doorbell being rang for the fourth time. “Oh! Coming, coming, so sorry!” He yells out, rushing to the front door to see his instacart delivery driver struggling to hold Renjun’s last minute groceries. The poor guy takes a deep breath and tries not to look nearly as phased as he is by Renjun’s sweet bergamot scent. “I-I wasn’t able to find the caramel pecan cookies, so I got you an extra box of kitchen sink cookies, I hope that’s ok?” The man stutters, clearly fighting the urge to comment on what smells like the sweetest omega he’d ever met. “Oh no worries! Thank you so much, they always go out of stock pretty quick.” Renjun replies, now increasingly aware of the alpha’s growing nervousness and intensified teakwood scent.

He hurries to grab the groceries from the boy and set them on his kitchen counter. “Here you go!” Renjun says, handing over his nice ten percent tip for the guy’s troubles. “T-T-Thank you!” he replies, after making a horribly obvious attempt at trying to inhale as much of Renjun’s residual scent on the ten dollar bill. Renjun awkwardly waves him goodbye, and closes the door of his apartment asking whichever deity that watches over him why he couldn’t have already been mated to avoid having to endure that. The plights of a single omega, he thinks to himself, now rapidly moving towards his kitchen to take final inventory. 

His heat is scheduled to begin sometime tonight, made clear by his overwhelming scent and his unbearable body temperature. He’s already considered turning his air conditioner up higher, but realizing that his poor plants would hate to live in a house that’s fifty-five degrees for a week straight, he suffers in a scantily clad haze. He’s stocked up with seven cases of water, four boxes of cookies, six frozen pizzas, and three family sized bags of chicken nuggets. His poor air-fryer will be working overtime this week, Renjun is fully prepared to only have twenty minutes of energy between heat spikes to keep himself semi-sufficiently nourished. He grabs an armful of waters and sports drinks he’d picked up earlier that week to carry them to his room. He placed them next to the other small snacks he’d put in his mini fridge conveniently sitting next to his nest, there was no way he’d be able to make it to the kitchen after the first few rounds and immediate hydration was a non-negotiable.

Renjun took a moment to be proud of himself. He was a single omega preparing for the most intense and important event of his life. All those incredibly awkward sex-ed lessons he endured in middle school, and the trauma-inducing nights spent handing Donghyuck and Mark bottles of gatorade and fruit snacks while trying to avoid  seeing any genitals had finally led up to this moment. Renjun was fully prepared. Renjun was gonna be okay. 

His doorbell rings again. This time unexpectedly. He opens the door to find another delivery man, this time an omega, Renjun can tell by the soft lavender scent. “Order for Renjun Huang?’ The man asks. Renjun grimaces at the horrifically American butchering of his name, giving a pleasant but unsure smile. “Yes! That’s me” Renjun replies, taking a look at the ominously large box the man is holding. "Great, sign here please” He grumbles, trying to make quick work of what Renjun can only presume is his last delivery of the day. Renjun makes quick work of scribbling his signature on the dotted line, before mumbling a quick thank you and grabbing the box. It’s oddly heavy, which wouldn’t be too concerning, until he took a closer look at the label and read ‘From: Mark and Donghyuck ♡,” in Donghyuck’s messy half cursive half print handwriting.

“Oh dear god” Renjun thinks, now the weight of the box is a genuine cause for concern. He heaves the box to his counter and takes a deep breath before cutting it open. Much to his surprise, it’s all normal nice things. He pulls out a box of the maple cookies Renjun became obsessed with when Mark brought them back a box after returning to campus from his thanksgiving break in Vancouver, the ones Renjun was pissed to find out aren’t available in Atlanta. He sees a stuffed bear and stuffed cheetah wrapped in plastic, Renjun pulls them out to admire the resemblance to his dear friends before he realizes they were both scented like Hyuck and Mark. Renjun could just cry. He felt so loved and cherished by his best friend, how loving and thoughtful Donghyuck always was despite being a smug piece of shit ninety percent of the time. He’s been wanting nothing more than to experience one of their “cuddle puddles”, that while Renjun would always protest, he secretly loved. He pulls out a lovely soft yellow blanket with pretty little ruffles on the ends, perfect to go in his nest for added comfort. Wrapped in the blanket is a little note: 

 “You’re gonna have a great time Junnie! Don’t overthink things, just relax and enjoy the ride! We love you so very much! - Hyuckie and Markie”

Renjun is tearing up, his friends love him so much, he’s gonna be okay! Then he sees another box at the bottom, hidden by the blanket and other gifts before it. He shimmies the black box out of the larger brown one and places it on the counter, now able to get a full look at what the picture on the box is displaying. The tears instantly dry. The feelings of love and admiration are replaced with immediate annoyance.

In a scary showcase of friendship telepathy, his phone rings, lighting up with the picture Donghyuck took of his flared nostrils freshman year. Renjun sighs, then answers the phone. “Why would you buy me a fuck machine?” Renjun stares into the phone, hoping to look as menacing as he can in a hello kitty headband holding his blonde strands from his face. “I see you got our present.” Donghyuck replies, shit eating grin so intense his lips were threatening to split apart. “I told you I had just the thing in mind for your heat girlie!” Renjun huffs with the full intent to call Donghyuck everything but a child of god, but he’s getting hotter and the throbbing between his legs is getting more intense. Tonight he chooses peace. “In seven days you’ll begin to cough” he says, and hangs up the phone to let out a loud exasperated grunt. 

Now the real preparation begins. Renjun walks over to his dryer and pulls out his satin robe he’d freshly washed for the occasion. He makes his way over to his bathroom to begin the most intense shower he’s had since his last failed date with an alpha he met on Wolfr. “Nice dick, horrendous vibes.” Renjun shudders at the memory. “Maybe that’s just how guys from Connecticut are? Connecticut is barely a real place, who cares.” He pauses his internal monologue for a moment to place a vanilla scented shower steamer in the corner of the tub. He lights himself a few overpriced indie candles he got from a small business bazaar in the city, and starts easing himself out of his tiny shorts.

He takes his time pulling the silky fabric of his briefs, gently coaxing his dick out of the fabric. He shudders at the cold air hitting his half-hard cock, sending shivers up his spine and another light stream of slick out of his tip. “Fuck,” He moans softly, entirely too aroused for his own good. He pulls his shirt over his head, shuddering again when the air hits his puffy swollen nipples. He takes the time to get a full look at himself in the full size mirror. “Fuck I’m hot. No wonder that Alpha almost popped his knot earlier,” Renjun smiles to himself confidently.

He makes his way into the shower, taking a deep breath of the warm vanilla scent circling him, meshing wonderfly with his own light citrusy aroma. The hot water of the shower electrifies Renjun’s body, he takes a moment to soak in the amazing feeling of the heat comforting his aching limbs. He starts with his favorite lemon and honey scented body wash to begin carefully massaging his arms and chest with the warm and fruity bubbles.

The sensation of the lather was already driving him crazy, absolutely loving the way his hands gilded seamlessly over his hips and ass. Renjun wasn’t normally the type to be so turned on by his own body, he guesses it’s just the excess hormones making any sight of bare skin immensely arousing. He snaps out of his hormone induced stupor to remember that he has a whole shower routine to get through, so he gives his soft chest a final squeeze, then moves back under the welcoming stream of the water to rinse himself clean. He grabs his body scrub and locks in for the remainder of his shower. 

Renjun emerges in a cloud of sugary citrus air, intoxicating even to himself. He wraps himself in his gold satin robe, and makes his way to his vanity for his finishing touches. Renjun digs through his copious amounts of products to find the expensive body oil he’s been saving for this very occasion. He strips off his robe, and starts massaging the oil into his skin, starting at his legs. Every dip his fingers make into his skin brings him closer to ecstasy. Closer to what he knows is gonna be the most intense feeling of his life. He’s just barely finished rubbing himself down when he starts leaking a new stream of slick from his puckered asshole.

“Oh shit, that must mean it’s about to be time huh?” He figures, moving to wrap his robe around him yet again to avoid his neighbors getting a free show through his open blinds. He draws the curtains, dims the lights, and connects his television to his laptop for an optimized viewing experience. He already has his nightly entertainment pulled up, three hours of Jen and Jae’s best material. Nothing that riles Renjun up more than seeing an alpha take a eleven inch dick like he was made for it.

He settles into the spot he carefully carved into his nest, when he lays his eyes on the pretty yellow blanket Donghyuck sent him in his care package. Then he thinks about what else was present in the care package. He pauses for a second, thinking about how he actually hadn’t even taken the fuck machine out of the box. “Well obviously I didn’t take it out the box, I’m not giving Hyuck the satisfaction of knowing I used a toy he gave me,” Renjun thinks to himself. Then again, it’s not as if Hyuck has to know Renjun used it. Then again, it’s not as if using it could be a bad idea, Renjun considers.

He drags himself out of bed to collect the box from the kitchen counter, setting it down on his bed as he begins to actually open the machine. He definitely recognizes the machine, it’s pretty famous among omega content creators due to its lightweight build and convenient suction cup base to accommodate any dildo the user pleases. He looks over at the extended assortment of toys he’s curated for tonight’s events:  a vibrating fleshlight for his cock and three different dildos in ascending length and thickness for his differing stages of need. Renjun felt his hole flutter with excitement as another gush of slick slid down his thighs.

He thinks about it for a moment, considering how much nicer it'd be if he didn’t have to be responsible for thrusting his toys in and out of his slicked hole. He decides to use the suction cup base of the fuck machine to attach it to the headboard of his bed, checking the height of his placement to ensure it would be the perfect height for him to comfortably get backshots from the toy. If he’s desperate enough for it he, reasons, first choosing to hold off from letting Donghyuck be right about something for as long as possible. With the machine firmly secured, Renjun settles back into his comfy spot in the nest. He takes off his robe, presses play on his laptop, and reaches for his fresh bottle of lube to start massaging his warm cock. 

He’s 10 minutes into watching Jae eat Jen’s ass when Renjun finally has his first orgasm. His little heaves and moans fill the room as he milks himself of his well deserved release. “Ooh…ahh…ahh...fuck!” He shouts, pulling himself further into overstimulation as his vision starts to haze over. He’s laying in a puddle of hot slick, constantly pumping out more and more as he keeps toying with his cock. He’s using his other hand to pump his fingers furiously in his asshole, loving the searing sensation of his hole stretching over his digits. “Mmm fuck...fuck, ooh make him cum Jae” he moans, picturing himself as the pornstars’ third wheel in their bedroom.

He realizes his hands aren’t gonna cut it though, he releases his cock from his vice grip and winces as he pulls his fingers from his ass to grab his fleshlight and the smallest dildo from the pile. “Oh shit,” he hisses, feeling that same intoxicating stretch to the next degree as he tries to slip the seven inch toy deep inside. He needs another large squirt of lube to get the job done, a sign he hasn’t completely gone into heat quite yet, letting his semi-delirious brain know he still has some semblance of self-control.

He pours another squirt of lube directly into the fleshlight, giving it a few pumps with his fingers, and then using those same fingers to pump his cock, before squeezing his drained but solid dick into the tight slippery hole.  He’s fully entranced in the sensations of his body now, leaking so much slick his toy keeps slipping out of his hole. The throbbing between his legs is reaching an ungodly peak, rushing his second orgasm into him like a train. “Ahhhh FUCK,” he screams, feeling the pulse of his prostate send him into overdrive. His cum and slick is pooling at the base of his dick, overflowing the fleshlight and adding to the lewd sounds deafening his ears.

He makes a move to turn up the vibrations on the toy, barely getting a chance to move his hand from the button before the pulse of his third release shakes him to the core. Renjun is completely lost at this point, barely aware of anything around him other than his seemingly never ending fountain of cum and the hypnotic sights and sounds of his favorite muscle bottom getting dicked within an inch of his life. God he wishes that was him taking alpha meat. Then he remembers it totally can be him. He grabs the biggest dick he owns, neglecting any more prep that the fifteen minutes of intense pounding hasn’t provided, and sticks the heavy dildo to the waiting base of the fuck machine.

He positions himself comfortably in front of the plastic cock, taking a moment to admire his mess on his satin sheets. “S-Shit…ohhh fuck,” he hisses as he shoves the toy into his ass. He barely gives himself a moment to adjust before he reaches for the remote to start the lowest thrusting pattern, desperate for the feeling of his hole getting stretched to its limits. Renjun lets out a low groan while the toy picks up speed. He clicks it up to the second level and jolts as the tip of the cock starts hitting his prostate. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh,” he groans, spilling more slick onto his sheets and sliding into his fourth orgasm, leaving his mind completely broken. He sets his fleshlight to its highest vibration and suction level, and shakes himself into another release.

If he had any ability to think critically he would be concerned for the amount of fluid leaking into his mattress, considering he’d completely forgotten to lay down the waterproof blankets he was so intent would save him a massive cleaning bill, especially since the cock in his ass causes another surge of slick to shoot from his hole. Nearing delirium, Renjun decides the dual stimulation still isn’t enough. He wants even more, he needs even more.

The smell of his slick and cum is intoxicating, leaving his brain just as fried as the underpaid alpha that nearly sprung a leak at his door earlier. He grabs the smaller dildo that he used to work his ass open at the start of his playtime, and gave it a slow lick from the balls to the tip. Tasting himself on the toy made his next orgasm even harder, sucking the head of the dildo like it was an actual alpha. Throating the cock to it’s hilt like Jae himself was fucking his throat. Renjun was officially in heat, too spent to think, and too horny to care. 

With the last bit of his reflexes he has left, he manages to switch the fuck machine to it’s highest setting, and prepares himself for the ride of his life. “Ohhhhh Shit! Oh Shit! Fuckkkkkk,” he stutters, forming the last coherent phrases he’ll be saying for a while. His head is absolutely pounding, reality is bending, and all he knows is fact are the loud moans he and Jen are churning out along with the surge of energy rushing through his ass and cock. “Ahh oh my god, oh my god,” he screams, ushering himself into otherworldly realms of pleasure.

His cock is being milked to extremes he didn’t know were possible, the pumping motions of the fleshlight sending streams of cum all over his balls and thighs from where the toy could no longer hold his load. He groans as the cock in his ass pounds into his prostate, sending him further into the orgasmic spiral he has no intention of leaving. He’s coming down from his tenth orgasm when he finally decided to give his dick a break, pulling the toy milking him for the last two hours off his cock and throwing it to the side, in the interest of laying face down ass up, fully submitting to the plastic cock he’s worshiping with every fiber of his being.

He can barely make any sounds other than small gurgles when he starts craving his own musk again, grabbing the fleshlight and sticking his tongue as deep as he can into the sopping wet hole, basking in the scent of his pleasure. He slurps up his essence as he feels his ass getting tighter, the dildo seemingly rutting rougher and rougher to break through his grip. He slides himself back even further on the toy, taking all eleven inches impossibly deep, crying out at the feeling of his stomach bulging from the cock mixing up his guts. Renjun is lost in the vortex of his heat, unable to do anything but scream in pleasure in between licking his fleshlight like it’s a real asshole, when he feels it.

His eyes go wide, his ass locks up around the plastic knot completely, the overwhelming pleasure forcing his body to mate with the cock rearranging him. The toy stops moving in and out, too suffocated by Renjuns slick walls to complete a full cycle of motion, instead sending deep thuds of pressure directly on his prostate. His eyes start rolling back as his body starts convulsing, unable to control his movements. His loud moans turn to deafening screams when a long stream of clear liquid shoots from his cock. He cries out in pleasure as he lets out endless gushes of liquid, soaking through whatever parts of his mattress weren’t already sticky with slick. His voice starts to taper off into quieter whines, soon after, Renjun’s vision goes black. 

Renjun wakes up thirty minutes later, slightly less attached to the toy. Its batteries must’ve died sometime between him squirting and passing out, but Renjun has little recollection of anything that occurred once his first heat spike hit. He hears the faint sound of his pornstars giving each other aftercare from what must’ve been a similarly intense scene in the background, figuring he should follow in Jen’s footsteps and have a bottle of water.

He rolls over in his nest, taking in the absolutely ruined state of his bed, along with the extremely satisfied feeling in his body. “Woah,” he thinks, “I gotta get Hyuck a Waffle House gift card or something.”

[kaleldobrev]

Betrayal (2) — Take Me Back Series

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After making a deal to bring you back, Sam doesn't see you until years later when your paths cross during a case

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | Hi, I just joined Tumblr and came across your blog, it's wonderful! I'd like to make a request, something between Sam and reader. The reader dies and Sam makes a pact to bring her back, but she comes back without remembering him and the hunting life. He thinks it's best to stay away from her. Years later they meet and she falls in love with him all over again, and when they kiss she regains her memory. Do you like it?

Chapter Word Count: 1.6k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (2x), Sad!Sam

Authors Note: Flashbacks are in italics | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Read Chapter One Here | Take Me Back Masterlist

Sam was lying awake just staring up at the ceiling of his and Dean's motel room, simply wondering what you were currently doing this time of night. A few years ago, he would have found you drawing in your journal, but with it being four years later, he was sure that you probably found something else to occupy your time instead. But picturing you still drawing somehow brought him a small sense of comfort.

He sighed, thinking back to one of the last times he had witnessed you drawing -- only a few days before he had made that demon deal in order to bring you back. It was a memory that he often found himself coming back to; a brief moment in time that he had taken for granted; a time he wished he cherished more.

“Ever going to draw me?” Sam asked, turning to his side as he watched you start to draw various assortments of flowers which was one of your favorite subjects to draw.

You grinned at him, holding the pencil in your hand. “Unless you want me butchering your features, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“You’re a better artist than I’ll ever be,” he said, resting his hand on your sheet covered leg.

“Give me a few years and maybe I can attempt then,” you smiled, leaning in and giving him a quick peck, a peck that Sam found himself quickly deepening.

"I love you," Sam said, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

"I love you too," you replied, giving him a small smile.

You were sitting in your armchair in the living room with your sketchbook in your lap; the only source of light in the room was coming from the corner lamp right next to you. For some strange reason, you were currently attempting to draw Agent Sam Campbell, a man that you had just met today. But despite just meeting him today and only having a brief half an hour conversation with him, you felt strangely drawn to him; like there was something familiar about him. The thing that got you the most was when he smiled at you; it was the type of smile that instantly gave you such a sense of peace, like the anxiety you were previously experiencing had just melted away -- no one had ever made you feel that way before. You wished that you could have met Sam under better circumstances, as you probably would have tried and flirted with him. But flirting was the last thing on your mind, as your main priority was finding out who had killed your teens.

Slightly yawning, you got up from the armchair, placing your sketchbook in the side drawer. As you started making your way to your bedroom to try and see if you could get a wink of sleep, your cellphone started vibrating, and you raised a brow; slightly confused as who would be calling you this late at night. Reaching into your pocket, the caller ID read Mel, and you immediately answered the call. You knew that it had to be something serious, as Mel rarely called you this time of night. "Mel, everything okay?" You asked, your voice slightly worried.

“I uh…I need you to come to the center…it’s…it’s an emergency….” Her voice was a slight ramble, trembling.

“What kind of emergency?” You questioned, your brain starting to on high alert.

“The uh…the killer is here…it’s one of our volunteers…” she trailed off again, and slight panic entered you.

“Mel, call the cops or call those FBI guys,” you answered. There were silence on the other end, and then a blood curdling scream. “Mel!” You screamed, and then the line went dead. “Son of a bitch,” you mumbled.

"So, I just did a cross reference of all the volunteers and workers at Y/N's shelter to see if there was anyone present during all five murders. And besides Y/N, there were two other people," Sam said, starting to turn his laptop around for Dean to look at it.

"Mel and Robbie," Dean said, looking at their pictures on Sam's laptop. "Which one are you thinking? Mel or Robbie?"

"Hard to say," Sam admitted. "My instinct is saying Mel only because she was the one that found all the bodies."

"But that doesn't mean necessarily that she's the one that murdered them," Dean continued, and Sam nodded.

"Exactly," Sam agreed. "But, there is something a little weird about Mel."

"Meaning?" Dean asked, passing back Sam his laptop.

"Well, the first two weird things that come to mind is the fact that her name isn't actually Mel, it's Cynthia. And, she's not actually from Kansas City, she's from Malibu," Sam said.

"And what's so weird about that? A lot of people from Kansas City aren't actually from Kansas City. In fact, Y/N isn't even from Kansas City," Dean mentioned.

"Dean, you don't think it's a little suspicious that Mel is actually from Malibu?" Sam asked.

Dean thought about it for a moment before answering. "No, not at all."

"Okay, let me put it this way. Mel moved here from Malibu on March 10, 2019. On March 5, 2019 I made that crossroads deal in order to bring Y/N back," Sam explained.

"March 10th is the same day we came back to Kansas," Dean added.

"Yep," Sam nodded.

"Son of a bitch," Dean mumbled. "You thinkin' what I'm thinking?"

"Mel's the crossroads demon," Sam and Dean said in unison.

"We gotta warn Y/N," Sam said, his voice panicked.

Dean walked over to the motel dresser where he had placed his keys and picked them up in his hands. "I'm hoping you know where she lives Stalker Boy," he said.

Sam looked at his brother about to defend the reasoning for knowing where you had lived, but decided against it, as there was really no time. "Yeah," he said, a little defeated sounding.

You were tied to a chair in the middle of the shelter's gym; all the lights were off and you could barely see anything. The only source of light coming from outside from the moonlight. A second later, you started hearing footsteps from behind you, and your heart started to race just a little bit. Your body jolted a little when two hands were placed on your shoulders. "No need to be nervous Doll," Mel's voice said, but it didn't particularly sound like her natural sounding voice. Her normal voice was a little bit of a higher pitch; this one's was a little deeper.

"I don't know how you don't expect me to be nervous when you have me tied to a chair in the middle of the night," you said, your voice sounding a bit more snarky than you intended it to sound. "How about you untie me and we can talk about whatever is going on with you uh?"

"As much as I love that idea, there's really nothing for us to talk about Sweetcheeks," Mel said, and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before she grabbed a metal chair and placed it in front of you in order for her to sit down. "I'm just merely stalling for time until the Winchester's arrive to rescue you," she said, the biggest smile on her lips.

"The Winchester's?" You asked, raising a brow. "Who the fuck are the Winchester's?" The only Winchester's you could think of were the gun people. Even then, you weren't completely sure if you had gotten the name right.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Mel answered. "Your partners in crime. Your found family," she smiled. You still looked at her confused, and she slightly rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be frustrated with you. It's not your fault," she apologized. "You know those cute FBI guys that you talked to earlier Sam and Dean Campbell?" She asked, and you nodded. "They're Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Are they even FBI?" You asked. Your question made Mel laugh, almost making her fall out of her seat.

"Oh now that's funny!" She continued to laugh. "No, no. Not even remotely close," she said. "Both of them have been on the FBI Most Wanted List though," she smiled. "And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you were on there too at some point."

"I think I would have remembered something like that," you said, your voice a little hesitant.

"Oh! Yes! That's right. You wouldn't have remembered that. Silly me," she giggled to herself. "That's not the only thing you don't remember either."

"What do you mean?" You asked, again, your voice was still hesitant; as you were confused as to what she was even talking about.

"Sammy Campbell, AKA Sammy Winchester," Mel grinned.

"What about him?" You had no idea where she was going with this, but you hated the little teasing she was giving you. She was somehow giving you a lot of information but not enough information at the same time.

"He's the love of your life," she said simply. "Your soulmate. His words."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You asked her. "I have literally never met Sam before this."

"Aw Sweetheart, but you have. But, it's not really your fault for not remembering, that's what the deal was," she said.

"What deal?" You questioned, the biggest grin formed on her face.

"The deal to bring you back from the dead," she said this so matter of factly. You wanted anything not to believe her, but for some reason, you found yourself believing her words. "In order to bring your pretty self back from the dead, Sammy made a deal with me. And the deal was, I bring you back but you forget everything about hunting in addition to not remembering lover boy."

You looked at her, trying to find a hint of a lie, but you couldn't. She was telling the truth. And you didn't know what you were upset with the most. The fact that you didn't remember that you had died, the fact that there was a whole chunk of your life that was completely missing, or the fact that you didn't remember being in love with Sam.

In the next chapter...

“Sam? Dean?” You called out.

“Yeah it’s us,” Sam replied, walking toward you. “You okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine just…confused,” you confessed, as Sam started to untie your hands from the chair.

“I’m sure. I’m sorry Mel wasn’t who you thought she was,” Sam said, as he finished untying you.

As soon as Sam was done untying you, he moved in front of you in order to stand next to Dean. "That's not entirely it," you said, the two men raised a brow. "Mel...Mel said I knew you guys."

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[transmasc-wizard]

Writblr Intro •°☆

it's me! I live! hi again :)

[ID: an aesthetic photo header of books, a sweater, a typewriter and a candle at a window. end ID]

ABOUT ME:

You can call me Beck or Nathan, I'm a teen writer who used to be really active back in 2021/2022 but had a. really. really long writing slump... 😔. but I'm back now!! (I was chaotic-queer-disaster.)

I love fantasy, horror, and queer stories. I also explore disability a lot in my work as someone with both born and acquired disabilities.

some of my favourite themes to explore are identity, loss/grief, hope, friendship, gender (especially in horror), the challenges of morality, and mental illness

I'm looking for fellow writers to talk to and uplift! I'm especially looking if you're any of the following: queer, disabled, teenaged, horror writer, or fantasy writer. (But all are welcome!)

My main projects are under the cut :)

[ID: a dark academia aesthetic photo of a pair of glasses on a cursive-written letter. end ID]

My Projects:

Bad Things Happen - an apocalyptic horror novel. After a party, three young adults get into a particularly nasty car crash. It rips a small hole in the universe, and they begin to be plagued with identical strings of bad luck. Their luck gets worse and more expansive every day, and soon they're fighting to stop the world itself from decaying around them. [Status: draft zero.]

The Other Ones - a half-epistolary horror novel. A group of true crime podcasters go into the strange forest on the edge of town to investigate a disappearance from 2 years ago, only to emerge hours later--covered in blood, no memory of what happened, and accompanied by the missing girl. [Status: outlining.]

Suicide Ghosts - a film script about a trans boy who is sent to an all-girls school and makes friends with the ghost girl who haunts his dorm room. As the school year goes on, they discover corruption, more hauntings, and the horror of holding identities you never asked for. [Status: outlining.]

Untitled Fairytale WIP/"gfs" - YA fantasy series with dystopia undertones. If you've been around for awhile, you'll remember it as GFS/GFW1! A group of teenagers discover they're linked to an ancient prophecy that states they're cursed to awaken gods who have slept since the last divine war. If this happens, desolation is inevitable. They must find a way to avert the prophecy--while an unidentified figure is doing everything in their power to make it come true. [Status: rewriting/reworking.]

If you've read this far, thank you! I'm really glad to be back and I hope to have a lot of fun in this community again :)

[aegon-targaryen]

Ghosts That We Knew

Zelink Week Day 2: Fading | TP Zelink | read on AO3) | @zelinkcommunity

Link dreamed of a golden wolf.

He bounded through a forest of mist, weaving through the towering trees that stood guard over this ancient place. Link’s paws kicked up leaves as he raced to catch up. Snatches of sound caught his attention from time to time—music, voices, a child’s giggle—but he kept to his course.

Yet the bright coat of his quarry disappeared from view, and when he slowed to a halt, he found himself in a clearing he would recognize anywhere. A sword waited at its center. He was padding forward to answer its call when the golden wolf emerged from the fog, his single eye glowing with crimson sorrow.

Turn back, he said with all the terrible gravity of time. Go and do not falter, my child.

Link sat up sharply, grasping his surroundings with the speed of someone shaped by deadly times: Ordon, safety, a sword within reach, Zelda in his bed.

Zelda in his bed. A foolish grin tugged at his lips. They’d spent plenty of nights together in the castle, but something about having her here was so enthralling. She was stirring now, rolling over to face him, and he tried to wipe the stupid look off his face.

“Link?” she mumbled sleepily. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Just a weird dream,” he assured her, laying back down under the dark oaken ceiling of his treehouse. Dawn and the journey back to Castle Town were still a few hours away. As always, a part of him longed to stay, but at least he would take with him the memory of Zelda dancing under the harvest festival lanterns, of Ordon welcoming her the same way they’d welcomed Link when he was only a lost little boy.

“I had one too,” Zelda said. “The scribe’s meeting minutes transformed into a Chu that terrorized my Council.”

He laughed. “You would dream about meeting minutes.”

“Now tell me about yours. It’s only fair.”

Go and do not falter, my child. Those words had been with Link when he dealt Ganondorf the ending blow, the final mercy, just like he’d been taught. “Well…did I ever tell you about the Hero’s Shade?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“He was a spirit, I guess. Sometimes a wolf, sometimes a skeleton in armor. He brought me into some…other realm and taught me some of his techniques.”

“The Hero’s Shade,” Zelda mused. “He called himself that?”

Link frowned, trying to remember. “I’m not sure. But it felt right to me.”

She was quiet for some time, though he could practically hear the gears of her mind turning. Eventually she reached through the darkness to touch his cheek and said, “Can you go back to sleep? Or shall we take a walk?”

Wide awake now, he followed her outside, where the harvest moon bathed the sleeping village in its silver glow. Other than the crickets singing in the tall grass, Ordon was quiet in a way Castle Town never was. Link loved his tiny room above Telma’s bar and his work in the Resistance; he’d even grown to love Hyrule Castle, because Zelda was there. But coming home was always like drawing his first breath after days underwater.

They passed by their sleeping horses and continued on to the Light Spirit’s spring. This place always felt different at night, cast in a strange glow unlike either the sun’s heat or the moon’s gleam. Zelda’s boots sank into the white sand as she wandered along the water’s edge.

“I know you don’t like to be called Hero,” she said quietly. “But—you are aware there was one before you?”

“Yeah.” Link had worn his tunic, carried his weapons, walked in his footsteps. “I figured the Shade had something to do with him.”

“He lived hundreds of years ago, but perhaps some part of him…lingered, as ghosts sometimes do.”

He’d seen plenty of ghosts as a wolf, but only one had spoken to him. Without asking a single question, the Shade understood who Link was and what he needed to learn. He’d understood the enemy, too. “He faced Ganondorf, didn’t he? Before the Sages sent him to the Twilight Realm?”

“Yes. The hero’s story is largely forgotten across Hyrule, but he was close with an ancestor of mine. She kept a journal, if you’d like to know more.”

Link couldn’t help but remember the curse Ganondorf had uttered with his last breath: The history of light and shadow will be written in blood. There had been so much weight to those words, a sense of that history reaching back further than Link could conceive, a sense that it would continue long past his lifetime.

The full force of it felt suddenly awful here in this spring, where fate had come roaring out of the forest to claim him last year, where he’d returned as a wolf and killed his first shadow beast in the same spot where Ilia used to bathe Epona. His predecessor had been hurt in the same way. All that sorrow had been evident in his rusted armor, his heavy sword, his single crimson eye.

Yet he hadn’t been alone. Link looked at Zelda and remembered hearing her name in passing as a child, thinking to himself: I know her. Remembered meeting her eyes in that tower, feeling like the sun had broken through stifling twilight to clear away any doubt: I know her.

“There was another you,” he breathed. “And there was another me.”

Her brow creased thoughtfully, such a familiar expression that his heart twisted in his chest. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but…yes.”

“It happened before. Will it happen again?”

Zelda drew closer, glowing like magic in the spring’s unearthly light, her dark hair spilling loose over her white nightgown. She touched the scar on Link’s cheek and said softly, “Not for a long time, I hope. But if it does, we will face it together.”

.

.

.

After breakfast came the hardest part of home: saying goodbye. While Uli stuffed Link’s saddlebags with as many snacks as possible, Beth tried to convince Zelda to bring her back to the castle and make her a princess. Rusl lost the battle with his wriggling toddler and handed her to Link, who was happy to bounce her up and down on his hip until she settled.

“She likes you more than me,” Rusl grumbled.

“Hey,” Link said, tapping the Triforce on the back of his left hand. “I already had this when you found me in Faron, right?”

Rusl raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Are you wondering about your birth parents?”

“It’s all right if you are,” Uli said, pausing her struggle with the saddlebags. “I only wish we were able to find you some answers.”

Link was wondering more about the wheels of time, the Goddesses who spun them, and an ancient ghost who called him my child. “No,” he answered, ruffling his little sister’s hair before he handed her back to Rusl. “You gave me everything I needed.”

Uli inspected his face with a smile, then turned to hug Zelda, who accepted the embrace with her slow smile—the kind that bloomed so uncertainly across her face, as though she was afraid someone would come and take it away. But she held onto it this time, beaming at Link over Uli’s shoulder, and the sight made him happy enough to lessen the pain of leaving.

.

.

.

Tucked away in a forgotten corner of Hyrule Castle was a graveyard accessible only to those who knew its secrets—at least, that was what Zelda said as she waved the illusory entrance away. It felt like stepping into a different realm blanketed by silence and thick grey mist, where there had just been sunlight and clear skies on the other side of the wall.

Since the Twilight, the crooked headstones had been straightened and the rubble cleared away. The thought of her coming here alone to weave her magic through her family’s resting place made Link proud and sad in equal measure.

“I’ve…actually been here,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was looking for a key to get me inside the castle, so…I burrowed under the wall. Sorry.”

Zelda’s mouth twitched. “Don’t be. My mother, at least, would have found that amusing.”

She halted under an enormous oak tree, its branches reaching far enough to brush the courtyard’s stone walls. Link still remembered the words inscribed on the tombstone, because they’d itched at the back of his mind on his first visit: The cursed swordsman sleeps beneath the sacred tree.

“He’s buried here?”

“I don’t believe so,” Zelda replied, pulling a weathered book from the pocket of her cloak and flipping through until she found a certain page and handed it over. “This is what my ancestor wrote.”

All they found were broken pieces of his armor, the journal said. People keep telling me he could have survived. But I am old enough to prefer hard truths over false hope. He’s gone. I know it in my soul. 

Tears sprang to Link’s eyes. “Where did he die, then?”

Far away, said a voice that creaked like the branches of the old oak, and they turned to find the golden wolf behind them, his image blurring and reforming into the spectral skeleton who had trained Link. Too far.

“It’s you,” Zelda breathed.

The Shade’s gaze snagged on her face as she drew closer, and he went still, his sword hanging loosely from his ruined fingers. His translucent form pulsed in and out of being with every breath. Princess, he said in a faint whisper.

Zelda had been queen for some time now, but she just smiled at him sadly. “Have you been here all this time?”

His red eye shifted to Link. I returned when the beast did. It should never have fallen on anyone else.

“No, that’s…” Link’s throat was tightening. When Zelda touched his arm, he swallowed hard and continued. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You made me strong enough to win.”

And now you have won. Stay the course. Leave the sword where it lies. Do not falter as I did.

“I—I never do, thanks to you.”

Stay with her, the Shade insisted. Treasure her. Be there long enough to say goodbye.

Zelda raised her head suddenly, digging around in her cloak pocket. Link only caught a brief glimpse of what she produced—a painted miniature of a golden-haired woman—before the Shade choked out a sound that was undoubtedly, devastatingly human.

“She treasured you too,” Zelda promised. “She felt you go, and knew it wasn’t your fault. She…she wrote…” Her free hand brushed Link’s, tilting the journal towards her so she could read aloud. “I buried those pieces of armor in a garden we both loved. The cursed swordsman and all the weight he carried will rest here. But the rest of him is free. I can feel him in the earth, in the wind’s song, in the beat of my heart.”

“She was right,” Link realized. “You’re what he left behind. But the beast is dead, and we’re—we’re going to be okay. You can rest now. Is that why you’re here? Because you’re ready to rest?”

The Shade stared at him in wordless disbelief.

Zelda wiped her eyes and kept reading. “Neither of us were strangers to regret—how could it be otherwise with the lives we’ve led? But we had so much sweetness, too. It was worth the sorrow. I hope he remembered that at the end.”

I did, the Shade whispered. Of course I did.

“She would want you to find peace,” Zelda told him gently.

She…she would. Yes. I believe it’s time.

His form was blurring around the edges. Link blinked hard, finally allowing his tears to fall, and searched himself for the right words to give the spirit of his predecessor, who had fought so hard and lost so much, who had returned to help him take down their common enemy.

In the end, all he could say was, “Thank you.”

The Shade looked down at the portrait, then at Link and Zelda, huddled together in the graveyard with tears in their eyes. Write a happier story, he told them as he faded slowly into the mist, replaced by a golden wolf that bounded towards freedom.

Wind gusted through the courtyard, so sudden and so strong that Link wrapped his arms around Zelda to keep them both anchored to the earth. When he raised his head, the tears had dried on his cheeks, and the Hero’s Shade was gone.

Zelda brought the portrait closer, turning it around to study the golden-haired woman. Though the only crown she wore was a simple circlet of rubies, there was something in her proud shoulders that made it clear she was a queen. Her forehead was creased with worry lines, but her smile was bright, and her eyes…

Link took Zelda’s face in his scarred hands, meeting her gaze: the color of an early morning sky, after the dawn dwindles and a new day begins. No wonder he’d known her so instantly, so naturally. And that was before he understood what it was like to love her, to be graced with the trust she found so hard to bestow, to unravel the parts of himself only she could understand.

Maybe she was thinking the same thing, for she pressed a soft kiss to the scar on his cheek.

“I wouldn’t choose anything else,” Link breathed when he finally found his voice. “I—no matter what happened before, or what happens next…”

“I wouldn’t either.” Zelda held the portrait close to her heart, and though her eyes were her ancestor’s, that small, precious smile he’d first fallen in love with was all her own. “She was right. It was worth the sorrow.”

.

.

.

[fanfics4world]

Chapter 2 - Night Encounter

Skye's room was plunged in gloom, illuminated only by the silver moonlight filtering through the velvet curtains. The air was heavy with anticipation as Skye stood in front of the mirror.

The long-tailed black gown fitted her figure like a second skin. The white corset, delicately embroidered with silver threads, enhanced her waist and highlighted her cleavage. Mother-of-pearl buttons glittered along the bodice, and Skye made sure each one was perfectly fastened.

Black leather trousers clung to her legs, and tall white boots completed the ensemble.

Her hair was pulled back in a low bun with 2 side braids, exposing the silver piercings that adorned her right ear.

She also wore earrings from which hung a small diamond heart on a silver chain.

Skye looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting the white corset carefully. The moonlight outlined her figure when she heard a voice behind her.

"Where are you going all dressed up at this hour, your highness?"

Skye pursed her lips. The damned smokeball always appeared at the worst time. Through the reflection in the mirror, she saw the Cheshire Cat, Chessur, his smirk hovering in the air.

"Why don't you evaporate somewhere else, Chess?"

The cat blinked, as if considering the question. Then his smile widened.

"Because, my dear Skye, this is my favorite place to pop up. Besides, where would the fun be if I didn't bother you at the most inopportune times?"

Skye rolled her eyes. Chessur always had an answer for everything.

She turned to confront Chessur, but he was gone. Only a faint trail of smoke remained. It was then that Chessur appeared leaning on her shoulder.

"So, are you going to tell me where you're going, princess?"

"None of your business."

Chessur decided to get on her nerves, standing in front of her. "I'm not sure the queen feels the same way," he said.

Skye gritted her teeth. There were limits to her patience. She drew her sword quickly and tried to cut the cat in half, but it vanished again, leaving Skye cutting a faint trail of smoke.

"My, my... What a temper," Chessur replied behind her. Skye was sure that someday this damn cat would drive her crazy. She sighed and sheathed her sword again, turning to confront Chessur.

"You're not going to say anything to the queen, or anyone else, not a word. Because if you don't, I swear on the jabberwacky I'll find a way to evaporate you forever."

Without waiting any longer, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving the cat and his floating smile behind.

After her confrontation with the Cheshire Cat, Skye moved stealthily through the corridors of the palace. The moon still illuminated her path, and every shadow seemed to whisper a secret to her. The doors to the guest rooms were closed, and guards patrolled the corridors.

Skye remembered a secret passage she had discovered years ago. It led to the library, where a seemingly ordinary bookshelf concealed a back door. Knowledge of that passage had served her well on more than one occasion.

Her heart pounding, Skye reached the library. She pushed the bookshelf carefully, revealing the hidden door. The passageway was narrow and dark, but Skye advanced without hesitation. The damp air and smell of antiquity enveloped her as she descended a stone staircase.

Finally, she emerged into a garden behind the palace. She could not risk taking a horse from the royal stables; if any of the guards noticed that any of the horses were missing, her plans could go wrong.

So she started walking towards the border through the forest, going through the village would be quicker, but also riskier.

The forest closed in around her, the trees forming a canopy of leaves that barely let the moonlight through. Skye plodded forward, the crunch of branches beneath her boots echoing in the stillness of the night. But she was not alone.

She didn't need to turn to know who it was. Bander was following her. His yellow eyes glowed in the shadows, and his dark fur blended into the undergrowth.

"I know it's you, Bander."

With a sigh, Skye turned, facing the imposing animal. Bander emerged from the trees, his gaze sad and his ears flat. He looked embarrassed at having been discovered.

"What are you doing here, Bander?" asked Skye.

Bander let out a soft grunt, as if searching for the right words. Skye knew he couldn't speak, but his expression said more than enough.

"No, you're not coming with me," replied Skye, Bander tried to put on his best puppy dog eyes, which made Skye smile. She reached over and petted him. "Sorry big guy, but I can't let you near the Queen of Hearts castle, it's too dangerous" Skye said, Bander whined, clearly disgusted by the answer. Skye sighed.

"Fine, you can accompany me to the border, but nothing more, then go home," Skye said, and Bander wagged his tail, happy with the deal. Bander was about to give her a lick, but Skye jumped away.

"Not today big guy, I have to make myself presentable for Bridget," replied Skye, "Come on, let's go, I have a dance to attend."

The walk to the border was quiet. Skye looked down every so often to check that her outfit looked good, she wanted to impress Bridget. There was something about the encounter that morning, something that made Skye feel different, it was the first time in a long time that she felt like she really lived, that encounter felt real, Bridget wasn't pretending, she wasn't looking to get close to her for her power, considering she was a princess too.

Skye had grown up in a home marked by expectations and perfection, a home where she didn't fit in, because to her mother's chagrin, she wasn't perfect. She was impulsive, rebellious, adventurous and always getting into trouble or looking for trouble, and in a world where perfection was demanded, she was the only black dot on a sheet of paper.

But Bridget's feelings were genuine, after all, she had asked her to her mother's ball. How could she refuse, how could she say no to experiencing that feeling of reality again.

When they reached the border, Skye said goodbye to Bander before approaching the secret passageway in the wall, covered by a curtain of ivy that concealed an opening in the border.

She still remembers how she discovered that escape for her life, it was a day like any other, she had argued with her mother, who wanted to organise a dinner with her court, and wanted Skye to wear one of her tight dresses with hundreds of unnecessary jewels, instead of wearing her usual leather jackets and comfortable clothes.

"You have to look presentable for once Skye. Is that so hard?" she said. "Behave like a princess for once and pretend, if only for one night, that you're part of royalty, part of this family."

That was the last straw, Skye ran out of her room, ignoring her mother, who was shouting her name, and escaped from the palace, managing to easily throw off the pursuing guards.

She ran into the forest, letting her feet guide her, she was too angry to think of a place to go, then she came to the border wall. And that only made her angrier, she knew there was no escape from her world, no place to run. They had closed the door on her freedom, limiting it.

In her outburst, she threw a stone at one of the ivy-covered areas of the wall, but it didn't bounce off, it went right through.

Skye, confused, reached over, and with her hand moved the ivy curtain, there was a hole, big enough for even Bander to fit through.

She looked back for a moment, hesitant to cross to the other side, but perhaps this could be the doorway to the freedom she desired. So she stepped through the gap in the wall, eventually finding another curtain of ivy, hiding the hole at the other side.

And when she stepped through it, her breath caught. The landscape was beautiful, full of vibrant colours, something she never thought she could see.

She knew that crossing the border meant she was in the Kingdom of Hearts, but she didn't care, this was her escape route to freedom.

From that day on, crossing the border into the other kingdom became a regular occurrence, day or night.

Now she was facing her secret entrance, no longer crossing the border to explore, she was crossing the border to meet Bridget at a royal ball, with that girl with the pink hair and the smile that Skye wouldn't mind seeing every day of her life.

She was worth the risk.

Bridget stood in front of the mirror while one of her maids finished adjusting her dress.

It was a light shade of pink, sleeveless, with a ruffled skirt that came to just below her knees. It had a flower pattern in a darker shade of pink. Bridget was nervous, she hoped this dress would impress Skye.

She didn't even know why she felt this way, but she wanted to surprise Skye. Her thoughts drifted to Skye's figure, that snow white hair, her blue eyes that lived up to her name, her melodic laugh, and those lips that-

Bridget blushed and cursed herself for thinking about such things. It hadn't even been a day since she'd met Skye, but there was something about her that made Bridget want to see her soon, to hear that laugh every day, and to feel something inside her warm up again knowing that she'd made that angelic sound.

Bridget smiled unconsciously, drawing the attention of a new figure in her room, she had been so deep in thought that she hadn't noticed who had entered.

"You seem very happy today, my dear."

Bridget looked through the reflection of the mirror at her mother, who was watching her with a mixture of affection and curiosity. Bridget couldn't help but blush.

"I'm just happy for the ball," Bridget replied, there was no way to explain to her mother that her happiness had been brought about by a certain white-haired princess who had crossed the border to explore her kingdom.

Her mother hummed at the answer, she knew her daughter was like a radiant sun, full of kindness and joy, but this joy was different, she was excited, and she was sure there was more to it.

"Is there someone waiting for you tonight?" her mother asked. Bridget didn't want to lie to her, so she decided to blurt out a half-truth. "Maybe," she merely replied. Which made her mother raise an eyebrow curiously, a knowing smile on her face.

"May I know who is?" her mother tried. Bridget smiled, "I'm afraid not, besides, I don't know if she'll show up, I invited her to the dance, but she might not come, maybe she doesn't think I'm worth it, maybe-"

Her mother got up and walked over to her daughter as she raved. She held her face in her hands, interrupting Bridget's monologue.

"Darling, I assure you that any second with you is completely worth it, and I am sure that if she knows how to value you, she will show up, and if she doesn't, it's because she doesn't know how to see the best when it's right in front of her. And in that case, I want first and last name," her mother said.

Bridget hugged her, melting into her mother's affection. 

After saying goodbye to her mother, Bridget finished fixing her hair, preferring to let her wavy pink hair fall over her shoulders. She carefully placed her tiara on her head, and smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

Bridget fiddled with the hem of her skirt as she waited in the palace gardens. The ball had already begun, and she stood for a while greeting the court and her mother's guests, then wandered away from the crowd towards the gardens, but not before receiving a knowing glance from her mother.

She stood in front of the small palace pond, fireflies flew over the water and the sky, making it look like she was surrounded by hundreds of lights.

"Wow cupcake, you have to stop stealing my breath if you want me to live."

Bridget turned to look at Skye, and in that moment, she was the one who stole Bridget's breath.

Her eyes roamed Skye's figure from head to toe, the black long-tailed suit fitted her figure as if it was made just for her. The white corset, delicately embroidered with silver threads, enhanced her waist and highlighted her cleavage, causing a slight blush to form on Bridget's cheeks.

Black leather trousers clung to her legs, and tall white boots completed the ensemble.

Her hair was pulled back in a low bun with 2 side braids, exposing her full face, and damn, if Bridget already thought Skye was beautiful, this only doubled her thoughts.

"I hope I didn't take too long, it took me longer than I expected to dodge the guards," said Skye as she approached. And it was then that Bridget became aware again of the reality they were in, their worlds were separated by a border, their families were enemies and even this sneaking meeting was a reflection of the rift that separated them.

The sound of music coming from the ballroom was like an echo, but it was loud enough to keep up with the rhythm of the song.

"Well, what do you say princess, may I have this dance?" Skye made a graceful reference as she held out her hand for Bridget to take.

Princess… Even though Skye had called her that before, there was something in her tone, something that Bridget was sure that if what Skye wanted to get her as hot as an oven, she was getting it.

Bridget, with a slight blush, accepted Skye's hand. "It will be a pleasure, your highness," she replied, the nickname making Skye giggle, a light, melodic laugh for Bridget.

Oh girl, you're going to be my ruin.

Skye pulled Bridget to her, her hands finding their place on Bridget's hips, and Bridget's arms tightened around Skye's neck, as if they were two pieces of a puzzle that had just fit together.

They began to dance, moving to the music, as if the whole world had disappeared and only the two of them existed.

For Bridget, each step was a revelation. She felt the firmness of her grip and the gentleness with which she guided her. Her thoughts swirled, wondering how someone who should be her enemy could make her feel so safe, so understood. Every turn and every movement seemed synchronized, as if they had been dancing together all their lives.

Skye, for her part, couldn't take her eyes off Bridget. The light from the lanterns reflected in her brown eyes, and her smile was a beacon in the darkness. Skye caught herself wishing the dance would never end. In that intimate moment, she realized that Bridget could understand her in a way that no one else did.

The garden faded around them, and only the two of them were left, moving in perfect harmony. Bridget could feel Skye's heartbeat, and wondered if Skye could feel hers. The closeness was intoxicating, and for a moment, Bridget forgot all the tensions and conflicts surrounding them.

Skye was lost in her thoughts as well. Every time her eyes met Bridget's, she felt a deep connection, as if their souls were destined to meet. The music, the garden, everything faded in comparison to the intensity of that moment. Skye knew she was crossing a dangerous line, but she couldn't help it. She was drawn to Bridget in a way she had never experienced before.

The dance continued, and with each step, Skye and Bridget grew closer, not just physically, but emotionally. In that magical garden, under the light of the fireflies, they found a refuge in each other's arms, a place where they could be themselves without fear or reservation.

And so, as the music continued to play and the stars twinkled in the sky, Skye and Bridget realised that, despite everything, they seemed made for each other. In that intimate moment, dancing in the garden, they found a connection that would change their lives forever.

Bridget felt an irresistible urge. She leaned into Skye, their lips about to meet. Skye did the same, their hearts beating in unison, anticipating the kiss they so desired.

"Well, your highness. This I didn't expect."

Skye and Bridget broke off abruptly, turning to see the Cheshire Cat hovering behind them, his trademark grin lighting up the darkness. The moment had faded, but the spark between them still burned.

Oh... Skye was definitely going to evaporate this cat.

"What are you doing here Chess? I think it was pretty clear from our conversation that what I had to do was none of your business," said Skye.

Chessur evaporated, appearing over Bridget's shoulder. "In our conversation you forgot to mention that you had a date," Chessur replied, looking at Bridget with his trademark smile.

"I'm sure that went into 'None of your business'" said Skye. At that moment all she wanted was for the damn cat to disappear and resume her interrupted moment with Bridget.

"Well, your highness, I'm sorry to interrupt your moment, but I thought you should know that your mother knows of your absence and has deployed the royal guard to search for you," Chessur replied, Skye sighed, to her chagrin, she knew she had to get back.

She turned to Bridget, who was clearly not amused that her moment was going to end so soon.

"It's been a pleasure princess, but I must return to the White Kingdom," Skye apologised, a sad smile on her face.

Bridget nodded. "I understand," she said. Skye walked over to her and grabbed her hand. "Tomorrow I'll probably have a lot of explaining to do, but I want you to meet me in two days at the place where we first met" she said. Bridget felt a spark of hope ignite inside her at the promise of another meeting with Skye.

"I'll be there."

Skye smiled before she leaned closer to Bridget and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "I'll be waiting for you, princess"

Skye disappeared into the darkness, the night hiding her like camouflage. And Bridget stood there, her hand reached for the spot on her cheek where Skye had kissed her, she couldn't stop a smile from spreading across her face, their moment may be over too soon, but the promise of that new encounter was enough for her.

Little did Bridget know that that secret meeting hadn't been so secret after all, a pair of eyes watched her from one of the palace balconies.

"Would you like to explain to me where you've been Skye?" her mother asked.

After crossing the border, Skye had intentionally let herself be found by her mother's guards near the castle. And they had taken her to the throne room, where her mother, with a tired look from staying up and a look that Skye knew could only mean one thing, disappointment, was waiting for her.

The room was adorned with silk tapestries and furniture carved from ebony wood. The throne, with its high back and embroidered cushions, stood in the centre. Her mother sat there, her snow-white gown contrasting with the dark velvet of the throne.

"I couldn't sleep, I went for a walk around" Skye lied, her mother sighed. "Out for a walk? Dressed in a halfway acceptable manner?", Skye couldn't help but roll her eyes, for once she was dressed up, even her mother didn't think it was good enough.

"Where did you go Skye?" her mother asked, she got up and started to walk over to her.

Skye lied again, it was clear this wasn't going to end well. ‘I was strolling through the gardens. I needed some fresh air.’

But her mother didn't believe her, "You can't lie to me. That's not the behaviour of a future queen" she said, it was clear that was all she cared about.

Skye pursed her lips, feeling the tension in the room. "I have done nothing wrong, mother"

Her mother watched her, her expression implacable. "Where have you really been? With who?" she asked, beginning to get fed up with her daughter's attitude.

"It's none of your business"

She should definitely look for a better answer.

Her mother grabbed her arm tightly. "It is! You are my daughter, and not only that, you are next in succession to the throne of the White Kingdom. You can't keep behaving like this. You must live up to your position" she said. 

Skye clenched her fists, feeling anger bubbling up inside her. "Live up to what, your impossible expectations? I don't want to be like you, mother. I don't want to be queen"

Her mother grabbed her by the collar of her robe, her voice low and dangerous. "You must learn to rule, to make hard decisions. You can't spend your life wandering the kingdom and doing as you please" she said.

Skye let go, her gaze defiant. "I don't want to rule like you. I don't want to be a puppet in your hands. You've always wanted to mold me in your image, but I'm not yours"

The sound echoed through the room, and Skye felt the sting on her cheek, it hurt far more than Skye remembered.

She holds herself in place, her cheek burning and her chest aching as she fights her instinct to cry.

She won't give her mother the pleasure of knowing she made her cry.

"I wish you hadn't been my mother. I wish I had not been born in this kingdom"

Her mother grabbed her by the wrist, her eyes defiant. "This isn't over, Skye. You can't escape your destiny"

Skye let go abruptly. "Yes, it is over"

And without looking back, she stalked out of the throne room, leaving her mother staring blankly into the darkness.

"So Princess Bridget of Hearts? It's clear you like danger your highness" said Chessur, Skye watched him through her dressing table mirror as she finished removing her hair, the red mark on her cheek was evident, it stood out thanks to her pale skin, but if Chessur saw it, he preferred not to say anything.

"For your sake Chess, I hope you keep your mouth shut" growled Skye.

But we were talking about the Cheshire cat, for whom not telling a secret was as irresistible as a ball of wool.

Masterlist

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being frustrated with my dad's procrastination and finally calling him out on it?

I (25 f) live with my dad (50ish? Too mad at him rn to check, m) because of mental illness rendering me unable to work due to lack of treatment, until now.

Recently, after I had to be taken to the emergency room for a ruptured ovarian cyst that I'd needed checked out for years prior to it popping, I decided on a whim to bring up my mental illness during the follow-up with my doctor, which put me on a very fast track to getting diagnosed with severe ADHD and prescribed medication (more specifically 5 mg of Adderall twice daily). And let me tell you, holy shit, it was like a miracle, I didn't even know medication could act that fast.

Well, long story short, it fixed my time blindness and made me consciously aware of my dad's long-standing bad habit of perpetually putting things off until "next weekend", affecting several major things both recently and not, including my ovarian cyst that I knew I had for years but couldn't go to the doctor for on my own because my car was perpetually in use by my sister or broken down, picking up my prescribed medication for said ovarian cyst because my car broke down ages ago and he never taught me to drive a stick, fixing my car or paying someone to do it for that matter (I can't afford it on my own), teaching me to drive in the first place when I came of driving age, my prior autism diagnosis (which itself took years to ever get done), several attempts at homeschooling that fell apart because we both forgot about it simultaneously, at least one broken bone that I can remember, and yes, the ADHD that I could only get diagnosed because I piggy backed off of an actual medical emergency.

Needless to say, I am not happy about that, so with my new executive function in hand, I confronted him. I basically laid out that I didn't think it was normal to procrastinate that badly for years and that he should consider getting evaluated for ADHD too because it's hereditary and I had to get it from somewhere, and added that if they put him on Adderall too it might help him write his book.

However, my dad accused me of talking like an addict (it's only day 2) and threatened to call the doctor and make him change the dose or take me off Adderall (my dad can't do that and I'm contractually obligated to stop him if he tries). When I pointed out that the dose I was given isn't even remotely enough to cause an addiction this early and that it felt like he was upset with me for being able to confront him now, he told me to back off and that I was acting like a jerk, and he demanded I talk with my doctor about alternatives (my doctor very specifically had me start on Adderall because he didn't think anything else would be effective--and given my understanding is that the alternatives would make every other brain function as bad as my memory and executive function so they're not as bad in comparison and not even fix the lethargy and excessive sleeping, uh, I think I agree). Note, he doesn't usually act like this at all.

I know that Adderall's side effects include irritability and I've always been bad at self-evaluation when I'm mad, so I've decided to take to the Internet to ask--aita?

What are these acronyms?

[winter-leftovers]

Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter sixteen: Welcome home (16/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Y/n reunites with her old lover.

Word count: 1305

Warnings: this can be a stand alone 👀 a little of angst (casi na), fluff, also after this all chapters may contain Wizards spoilers so I’m assuming all of you watched it 🤨

(Season 2 Episodes 7, 8, 9 )

Song?: Mine by Taylor Swift

Previous - Extras - Next

Masterlist

Y/n laid across Douxie’s couch, her naked feet dangling over the back. She quickly switched the page of her book, her eyes swiftly moving over the words. She had gone to Douxie’s apartment for their lunch date but he wasn’t there, neither was Archie. She had sat at the couch with her book to pass the time almost eight hours ago and there was still no signs of her boyfriend.

For some reason, the quietness of Douxie's apartment had created the perfect atmosphere to concentrate and read the book Douxie had borrowed her. The book was perfect. All the different tales, the characters, the way the author had written the story, all of it spoke to her in a way she thought was impossible. Every single word would bring a comfort to her soul she hadn’t felt in a lifetime.

“I told you: you should never turn your back to a shadow mephit” a man said behind the front door.

Y/n sat down, closing her book and turned towards the door. Was it Douxie? Was he bringing a friend?

“I’m sorry? You wanted the blood goblins to eat you?” Douxie asked. He was out of air, he didn’t sound good.

‘Blood goblins?’ Y/n squeezed the book ‘It can’t be’

The door opened revealing a Douxie covered in blood holding his left side alongside an unharmed Archie.

“Douxie? What…What happened?” Y/n tossed the book to the side and ran to Douxie’s side.

“Y/n?! What are…” he hissed when Y/n tried to see the wound on his side.

“I’m sorry” she pulled her hands back.

“What are you doing here?!” His right eye opened in surprise, his left eye was so swollen he couldn’t see from it.

“We were supposed to have lunch” She answered, more focused on trying to get him to the couch.

“Oh. Oh” he sat down “I totally forgot. I’m sorry. I…”

“Douxie” Y/n crouched down in front of him, her brows furrowed with worry “I need to know what happened”

‘I need to know what you know. If you know’ she thought.

“Ehm…” He looked to the side, to Archie who sat on the other side of the couch and back to her “Y/n…I was…”

“Don’t…Don’t lie to me. Please” she gently squeezed his knee.

The silence was deafening. The two of them were looking at each other, scared of breaking the silence, of being the one saying the words that may change everything.

“Archie! Are you here?” Al voice sounded out of Douxie’s room.

Y/n turned to the room’s door. She felt her heart falling to her stomach.

“Arch! Do you know why there are blood goblins running around Arcadia?” Al emerged from the room “Ugh! Douxie, you look bad. Oh! Hello Y/n” he scratched his ear.

“Alfred” Y/n whispered.

“What?” He whispered back “Oh! Everything is finally back to normal? Great!” He ran to Archie and sat next to him “I’m glad you could remember, Y/n. Good for you, Doux. If I had to keep hearing you crying because you miss her I would” he stopped laughing “Why is no…”

“She didn’t remember, idiot” Archie hit the brown cat with his paw.

“Hey! that was claws out” Al cried.

Y/n felt the water raising. She looked back to Douxie, to his eyes. Suddenly everything made sense. The blue light, the boy, the warmth in her chest, how she always ended up coming back to him. She closed her eyes and she saw him across time, across the years, it was always him. Back as children when she twisted her ankle, he carried her home; back as teens when some absences were heavier than before, he was always there; when the war took everything from her, he was there, holding her hand. She opened her eyes again and saw him, his beaten up face full of worry.

She stretched her hand out and caressed his cheek. He gave into the touch. A soft red glow healed his wounds.

“Douxie” she whispered, tears falling down her face “My Douxie, how could I forget you?”

A sob escaped Douxie’s lips, making him fall from the couch to the floor in front of her.

“I’m sorry, Doux. I’m so sorry” She grabbed his cheeks and her thumbs cleaned the tears that fell unapologetically.

Douxie shook his head “You’re here now”

They smiled.

“And I’m not leaving again” she kissed his nose.

“Please” he plead and kissed her, full force. His hands pushing her waist against his, trying to get her as close to him as he could.

Y/n’s hands went to play his hair, innocently tugging:

“In moments like this I don’t miss the man bun at all” She joked between short kisses.

“Don’t remind me” Douxie groaned in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.

“I’m really sorry” she apologized again as Douxie kissed down her jaw to her neck “You've been alone all these years…”

“Don’t” He pressed their forehead together “We can talk later” he kissed her cheek “But, right now, let me hold you, please” he kissed her other cheek.

Y/n nodded with a smile on her face.

Douxie lifted her from the floor and took her to his room. Both of them lay there, only illuminated by Arcadia’s night lights, holding each other tight, making sure that this time, nothing would separate them.

—

Y/n opened her eyes. The soft morning light illuminated Douxie’s face staring back at her.

“Morning, darling” he smiled.

“Good morning, Doux” she smiled back.

His face in this light reminded her of her teenage years. The two of them hiding away in a room built of stones when the world was harsher and they were much softer.

“What are you thinking about?” He stroked her eyebrow.

“About how handsome you are” she kissed his nose.

He chuckled, trying to ignore the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“I was thinking about us back home, about…Camelot” she said.

‘Camelot’ the name felt so strange in her lips but it didn’t make it any less true. She was born on Camelot, she fell in love with Hisirdoux Casperan the XIV on Camelot, that she remembered but not much more.

“Camelot?” Douxie raised his brows “How much do you remember?” He lifted himself up.

“Not much” Y/n chuckled and sat up “It’s all so blurry still”

“How about…about that night?” He looked down.

Y/n sighed and gave him a half smile. Of course she remembers that night, the night she lost him. She remembered the slam door, the rain, the pain.

“I…I remember leaving. Slamming the door and running into the rain” she chuckled and turned to him, Douxie’s eyes were full of worry, focused on her story “then I don’t know what happened…It’s all bright and then…dark and then, I’m in Jim’s father’s car and I’m a child again”

Douxie got closer, if that was possible, and put his arm around her.

“I swear, I didn’t leave you” Y/n put her hand on his cheekbone, her eyes full of tears “I love you too much to lea…”

“I know. I know. I love you too” Douxie grabbed her hand from his cheek and kissed it “At first, I was scared you did leave me…and, then” he smiled “ Al, who never stopped looking for you, came back saying you were cursed and I’m still not a master wizard…” he looked down to his hands.

Y/n chuckled. He turned to her hands.

“What good is being a master wizard” she lifted her right wrist where her staff rested “if I couldn’t break the spell all those years ago?”

Douxie sighed and rested his head on top of Y/n’s.

“I’ll fix this, Doux” she played with her bracelet.

“We’ll fix this” Douxie put his hand on to of her’s.

A/n: I almost fell asleep without uploading 🤪 anyways after this chapter I’ll be uploading the hc as a thank you for no killing me for no updating last week 💖

[her-power]

The End of All Things (Part Four: e.m. x fem reader)

TRIGGER WARNING & C/W: 18++++ MDNI!!! Sweet! Eddie, hurt/comfort, grief, talk of grief, fluff, heavy drug use, suicidal thoughts, talk of death/dying, lots of crying, lots of swearing, some smut, unprotected p+v, trauma

Part One: Denial Part Two: Anger Part Three: Bargaining

Summary: Relationships are tested, choices are made, words hurt, and you might end up kicking Eddie Munson's ass. Full plot summary is on part one of this series.

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: I also submitted an original sketch in this part. It's been years since I have drawn something so it's not great and I fucking forgot how hard it is to draw hands and draw a person lmao but I wanted to give you guys a little added bonus to this series.

A/N #2: This part was a bit rough for me to write, but also super healing in a way. I felt like I was looking into the eyes of all of my friends as I was writing this and just remembering things after so many years since losing my mom. Part Five will be released after the holidays, I need a bit of a break to be with my family and be prepared for the griefy feels. I love you all, thank you for giving me a platform to be creative and to heal. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eddie was pacing in the break room of the record store; inhaling deeply on his cigarette as he tried to gather his thoughts. The trip back home was uneventful, you had stayed at the Inn in Philadelphia for a night again. He had noticed a change in you after the cemetery. It was subtle changes; you would be unusually quiet, but then you would snap out of it and that big, beautiful smile he loved so much would appear. You were tired a lot; Eddie had noticed the bags under your eyes as the weeks went by. He knew you weren’t sleeping. Even when he would stay in the same bed as you, he knew you only pretended to be asleep. When you thought he was asleep, he would hear you rummage around in the kitchen, or go sit out on the porch, smoking a joint. 

Then it hit the two-month mark, and you were starting to terrify him. Summer was almost over, you had lost interest in things you loved to do, like painting, singing, reading. You would go to work, come home, stay awake, sleep, and then go to work again. 

Eddie would try to get you to talk to him, but you would shut down, blocking out anything and everything around you. 

He plops on the chair, his leg bobbing nervously, cigarette dangling out of his mouth. He stood up and started pacing again, he couldn’t sit. 

Eddie had called the realtor two weeks ago; she had a kind voice and gave him useful information and advice when it came to potentially buying a house. He was also curious why there weren’t any hits on the house, it had been on the market for a while and parts of it had been redone but no one was interested in buying it. She told him it was a mystery to her as well, there was nothing aesthetically wrong with the house, the foundation was perfect, the roof was brand new, but no one seemed to care for it. The owners had lowered their price five thousand dollars under the asking price, and there was still no jump. 

He had been saving money here and there for a couple years; he would call it his emergency fund. But when he had saw how you looked at your childhood home, how your eyes lit up with nostalgia and joy, he knew what he had to do. 

He was doing everything in his power to get enough money for the down payment on the house; he had mentioned the plan to your father. Eddie had thought he would think he was crazy, that neither one of you could afford to live in a house, let alone a mortgage. Instead, he asked Eddie how much he needed. Eddie didn’t want anything, he told him, just support. Your father then said something to him that he will never forget. 

“I have two loves in my life: my wife, and my daughter. Some people aren’t lucky enough to have that happen to them. Some dad’s leave, some do stupid shit and some die. I love my daughter with all my heart, but I don’t want her to feel stuck here. I don’t want her to worry about me or worry about what my future holds. I don’t want her to stop her life because her mother died. I’m gonna be okay. I’m going through it, and I’m always going to, but I’m okay. I’m practically an old man, I lived my life, and it was beautiful. It’s still beautiful, but I’m not gonna fully rest until I know that my daughter will be okay. And if she stays here, she won’t be.” He swallows, taking off his glasses to clean the lenses. “Now, I’m asking you how much you need not as a charity. But as a man, looking at a kid I watched grow up to become a man and fall in love with my daughter, who has been by her side through all of this. Wiped her tears, fed her, laugh with her. My daughter loved that house, and the fact that you didn’t even hesitate to call the realtor speaks volumes just what kind of man you are. You want to see her happy, and you are a big part of her happiness. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to love my daughter. I know her mother would agree. So, you’re gonna tell me a number, and I’m gonna do my best to give it to you. Don’t fight me on this.” 

Eddie had almost sobbed right there; it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to him. He told him a number, and your father said to give him two weeks. Part of him still didn’t want to take it, but he knew if he didn’t, your father would give the whole thing to the realtor. 

He had lit up another cigarette and blew his bangs out of his face. He had called you a few hours ago; you had the day off and planned on taking a nap. Eddie had told you he had found this certain type of acrylic paint you had needed and asked if he wanted to pick it up for you. You had thanked him but said no, and the rest of the phone call was uncomfortable silence. 

“Munson!” Sully’s booming voice comes echoing into the break room. 

Eddie sighs. “What?” 

Sully peeks his head in, his large frame would intimidate most people, especially since he had an enormous throat tattoo, but Sully was a big teddy bear. He was a businessman second, and a father to two beautiful little girls first. “You good, kid?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He inhales on his cigarette and puts it out in the ashtray.

“Any word from her?” Sully was asking about you, and Eddie had told him he spoke to you a while ago. “How’s the money saving going?” 

Eddie had told Sully about his plans, and he was more than onboard with it. He said he was close to the owner of the record store on Newbury St in Boston, that he had put in a good word for him, and the owner was more than happy to welcome him into the store when he was ready. The record store in Boston was two floors, both floors had rows of records, and the bottom floor had a little sound stage where locals would perform for a monthly open mic night. 

Eddie had gone back on the floor with a tote of jazz vinyls, he sat in the aisle and organized the records by artist. Robin had come to visit, had sat on the floor with him, passing him each artist he asked for. 

“I’m worried about her.” Robin says suddenly, looking up to meet Eddie’s eyes. Eddie glances at her and goes back to moving around the vinyls, swallowing hard. 

“Me too.” Eddie says softly. 

“Has she said anything? When I saw her at the Hideout last week, she looked like a walking zombie for Pete’s sake.” Robin looks up at him, he shook his head, staring at his hands, the skull ring on his middle finger. He fingers it gently. “Are you alright, man?” 

“Not really.” He laughs tiredly and looks at her. “She won’t talk to me about how she’s feeling. She’ll talk to me about everything else but that.” 

“What happened at the cemetery?” She asked gently. 

Eddie shakes his head, running his hands over his face. “A breaking point, I think.” 

“Jesus.” She mutters. “What do we do? Intervention? Get a priest? I don’t know how this shit works; I’ve never had someone close to me die before. Is there a rule book? Do we just not say anything and let her be stubborn and just slowly disappear until she’s whittled down to nothing, and we just glue her back together and tell her we love her but what if at that point it’s too late and we can’t—"

Eddie kneels in front of Robin, gently holding her face. “Hey, breathe, dude. Deep breaths.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to her.” Robin tells him quietly, her eyes filling with tears as she looks at her friend. “Why did this have to happen?” 

Eddie caresses her head, gently patting her and pulls her in for a hug. “I don’t know.” He mutters. He was so tired of saying it, tired of saying he didn’t know, because it sounded so fucking simple, but it wasn’t. 

“Why doesn’t she want to talk to us? We’re her friends, she shouldn’t have to suffer alone.” Robin looks up at him and he sighs, gently knocking her chin. 

“I’m going over there after work. I don’t care if she hates me, I need to at least get an idea of what’s going on.” He leans back against the shelves, leaning his arms on his bent knees and Robin wipes her face. 

“How are you holding up?” Eddie looks at her. “With all of this? Losing her too?” 

Eddie gives her a sad smile. “Would you believe if I told you I was fine?” 

“No.” She smirks at him. 

“It’s a surreal feeling honestly.” He realizes he hasn’t spoken about this with anyone, even you. “The only time I ever experienced some sort of loss was when my dad went to prison, but fuck him, he can rot there for all I care. But he’s still alive, she’s not. I’m still trying to process how someone can be here one minute, living, breathing, and then just be…dead.” He shrugs, realizing he’s crying and quickly wipes his tears away, he almost laughs. “See? I don’t even notice I’m crying, it’s stupid.” 

“No, it’s not.” Robin says, reaching over to squeeze his knee. “You’re going through it too.” 

“Yeah, but I feel like I shouldn’t.” He sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “She wasn’t my mother.” 

Robin gives him a sweet smile. “No, but she was the next best thing to you.” 

He sighs, shaking his head, another tear falls down his cheek. “There’s just so much pain in her. I can feel it.” 

He points to his heart, “I see how much pain she’s in and I want to take all of it, so she doesn’t have to, I’d rather suffer with it for the rest of my life, then watch someone like her go through that when she didn’t deserve it. Her mother didn’t deserve to die. I guess no one does, even the shitty ones.” 

“Nah, the shitty ones deserve it.” Robin laughs and Eddie chuckles. “You really love her, huh?” 

Eddie nods and he sighs, looking into her eyes. “I have to tell you something.” 

Eddie tells her his entire plan, about the house, about your father helping him with some of the down payment. He told her about going to see your childhood home, how it’s been on the market since June, and no one is interested. He told her that if his plan works, he’s gonna ask you to marry him the first night you sleep in the house, and that was the first time he has said it out loud. Robin cried happy tears, followed by punching him in the arm. 

“You guys are leaving me!” 

“Ow!” Eddie laughs, rubbing his arm. “It’s not even set in stone yet.”

“Dude, you know it’s gonna be!” Robin smiles, pulling him in for a hug. “I’m happy for you, but I’m gonna fucking miss you, man.” 

Eddie kisses the top of her head, rubbing her shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll miss you too.” 

“Steve is gonna be devastated.” 

“Nah he’ll be fine.” Eddie jokes. “Yeah, I know. His little boy is growing up.” 

“That sounds so gross when you say it like that.” 

                             ***

Eddie had driven to your house after closing the store; your car was still in the driveway and the outside lights were on. Your father had gone to Jimmy’s for the weekend, and he had called Eddie at the store to make sure he planned on going over there. Your father didn’t say it, but he was worried about you too. 

Eddie walks into the house, hearing the television playing in the living room. He peeks his head into the living and sees your form curled up on the couch, a knitted blanket over you with your hood over your head. It was freezing in the house, Eddie had saw you set the air conditioner to 60 degrees. The only source of light was from the television, it was nick at nite and I Love Lucy was playing. Eddie notices the three empty beer bottles on the coffee table, a half smoked joint, and a bottle of aspirin. He quietly clears the table, dumping out the remaining beer from the bottles in the sink and tossing them in the recycling. He washes his hands and heads back to the living room; he squats on the side of the couch where you were laying, leaning forward to kiss your cheeks softly and caress your head. You stir, opening your eyes, meeting Eddie’s and you smile softly. 

“Hey baby.” Eddie says sweetly to you, rubbing your cheek. 

“Hey.” Your voice is groggy, and you sit up a little, stretching. “What time is it?” You pull your hood down, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

“A little after ten. Go back to sleep, I just wanted you to know I was here.” He kisses the top of your hand, and you lean into him to kiss his lips. 

“No, it’s okay, I feel like I haven’t seen you.” You lay back on the couch pillow, reaching out your hand to cup his cheek. Eddie put his hand over yours, and scans your face, he hated how tired you looked. Your hair was in a messy braid over your shoulder, you looked like you had been crying for hours before he got there. 

And your eyes.

Eddie inhales a shaky breath as he looks in your eyes and sees that the light that was once there, was gone. You notice his staring. 

“What?” You ask with a smile. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, getting up and sitting next to you, lifting your legs to drape them over his lap. “I just missed you today.” 

You smile, reaching over to entwine your fingers. Eddie leans his head back on the couch, gently rubbing massaging circles around your thighs as you both stare at the television. 

Eddie feels you shudder under his touch, so he stops. 

Apparently, you didn’t want him to stop, because the next thing that happens is you straddling him, pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He holds your waist tightly and groans when you grind yourself against his jeans. You pull off your hoodie, wearing only a lace bra and you deepen the kiss again. 

Talk to her, idiot! Eddie is saying to himself, and he moans in response when your teeth graze his throat. She knows exactly what she’s doing, she’s avoiding, she knows how she looks, stop kissing her and talk to her! 

Eddie’s conscious screams at him but he continues to kiss you, continues to touch your skin. His skin prickles with goosebumps when your hand touches his stomach above his jeans. Your hand slides down into his pants, grasping his hard length in your hand and Eddie moans loudly.  

You’re a stupid fuck! Snap out of it, dummy! 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Eddie finally says breathlessly against your lips. “Stop, stop.”

You pull away from him, removing your hand as if it burned. You stare at him with confusion and concern that you may have hurt him. Eddie runs his hands over his face, leaning forward on his knees. “We need to talk.” 

“Don’t like that.” You say softly, laughing a little, your heart was racing. 

“No, it’s not that kind of talk.” Eddie gives you a sad smile, taking your hand in his and rubbing his thumb over your skin. “You’re starting to scare me.” 

You pause, staring at his face. “What? What do you mean?” 

Eddie looks at you, really looks at you. “You know what I mean.” 

You pull your hand away from his and he sighs, he can already feel you pulling away, he can see it in your eyes too. “Eddie, I’m fine.” 

Frustration rose in his chest, and he wants to laugh but he doesn’t, he scoffs instead. “Is that a lie you’re telling me or telling yourself? Do you really think you’re fine?” 

She blinks, her eyes already widening with tears. “I’m not lying, Eddie.” 

“When was the last time you ate? When was the last time you did something you actually enjoyed? Because for two months, you have been disappearing in front of my eyes.” His own tears were filling his eyes, and he blinks them away. “You need to talk to me.” 

“And say what? What do you want me to say, Eddie?” You raise your voice. 

“Fucking anything!” He gets up from the couch and paces. You watch him with sad eyes. “Jesus Christ; I know you’re hurting; I know you’re in pain, I can clearly see that but all I’m asking is for you to talk to me. I told you I’m here for you, but instead you’re pushing me away!” 

“Okay. You want me to talk? Let’s talk.” Your bottom lip trembles as you look up at him and toss your hoodie back over your body. “Every single damn day I am praying that I don’t wake up in this life, and I wake up in the next because I am tired. I am so tired, Eddie. When I sleep, I don’t feel this fucking throbbing pain in my chest like I feel right now. When I sleep, I have dreams instead of nightmares now and I see her. I see her and she’s alive and I want to stay there. I physically cannot stand to look at myself in the mirror because of how fucked up I look. I don’t tell you these things because it’s not your fucking job to heal me, it’s no one’s job.” 

Eddie stands there stunned, his fingers clench around his chest, a lump forms in his throat, and a breath escapes him. “You’re telling me, that every day you pray you don’t wake up? How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?!” 

“You wanted to talk!” You snap at him. “You wanted the truth so I’m telling you!”

Tears form in his eyes as he stares at you. “Do you have any idea what that would do to me if I lost you? I mean, fuck, I feel like I’m almost there just by how you’ve been lately. It would destroy me if something happened to you. It would kill me. And you pray for that every day?”

You stand up from the couch, grabbing the joint from the table and lighting it quickly; you inhale and let the smoke billow from your nostrils. “I don’t want to die Eddie.” 

“Then what the fuck are you saying to me?!” He yells, tears spilling from his eyes. 

“I’m saying I don’t want to feel this pain anymore! If I could cut it out of me without bleeding out I would do it! If I could swallow a bunch of pills just to get rid of it and be okay, I would do it! I don’t want to die; I want to kill this part of me that feels all this pain and guilt and fucking grief and just be done with it!” You yell at him, hot tears stream down your face. “So yeah, I pray for it.” 

Eddie runs his hands over his mouth, a small sob escaping him as he stares at you. “Why haven’t you told me this?” His voice is so full of pain, it kills you. 

“Because it’s not your job to heal me.” 

“It is if I want to spend the rest of my life with you!” He cries and your breath hitches. “Fuck! I want it all with you. I want you; I want the marriage, I want those babies with you, I want a fucking house in the suburbs with a damn dog! Hell, maybe even a cat. But I meant it when I said that when I look to the future, you’re in it. And right now; I feel like you’re telling me you don’t want any of that.” 

“Of course, I do.” You say quietly, averting your eyes, wiping away your tears. 

“I don’t think you do.” Eddie’s hand goes over his heart again, feeling it slowly break. 

“You’re not inside my head, okay?” You snap at him and point to your temple. “It’s a fucking mess in here. Why would you want to be with someone for the rest of your life who can’t even take a shower? Who has a devil and angel on her shoulder, one telling her it’s okay to feel all this pain and the other telling her, grab those drugs from a few months ago! You won’t feel a goddamn thing!”

“Hold on a minute, you told me you didn’t have any left.” He was big mad; you could see it in his eyes. 

“I lied.” You meet his eyes, and he lets out a laugh. 

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do and hate to break it to you, sweetheart. It’s not gonna work.” He wipes his eyes and his nose. “Did you do it?” 

“No.” You whisper. 

“Go get it then.” Eddie sneers and you look at him like he slapped you. “If you want to do it, numb your pain that way, fucking doit. I’ll do it with you. It will be a Kodak fucking moment.”

“No. Eddie what the fu—" 

“Why? You want to kill that part of yourself, right? Why don’t you kill it slowly with the drugs? Better yet, I’ll go find the guy that supplied the shit that I had, and I’ll go on a fucking ride.” He heads towards the door, tears still running down his face, his eyes wild. You follow him and grab his arm. 

“Eddie, stop it! That could fucking kill you!” 

“Just a small part of me.” Eddie says, his tone cold. 

You let go of his arm, eyes narrowing. “Oh, fuck you!” 

“Stings, doesn’t it?” 

“What are you doing!? Why are you acting like this?!” You yell through your tears. 

“Because you’re not the only one who lost her!” It’s out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Your eyes are wide, glistening with tears. He stares at you, rubbing his palm over his lips. “I cannot imagine the pain you feel right now. But I look at you and I can feel it radiate it from you, every single day. The light in your eyes is gone. And it’s because you choose to suffer with this grief alone.” 

You step back from him, shaking your head as you stare at him. “You know what? You need to go. Get out.” 

“You think I’m gonna leave after what you just told me? You’re out of your mind.” He crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You are a fucking asshole!” Your eyes are wide, wild. You open the front door. “I don’t care if you sleep outside in your van, you need to get away from me!” Tears are pouring down your cheeks as you throw open the front door, you look up at him. “You promised me you wouldn’t push. You promised.” 

“I guess we’re both liars then.” His big brown eyes match your same wild ones, and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Please. Just go. Go away.” 

“I’m not leaving you.” Eddie says through his gritted teeth. 

“I want you to! I don’t want to see you! I don’t want to be in the same room as you! Get the fuck out of my house! Get out or I’m calling the fucking cops!” 

He stares at you hard. “You wouldn’t do that.” 

“I wouldn’t? I’ll just say the magic words, town freak, right?” 

His breath hitches and he felt his heart snap in two. Those words have haunted him for five years, and you used it as ammunition, you aimed, and fired. He looks out to his van and then back at you, his face turns from sadness to full on anger. “Fine. Go ahead and suffer alone.” 

He walks away from you, you slam the door shut, and slide down to the floor. Your breathing accelerates and you sob into your hands. You did it, you actually did it. You just took the last ten years, wrapped it up in a ball and threw it in the dumpster. 

Eddie hops into his van, not even bothering to put his seat belt on and peels out of your driveway. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, he just drives. His heart was pounding, behind his eyes stung, he felt like he had his entire body was vibrating. He passes the Leaving Hawkins sign and keeps driving until he’s on a dark stretch of road; he pulls over to the side and turns the car off. He leans his forehead against the steering wheel, his breathing picking up, his hands grip the wheel in a white-knuckle grip. He leans back, punching his dashboard not once, not twice, but three times, and he screams, the sound so guttural, so full of pain, full of anger. “Fuuuuuuck!!!!!!!” 

He sobs, hard. His body trembling as every single emotion that he had bottled up these last few months finally made its way to the surface. He shouldn’t have pushed, he knows that, but he’s glad he did. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have known how bad you were hurting, but it didn’t matter now. You told him to go, so he did.  He takes a cigarette out, lights it and inhales, his breath trembling as the smoke comes out. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore, he needed to feel something else other than this pain, and he felt like a goddamn hypocrite when he turns on the van, driving to Indianapolis to a spot where he knew he’d be able to get rid of his pain.  It didn’t matter now, none of it mattered, he was just pulling the strings to his own destruction. 

He completely disassociated on the ride to the city; he doesn’t even remember putting on music. He goes down a side street, trying to remember if he’s in the right spot, and when he sees the neon BEER sign, he knew he reached his destination. He only knew about this place because of his dad, he had brought him here when he was last out of prison. In every corner of the bar, someone was snorting something, drinking something, smoking something. He parks the van and gets out; as soon as he opens the door to the bar he is hit with aromas of weed, cigarette smoke, and stale beer. It wasn’t that crowded, and Eddie was glad. He sits on the stool at the bar, the bartender was an older woman, maybe in her late fifties, with kind eyes and a sweet smile. 

“What can I get you, honey?” She asks sweetly, placing a napkin in front of him. 

“Whiskey, please, straight.” He hands her a twenty-dollar bill, which she hesitates to take, but does anyway. 

She places the glass in front of him, and he brings the rim of the glass to his lips, knocking the whole thing back. He winces at the bitter taste and twirls his finger around asking for another. She refills his glass, and he nurses this one. 

“You look like you’ve been trekking through a war zone there, sweetheart.” She tells him gently, leaning against the bar, shining a glass. 

Eddie meets her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“I’m not gonna pry, I’m just not sure if you’ve come to the wrong place or the right place.” She gently pats his hand and goes down to the other side of the bar to talk to the other patrons. Eddie glances around the bar, and his eyes fix on a booth in the corner. There’s a man speaking to a woman with their heads bowed, she couldn’t have been much younger than Eddie, she was strikingly beautiful, but had very sad eyes, he notices the exchange. The man had put something in her hand, and she walks away from him, leaving the bar. The man notices Eddie staring and nods at him with a smile, Eddie nods back, looking away from him.  He stares at his glass, twirling it in his fingers, the brown liquid moves side to side as he stares at the glass. He turns his head to look over his shoulder, the man was still there, quietly sipping his beer, looking up at the television that had some sort of sports game on. 

Eddie knocks the rest of his second drink back and gets up from the stool. He feels the hair prickle on the back of his neck as he walks towards the man. The man looks at him and smiles, leaning back in his seat. He looked like a washed-up version of Robert DeNiro, a little intimidating, otherwise he seemed nice. 

Eddie takes out his hand and the man takes it. “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

“Leon.” He sounded southern, Eddie thought. “What can I do for you?” 

“I don’t know, what do you got?” Eddie asks, already feeling the effects of the drugs that he didn’t even take yet. That’s how much he loved it the first time he tried it, and that was by accident. Again, it didn’t matter anymore. 

Puppet. 

“Uppers, downers, china white—"

Pulling the strings.

“How much for the China white?” 

Destruction. 

Eddie had driven back to the county line outside of Hawkins and had parked in an abandoned fishing spot. The only source of light was from the moon reflecting off the pond, and he opens the square. Leon had told him that if he wasn’t going to shoot it, he’d have to go slow, a small bump. Eddie hated needles, despite having all his tattoos, he couldn’t understand how someone could willingly stick a needle in their arm. 

You’re about to snort it, you stupid fuck. What’s the difference? It’s still heroin.

Eddie takes a cassette from under his seat, he didn’t even bother to look at who the artist was, he was gonna throw it out anyway. He sprinkles a little bit of powder on it, no bigger than his fingernail and takes a rolled-up dollar bill. With no hesitation, he’s snorting it into his air ways. He grunts, his nostrils stinging, and a wave of nausea hits him. The cassette tape falls out of his hands, and he feels the vomit hit the back of his throat. He pushes his door open with his shoulder, vomiting all over the ground. He leans his body onto the door panel, wiping his mouth, coughing a little and that’s when he feels it. His eyes flutter close, and he feels a smile grace his lips. 

“Oh shit.” He whispers, feeling the euphoria coursing through his blood stream, his nervous system, everywhere. He tries to think of something, think of you, think of her, and he felt nothing. Puppet. Strings. Destruction. He practically drags himself into his driver seat and slams his door. He reaches for the bag of powder, blindly finds the dollar bill and snorts again. He laughs when he lifts his head up, it falls back onto the headrest. Before he knew it, it was all gone and he was smoking a cigarette, his eyes half lidded, his head nodding to the side. He would jump awake, inhale on the cigarette and nod out again. He was just resting his eyes, he told himself. 

When he opens his eyes again, he’s in your driveway. He sits up straighter, seeing that it was still dark outside. How the fuck did I get here? He pushes the front door open and practically falls out. He holds his head, the sudden pressure from getting up too fast making him dizzy as he stumbles onto your front porch, pushing your door open. He calls your name, but you don’t answer. He notices the stillness as he stood there, noticing all the lights were off, there was no sound. He suddenly felt sober, and his feet take him to the center of your living room. The light from the bathroom came through the door that was ajar, and all he hears is the sound of his own breathing and his footfalls. 

He pushes the door open slowly with his palm, the hinges squeaking, and he sees you lying there. You’re on your back, your head tilted to one side, arms splayed out, unmoving. 

A groan escapes him, a sound that started from the very depths of his soul. His body falls against the door, and he falls to his knees. His body felt stiff as he crawled to you, hot, angry tears were pooling from his eyes. 

“Nooo…” He groans, his hand shaking as he turns your face, your eyes in a fixed stare. He inhales deeply, cupping your face. You just have to kiss her, and she’ll wake up. That’s all, like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. 

Eddie kisses your lips gently, his tears falling to your cheeks, and he lifts his head. You still lay there unmoving, no breath from your lips. His mouth falls open in a gasp as he looks at you, and his body shakes with sobs. He stares at your face, he couldn’t understand what was happening, why this was happening. 

“Please come back to me, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said, please.” He cups your face, smoothing back your hair; you were so cold. “Just wake up now, and we can start over, that’s all. Just wake up…please!!!”  He cries and cradles your limp body to him, trying to figure out something, anything that will get you to wake up. He kisses your cheeks, your hair, your forehead. 

His head falls back, and a loud, guttural wail escapes his lungs. “Nooooooo!!!” 

“Nooooo!” Eddie screams himself awake. The sun was beating down on him in the van as he catches his breath, looking around, panic and fright in his wide brown eyes. He was still parked at the pond. He feels bile rise in his throat and barely gets the door open before he’s violently vomiting on the ground. His vomit from the night before inches from where he stood. He wipes his mouth, his skin sweaty, damp. He squints in the sunlight and holds his stomach. He was still high, but functional, his logical part of his brain working faster than it did last night. 

“Fucking idiot, Munson.” He says to himself, and then he remembers his dream. A breath is caught in his throat, and he scrambles himself back in the van, he starts it up, throwing it into reverse and speeds out of there. He was dry heaving on the way to your house, having to stop only once to pull over and vomit again. 

He almost forgets to put the van into park when he screeches into your driveway. He almost falls out and scrambles up the steps, your door was unlocked. He doesn’t bother closing it when he runs in and shouts your name. His blood ran cold when he didn’t get a response from you, and he screams your name again. He runs into the living room, his breath caught when he sees that the bathroom door is ajar like in his dream. His heart pounded and he felt his hands shake: it was just a dream, it wasn’t real. Just a dream. 

The door squeaks open, and you walk out, towel drying your hair from taking a long hot shower. A whimper escapes his lungs, and he startles you. 

The towel falls from your hands as you stare at him and he stares at you, he’s looking at you like he’s seeing a ghost. You immediately notice his features, his pale face, his eyes wide with panic, almost black. He was sweaty, and your hand goes to your mouth to hold back your cry, you knew immediately what he had done and part of you felt responsible. 

There was desperation on both of your faces, and the two of you crash into each other, sobbing and holding each other. Eddie holds your face in his hands, kissing you over and over, his tears mixing with yours. 

“You’re here.” He kept saying and you weren’t sure why. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.�� He cries holding your face and you shake your head, sputtering, you can feel your face flush as you caress his face, his hair, staring into his eyes. 

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have had you leave. I didn’t do the rest of the drugs, I got rid of them, I flushed them. I didn’t do them, I swear.” Panic is in your voice, and he holds onto your waist tightly as you keep touching him, keeping him upright. 

Eddie feels his heart split in two and feels the guilt bubbling up in his chest as his head falls to your shoulder and he sobs. You hold him there, rubbing the back of his head as you both sobbed. “I fucked up last night, I’m so sorry. But I needed to not feel anything. I thought it didn’t matter, I thought I lost you forever and I couldn’t…couldn’t handle losing another person, I couldn’t handle that pain. There’s so much of it and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” 

You pull away and hold his face, shaking your head as you give him a small smile. “We have to feel it, I realized that after you left last night. That’s one of the only ways that lets us know that she was real, that the pain is real; that our love is real.” 

“How do you not hate me?” His lip trembles. “After everything I said, after what I did.” 

“Because I love you. No matter what and that’s a hard fucking pill to swallow when you realize how much you love a person, even when you’re so fucking angry at them.”

You run your thumb along his lips, and he smiles softly. “When you left last night, I wanted to die. I was awful to you, I pushed you away because I thought your life would be a lot less chaotic without me in it. And then…” You inhale deeply, your voice shaking. “Then I felt her. I felt this warmth, this blanket of pure comfort and I just let it consume me. Everything poured out, I thought my guts were gonna shut down and I would be stuck in a loop of constant tears forever, but I let her in, and she stayed awhile.” 

Eddie laughs a little as tears continue to fall from his eyes, he caresses your face, your hair and kisses you softly. “I love you.” He whispers to you. 

“I know.” You smirk up at him, wiping away his tears. 

He kisses you again, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, letting out a sigh of relief. You hold him tight, rubbing his back and arms. 

He takes a shower soon afterwards; scrubbing the last night away until his skin felt raw, and he swore he rubbed off most of his chest tattoos. He finds you in your room, and he walks in with no shirt, and just his jeans. His wet curly hair stuck to his chest. You’re sitting upright, sketching in what looks like your mother's sketch pad. 

He sits on the edge of your bed, glancing down at the book. “You’re sketching?” 

You look up at him and smile; you were just doodling. Some wildflowers, eye shapes, your hands. You didn’t feel ready to paint yet, and you forgot how much you loved to sketch. You couldn’t force yourself to be happy, but you could try to be a bit more human. 

You feel his eyes on you and look up again. He’s smiling that sweet smile, his dimples large. He still looked a little high, but he was less sweaty, less jumpy. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to feel once it was completely out of his system. Would it hurt? He wondered. But he realized he didn’t care if it did, he deserved to feel that pain.

You close the sketch pad and put it on your nightstand, you scoot closer to him, you drape your legs on either side of him while he kneeled. His hand reaches up to caress your face, your lips, and you pull his mouth towards yours in a sweet kiss. You lay back, taking him with you, he cups your face, his other hand going to your leg to hook around his waist, the kiss deepening. His lips travel to your throat, leaving a soft trail of kisses there and to the center of your chest. You sigh lovingly at his touch, and he lifts up your shirt, leaving soft kisses on your tummy, around your navel and ribs. He feels you shudder at his touch, and he pulls you up, peeling your shirt over your head. You were naked underneath, and he kisses you again. The tips of his fingers glide up your arm, leaving goosebumps to prickle on your skin. You grip his forearm, and gently move your fingers up and down as he kisses your neck, slowly moving down, leaving soft kisses around your breasts, and taking your nipple into his mouth, gently sucking. Your back arches and you moan; he goes to your other breast, gently kissing and sucking. His hand travels down your belly while he teases your nipples, and he snaps the button of your jeans. He meets your lips passionately again, grunting softly as his hand slides down over your sex and fingers your clit generously. You arch your hips, and he pulls off your jeans and underwear. He hovers above you after taking off his own jeans and rubs your face. He leans down to kiss you, his lips soft. You let out a moan and he grunts when you feel him push himself inside you, your back arches at the feeling, a loving sigh escaping your lips. His mouth stays hovered above yours as he thrusts, and you look into his eyes. His fingertips dig gently into your thighs and a throaty moan escapes his lips.  He caresses your face, kissing your lips softly, burying his face in your chest, licking around your nipple again. You grip his shoulders, moaning loud, the sensation of his gentleness, the grinding of his hips, was enough to get you to scream. Your orgasm was building in your lower belly, but you didn’t want this feeling to end. You held onto it, and flipped him onto his back, riding him gently, your palms on his chest. Your clit rubs against his pelvis, and your head falls back in a whimper. He holds your hips, his head arching back against the pillow. He sits up, holding him to you in the butterfly position, his arms tightly around your middle, his lips against your breast. The tingles in your belly grow, and you clench around him, your head falls back as you cry out in pleasure, your orgasm causing every part of your body to tremble, and tears spring to your eyes. He groans against you as he orgasms soon after you, he holds you to him, still catching up on your breathing and you look into his eyes. His hand caresses your cheek, and he kisses you gently. You push yourself off him so you’re sitting more in his lap, pressing your forehead against his and he hugs your waist.

Staring into his big brown eyes, you give him a soft smile, gently petting his face. “From now on, we need to be honest with each other. No more secrets.”

He shakes his head, smiling at you. “No more secrets.”

“I’m not okay, Eddie.” You tell him quietly, your eyes filling up with tears, he tightens his hold. “And I won’t be for a long time. When she died…I think, I think a part of me did too. That’s where that pain is.” You press your hand over your heart, and he gently kisses the center of your chest. “They say there’s stages of this grief, but I think they’re full of shit. I think you go through each stage, over and over and over again. It’s constant, like a running stream. And I know you’re not okay, either. You were right when you said that I’m not the only one who lost her—”

“Sweetheart, that was—”

“Let me finish.” You smile at him, kissing his nose and he stares into your eyes. “I’m not the only one that lost her. Yeah, I lost the bond that we formed as soon as I was born, I lost the late-night talks and getting my tears wiped away because she was my mother. You lost someone very special to you, someone who showed you love and comfort and a bond that can be so rare to find. I will never take that away from you. Your grief is your grief, not mine. But we can heal together. It's not gonna be easy, it’s gonna be really fucking hard but I plan on doing this with you for the rest of my life. I plan on feeling every single emotion that God or whoever the fuck throws at me, at us. I plan on you being by my side until we’re old, watching our grandchildren grow up, yelling at each other on how to figure out technology because let’s face it, this world is going to be run by machines soon. You are the best thing, the craziest thing, that has ever happened to me, and I’m gonna hold onto that until I can’t anymore.” 

His eyes are filled with tears, and he smiles large, kissing you passionately. You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek before getting off his lap. He lights up a cigarette, inhaling it deeply and stretches. He looks at you with his arm draped over his shoulder, just watching you. He stands up to get dressed but you stop him.

“Wait.” You tell him, grabbing your sketch book. “Stay like that."

"What? Why?” He laughs.

“Shut up, don’t move.” 

He smiles at you and stays still, and you begin to sketch out his form. Eddie suddenly felt shy as he hears your pencil hit the paper, this was such an intimate moment, and he didn’t want to mess it up. You concentrated so hard on what you were doing, and he felt his heart skip a few beats as he watches you, both nude, just the sounds of the creativity coming out of your brain. 

You smiled when you were finished, and Eddie was able to move his limbs, feeling stiff all over. You wipe off the pencil dust and hand it to him. He smiles large, you had captured him so beautifully and he realizes it was true, you saw him for who he truly was. 

Just Eddie. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Autumn had come out of nowhere, and you wrap your sweater tighter around you as another wave of nausea hits you. You had left work early; it seemed like every twenty minutes you were running to the bathroom to puke your guts out. You tried to think about what you had eaten the night before; was it the chicken? Was it the leftover meatloaf you had made for your father’s birthday? Eddie had been very cryptic lately, and it was starting to piss you off. He would ask you questions about what color paint you’d use to paint a kitchen, hardwood or carpet; you would overhear him talking to your father about stuff that had to do with finances, and your father had a glint in his eyes, and you tried to think of anything that could possibly make sense. The nausea hits you again and you run to the bathroom and vomit hard. You swore there was nothing left in your system to vomit but your body had other plans. You lean against the tub, the coolness of the porcelain an odd comfort against your skin. 

Your eyes land on an unopened box of tampons, and a sudden thought occurred to you. Closing your eyes, you think back to when you last had your period; trying to figure out the math was like trying to figure out a formula with Einstein.  Your eyes snap open; it had been over a month since your last period.

A month. 

Nausea hits you again and you grip the porcelain, preparing for the worst but nothing comes. “There’s no way.” You say to yourself and lift yourself up on shaky legs. 

Grabbing your keys, you rush out the door to your car, and go into a local pharmacy. You take the first test you see, and don’t make eye contact with the cashier as she rings you up.  When you arrived home, you were grateful Eddie was still at work, and your father was finishing up a construction job in Ohio. You rip open the test, reading the directions. 

“Pee on it? How the fuck…” Your eyes squint as you look at the small diagram drawing of how to get coat the test in urine. Groaning, you pull down your pants, and do your business, yelling comedically as you get urine all over your hand trying to match the test up with the stream. The directions said you had to wait three minutes for the results, and you sit on the toilet lid, your leg bopping up and down anxiously as you wait. 

Once the three minutes was up, you don’t look right away. Your arm reaches the sink counter, and you take it, looking down at the tiny window. There were two lines, and you suddenly forgot what that meant. You scramble to dig the directions out of the trash, scanning the black ink until you reach the result section. 

One line meant it was negative. 

Two lines meant…

Your hands shake as you stare at the test in your hand, like it was a rare piece of art, and you were trying desperately to see if the picture would move. 

No matter how you look at it, the result is gonna stay the same. 

A smile creeps up on your lips, tears well in your eyes and you cover your mouth with your hand. 

Something happens to you just now; it felt like the Earth shifted right at your feet. Before there was a constant tilt for so many months, now suddenly it was upright. Everything seemed brighter, you felt a dull ache in your chest, but it wasn’t pain, no, it was something different. 

Something warm. 

There was a human being growing inside you. Yours and Eddie’s baby. Your father’s grandchild, your mother’s grandchild. Yours. A being that had a part of you and a part of the man you loved. Your best friend, your lover, your confidant. 

You were going to be parents. 

You were going to be a mother.