#like SIR THEY MIGHT NEVER HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT DOING THAT IF YOU HADN'T

[svtskneecaps]

all this stream is telling me rn is badboyhalo cannot under any circumstances become president because if he becomes a federation puppet and gets turned against the players or the eggs the ENTIRE server is fucked

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (5)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the support for this fic has been amazing, so trust me when I say that I take no pleasure in all the angst and heartache that follows (or do I?) I'm sorry, readers. I'm sorry, Ewan. We'll sort this out somehow - all my love, Freyja <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

A beginning. A first date. Whispers, sightings abound. Falling in love. A necessary lie. Hearts breaking. An end.

Ewan stands in a studio backlot in LA, bouquet of flowers clasped in one hand while the other is nervously stuffed in his tracksuit pocket.

He's itching for a smoke, but he stops himself from doing so, in some lovesick attempt to keep himself as clean and nice-smelling as possible when he sees you again. He already mentally kicked himself for not dressing better, clad in his staple Adidas blacks. But he couldn't wait any longer.

His flight from New York to LA hadn't been the most pleasant. His mind raced for hours, the thought of you being his only consolation. His meeting did not go well.

But enough of it. There is you, here, now.

In this moment, you are all that matters.

The first couple of workers make their way out the studio doors, chatting enthusiastically despite their tired faces. Ewan shuffles on his feet, keeping an eye out for you. Soon enough, your assistant Clara exits, and he waves in an attempt to get her attention.

"Ewan!" she greets brightly. "She'll be out in a while. Are those flowers?" A blush materialises on her face, and she looks so excited Ewan awkwardly thinks she would take them for herself.

"Yeah, do you think she'll like them?" he asks, giving the bouquet a once-over. The classic dozen long-stemmed red roses, kept together with black-dyed muslin wrap.

"She'll love them!" As if perfectly timed, the doors open again, and they spot you walking out with several of your co-stars. Clara smiles to herself as she walks away to give you two some space.

When your eyes land on him, it's like everything falls into place, the ear-splitting smile you give him enough to quell any worries he might have. You meet each other halfway, melding together in an embrace so tight he nearly drops the flowers to the ground.

"Look who it is," you say, still wrapped in his arms, "the internet's babygirl."

"Just your baby, darling." He pulls apart, but only just enough to look at you. "I missed you."

"Mmm, I can see that."

You're about to comment on the flowers, but he can't hold back any longer.

And so your first proper kiss happens behind an LA studio, adjacent to the parking lot and surrounded by prying eyes. The burnt orange haze of the sunset peers from the horizon, casting a glow on the scene. And it's perfect. His lips are gentle as they dance with yours, his warm breath fanning your face when he breaks apart for mere milliseconds, only to resume the kiss as if he can never get enough.

A moment later, there's a couple of woohoos from a distance, your costars oooing and aahing at the sight, making you giggle against Ewan's lips.

"Shall we, then, darling?" Ewan asks.

"Shall we?" Your brows raise, mirroring his question.

"Our first date." He takes a step back, but only to ceremoniously hold his hand out for you to take. "Will you do me the honour?"

"Why, good sir, are we going on a regular date or some super fancy ball?" you laugh, lacing your fingers with his anyway.

He only smiles, planting yet another kiss on the corner of your mouth. "God, I missed you."

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You can't help but cast glances at him every now and then. Ewan, effortlessly cool as he drives the both of you across LA, with one veiny hand gripping the steering wheel while the other envelops yours on your lap.

His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, and you're thankful for it; you need the comfort because you're growing nervous. A first date.

A first date! And not just with anyone.

"What is it?" he smirks, his eyes finding yours as the car idles at an intersection. There's a smugness there. He caught you staring.

You avert your gaze, a pleasant wave of heat rising to your face.

"Hmm?" he leans across, pecking your cheek and resting his forehead against your hair, eager to get a rise out of you. "I mean, I've been told I'm handsome, darling. You already know, something of a babygirl. But it's even more special that you think so."

The light turns green. You grab his jaw, and lightly push him away, raising your eyebrows. "Careful, baby," you smile knowingly. "Your Aemond is showing."

"Oh, yeah?" The car revs up again, rows of palm trees speeding past in a blur. "Does that - uhh - turn you on?"

Your head snaps to him at his bold insinuation. He gives off an unaffected air, smirking to himself in an undeniably hot what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it way. But you make him nervous too. He swallows, and clears his throat, anticipating your response.

"Maybe," you bite your lip, squeezing his hand harder, "but you don't need to put on your Aemond to turn me on."

"Just me, then?" he chuckles lowly, feeling lighter.

"Yup," you shrug. "But if you ever wanna put on a blonde wig and an eyepatch, I won't stop you."

"For when, darling?" Oh he knows what you meant. It's been a constant on his mind too. He's lost count of the nights when thoughts of you consume him, and what happy news it is that you might have been going through the same.

"Mmm... " You look out the window innocently, but you guide his hand higher up on your thigh, allowing his fingers to splay open and squeeze at the flesh covered only by the material of your jeans.

A minute passes. Driving past a street of exclusively only mansions and expensive cars. Then downtown, low-rise buildings as far as the eye can see. Another minute, slow and steady.

Then he says, "You're going to fucking drive me insane, baby."

A soft sigh escapes your lips. "Well, you started it."

He sneers, accompanied by a humourless shake of his head. "I think you overestimate my self-control." The air is thick, but it's quickly diffused when he pulls into a clearing. You realise you're out of the main road, the car slowly coming to a halt in an empty lot beside a low brick building.

"We're here, darling," he says, but he gives you a look that clearly means this matter isn't over. You have something of his, and he's going to claim it.

He half-jogs over to your side, opening the door for you and taking your hand in his.

"Where are we?" The building is nondescript, with a plain white facade, a small cafe and a laundromat on street level, both of which happen to be closed.

"Had to call in a favour from an old mate of mine. His family moved here from Derby a couple of years ago, and they own that laundromat over there," he explains, leading you inside through a door in the side alley.

You're met with a narrow flight of stairs and he gestures for you to go ahead. "What have you got up your sleeve, Mitchell?" you ask, excitement taking root as you climb up to the very top.

It only takes three floors before you reach the heavy steel door of the roof deck. He shuffles to your side, one hand on your back to keep you steady, and pushes the door open which relents with a loud squeak.

You're met with something you have only seen before on Pinterest boards - the rooftop is softly aglow from hanging string lights. In the far side, a screen projector is set up, and in front of it is a low plush sofa cocooned amidst throw blankets and cushions. There's a wooden tray on one on the blankets, containing treats of all sorts and a bottle of wine glistening in its ice bucket.

You take in the magical ambience of the scene with widened eyes. The haze of faint LA sunlight only serves to make everything more beautiful, though it seems hardly necessary.

"Do you like it, darling?" he asks and what a ludicrous question it is. Do you like it?

He continues, "I admit I didn't have to lot of time to set it up, and I had a bit of help but - mmmpph - "

You lace your hands around his neck, silencing him with a searing kiss. He moans unto you, his tongue dipping past your lips as he nearly relinquishes control. He could forget about the set up, the date he had planned, and just take you here on the rooftop. Would you let him?

"I take it that everything is to your liking?" he purrs, watching you in adoration as your head swivels on its own accord to canvas the scene yet again.

You spot something in the corner - a bouquet of fresh flowers surrounded by some lightweight paper lanterns.

"Oh no!" you moan. "The flowers you gave me... I left them in the car!"

He laughs fondly at the sheer panic on your face. "Don't worry about them, my love. I've got more flowers for you here." He points to the bouquet you just saw.

"But those ones... won't they wilt or something? I don't want them to go to waste."

His heart swells at your genuine concern. The furrow between your brows, the way you chew on your lip in worry, your fingers absentmindedly clutching his wrist - it all makes him fall even harder.

"They'll be fine, darling."

"Are you sure?"

He nods once, pulling you in, "Mhmm, just... come here, please." Another kiss, gentler this time.

This is bliss, he thinks, sweet solace after his days in New York, days he aims on forgetting from now on.

You eventually find yourselves on the velvet seat, the tray of food nestled on your laps. He pours wine into the paper cups as you reach for a chocolate-covered strawberry and bring it to his lips.

"Thanks, love," he mumbles with his mouth full.

"Oh, baby, you've got chocolate on there," you motion to his bottom lip.

He sets the cups of wine on the tray, making a move to wipe it off, but just as his fingers hover, his mind takes on an alternative action.

"You do it, then," he leans close, tilting his jaw.

"Okay." With a smile, you begin to oblige him, but you halt when he playfully says, "Not with your hands, darling."

You feel your heart race at his teasing, and at the way he stares at you with blatant desire. Never mind the fact that you were just making out moments ago. The rush of being with him has not subsided. Maybe it never will.

You kiss him, paying mind to the smudge on his lip, licking your own lips afterward to savour the taste.

You pull back slightly. "All better," you say, patting his cheek lovingly.

"Hmm," he hums, "I suppose I'll just have to make a mess of myself more often."

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Nightfall had already descended when the credits to The Princess Bride start rolling, dotting the sky with twinkling stars.

Ewan has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, before he declares, "If they ever do a remake to this film, I'll only take the role if you would be my Buttercup."

"As you wish," you smile, nuzzling closer against his black hoodie. "I remember watching this when I was a kid. Believe it or not, it was one of the films that inspired me to get into acting."

"Did you wanna be Buttercup, my Buttercup?"

"No," you respond. "I wanted to do what Inigo Montoya was doing. He's so insanely cool."

"Of course you did," he says affectionately, "my darling."

"What about you, hmm? Did you always want to be an actor?" you ask. You might have read an interview of his where he explains something to that effect, but he doesn't need to know that now.

"As far as I can remember, yes. It was always going to be acting for me. Even when everyone laughed it off when I brought it up in primary school." He shakes his head, the once bitter memory reduced to an anecdote. "I... I find purpose in what we do, being able to slip inside different skins, different lives. It allows me to explore the human psyche, you know, and to make sense of all this madness."

You listen intently, in awe at his words and his sheer sincerity. The world is made better with Ewan able to live his passions. And you feel fortunate that his life is one he may be willing to share with you, if everything goes well down the line.

"I almost forgot - you have to tell me about how your big meeting went."

He shifts slightly, eyes darting downward as he pouts on instinct. He realises he can no longer keep the subject under wraps.

You sense his reluctance, and immediately try to soften your approach. It could have gone either way, and though rejection is part of an actor's bread and butter - you certainly would know - there are some instances where you just let it get to you.

"Is this producer as scary as they say?" you ask lightly, poking his chest.

He smiles, but his expression is still clouded. "You know those mafia dons in Scorcese's movies? This guy practically inspired them, I'd say."

"Goodness."

"He did try to give off a welcoming air, but there was still something... sinister underneath."

"I suppose when anyone is afforded this much power..."

"Especially in this industry..."

"Mhmm." Face half-burrowed in the soft material of his hoodie, you tilt your head up at him. "So it was a bust, huh?"

He shrugs, "The role just wasn't for me. It's all for the best, I reckon."

You hold his hand tight, eager to soothe any worries he might have. "That's a shame. They would have been damn lucky to have you."

He smiles, flattered by your comment. "I am lucky to just be here with you, darling."

You smile in return, tilting your lips to his, coaxing him to lean in close and seal the kiss.

And he does.

And this is the most perfect first date there ever was or ever will be.

"Darling?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I've fallen in love with you."

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The next few weeks pass blissfully slowly, you and Ewan caught in the euphoria that only a fresh relationship can bring.

Rehearsals for your upcoming movie had ended, and you get a month off before filming begins in Atlanta. Ewan also stays in LA, keen on spending every waking minute with you. His team takes advantage of the situation, booking him for several interviews and a feature with Esquire. You were more than happy to accompany him - or rather, distract him - on these occasions.

Once, the team even jokes that you had to stay in the other room because Ewan keeps looking over at you behind the camera and forgetting what to say. Ewan, of course, quickly protests. "My girl stays with me," he confidently says.

It doesn't take long for news to spread. Rumours, at first. Allegations bred from blurry fan photos and supposed encounters with yourself and Ewan while out in LA.

They were holding hands!

They're not just friends, I swear. He was kissing her the whole time in the restaurant!

What about her and Jacob? I thought they'd been dating all this time?

House of the Dragon stars spotted on a date in Hollywood!

Headlines. Gossip fodder. Statements made by people who claim to have seen you.

Sure, you do meet some of the sweetest and friendliest fans during all this, who only gush at the sight of their favourite actors getting together.

There are others, especially online, who are less pleasant, accusing you of cheating on your supposed lover Jacob Elordi.

Jacob, already used to rolling with the punches, gives you a call so the two of you can laugh it off together.

"I'm happy for you, mate," he expresses, voice muffled from the other line. "You and Ewan... you guys just make sense. Do you remember that night when he stormed in all jealous like? Holy shit..."

As if on cue, Ewan shifts underneath the sheets from behind you, peppering your naked back with soft kisses. "Tell him I said hi," he whispers, his tone doing nothing to mask his possessiveness.

And so the days roll on, and it couldn't be more perfect.

That is, until the first cracks started to show. As they always do.

You're in a meeting with your publicist Mallory, at one of the many quaint hipster cafés in LA, discussing your upcoming filming schedule and the other things you have booked in between.

"You've got a busy few months ahead, but the film is of course top priority," she says. "It's slated to be the top rom-com of next year."

"That's great, Mal."

"I mean, I think you know that Ewan was meant to lead that romance-fantasy franchise? That's a big deal, and people are saying it'll be bigger than Twilight!" she gestures wildly with her hands. "But since he had a falling out with Bruce Haversham - and trust me, if he ever sets up a meeting with you, you do not want to go against him - what was I saying? Oh yeah, the release for that will be delayed so your film will get prime spot for a summer premiere."

You grow apprehensive at her words. Ewan never got into detail about that meeting, and you didn't really want to pry. But if that producer's reputation is indeed accurate, it doesn't bode well for Ewan's career that he might have done anything that displeased him.

With a sickening dread, you realise that Haversham might have something to do with Ewan failing to book the two films he went for in the past month. Despite the fact that the local casting director practically raved about his audition, and stated that he pretty much had both of the roles in the bag.

"Mal, you know Donna right? Ewan's publicist?" you ask, knowing that she and Donna are under the same agency. "Does she talk to you about Ewan at all? About what went down in New York?"

"A little, honey, yes," she admits. "But about that meeting, I thought you would know. He didn't tell you?"

"Not in too many words, no. Just that it didn't work out, and that the film wasn't meant for him."

"Oh, I see," she smiles, almost ruefully, like she feels sorry for you. That look compels you to ask, "What do you know, Mal? Tell me."

Her hand reaches and clutches yours atop the table. "From what I heard, he refused the role because of you."

"What?"

"It's rare with young actors like you guys, to be so devoted so early on."

Growing impatient, you say, "Mal, please, what are you saying?"

"Look, I don't know the details of it. But apparently Haversham wanted him to get into a PR stint with his love interest for the film, and to hide whatever real relationship he has going on with you. This ordeal was going to be more restrictive than the arrangement you have with Jacob, which is more or less over at this point."

"I didn't know that," you whisper hoarsely.

"Honey, don't worry about it," she consoles you, taking a sip of her coffee. "Like I said, I don't know much. I can get you in touch with Donna if you want to speak with her? I'm 100% positive it's not all bad. There's one thing we can be sure of, at least!"

You look at her expectantly, unable to formulate a guess.

"That boy loves you!"

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With only a few days left before filming, you had begun to make the final preparations before moving to Atlanta.

It's a late night, one laden with anxiety and nervous jitters, and the several shots of whiskey you had just taken do little to keep the walls from closing in.

Although, perhaps, it is better if they do. If they imprison you, even just for tonight, to keep you from whatever it is you plan to do.

It's for the best. I have to do this. I'm doing this for him, you keep telling yourself. You keep repeating the lies, letting them bounce relentlessly in the walls of your mind, until you fool yourself into thinking them to be true.

You had met with Donna a few days prior, and the whole situation was made clear to you. You didn't know for certain when the decision formed in your mind, but it's there, as real as the love you feel for Ewan.

The love you will have to bury.

He picks you up in his rental Rover, after you told him that you wanted to go for a drive. But you ask him to park his car behind the private apartment building where you're staying.

The car grinds to a halt, like a signal for you to get it over with. There is no going back now.

"Ewan... I - " You can't push the words out, more so when he reaches for your hands and squeezes. He looks at you with those eyes, expecting anything but what you're about to say.

"I'm sorry," you try again, and your voice breaks. His face slowly drops, the mood instantly changed, but the worse is yet to come.

"What are you sorry for, darling?" He rubs his thumb along your cheekbone, the sensation willing you to just abandon your plan completely. To abandon the lie.

"Whatever happens..." Just get it over with. "...I want you to know that I'll always be here for you. We are friends first, aren't we?" Peel the bandaid. Rip it off. Let it bleed.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he says.

You sound robotic, emotionless. But one wrong turn and the floodgates may break. There's a lump in your throat and you push it down. Reminding yourself to act - use your fucking acting skills if you actually have any. Now's the time. "We can't be together, Ewan."

There it is, sounding itself into existence, ruining the love you have in front of you.

His hand drops, as if he recoils back into himself. Away from you. It's cruel, but you know you will have to do more damage. You have to make it stick. This becomes clear when he says, "No", with conviction. "No, darling," he repeats. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Ewan - "

"You're not being funny, darling." He tilts his head, testing you, giving you the chance to retract your words and start laughing at your twisted joke. Darling comes out a mockery, something to say out of spite.

He takes a deep breath, leaning back in the driver's seat. "I don't... I don't accept this." He looks straight ahead, his lips pursed and jaw taut. "Fucking... why ?"

"I just... don't think it's going to work out."

"Bullshit."

Your words come out rushed, "You should take that role. I don't want you to hold back just for me. This could be something really great for you, Ewan. This could be it! Most actors pray for an opportunity like that to come along and I wouldn't want you to - "

"That's the reason?"

" - refuse it because of me. So we should - "

"Stop."

" - end this."

Silence. Not a single sound in the near-empty parking lot. No sirens in the distance, no pedestrian chatter. Just slow, heavy breathing in this rental car, both of you looking out the windshield. It feels stuffy all of a sudden, and not in the heated way when your limbs entwined in a jumble in the backseat a mere week ago.

"Please. I... I don't want to end this," he pleads. His knuckles are bone white, harshly gripping both sides of the steering wheel in an attempt to anchor himself. He shakes his head, and with some sense of hope, he says, "I don't care about that role. Okay? It's not the end of the world if I don't accept it. Have some faith in me, darling. I'll make it work. Surely there are plenty of other things down the line."

"Ewan," you whisper. You knew he would say this, which is why you prepared something worse. If that were even possible. You suck on your teeth, pulling on whatever poison you keep hidden away. You sigh and look away, a gesture that lets him know nothing will change your mind. "This fucking PR relationship business... it gets to you, you know? We don't know any better. I for one never expected to feel this way about - "

"About?" he finally turns to shoot you a look of betrayal, the pain in his eyes clear as day.

"I might have feelings for Jacob," you lie, "or I might not, I don't know. But there's something there, and I... I can't let this - us - go on while I'm conflicted about everything. It wouldn't be right."

Nothing about this is right.

But you go on, "I'll be off filming, with him, for a couple of months. And it's only going to make everything more confusing, and it wouldn't be fair to you, I know that - "

"I love you."

It's the first time he ever utters those three words, completely and without any doubt. He says them, despite everything you said before. And he means it.

A tear falls down your cheek, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep the rest at bay.

"I'm sorry," you look at him, in finality, and you want nothing more than to passionately kiss him hard on the mouth, to hold on to him tight and plead for him not to let you go. With your quivering form, you amble out of the car. Every step worsens the weight of what just transpired. His side of the car opens, and he calls for you, but you can't bear to look back.

He catches up to you, breathless and with a wild look in his face. His blue eyes swell with tears, but his brows are scrunched down as if he isn't bothered by them.

"I want you to look me right in the eye and tell me we don't matter. I want you to tell me you don't love me," he says, and it's the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. He searches your eyes for something, anything to hold on to. Part of him is still desperate enough to grasp at straws, on the hope that you will change your mind.

But the other hardened part, has become angry. Indignant. Because how could you do this to him? The only girl he has ever loved. So he needs to hear it from you, clearly. He needs you to drive the final nail on the coffin.

"I do love you," you croak, and you do nothing to stop your tears from flowing freely.

"Darling..."

"But I can't be with you," you turn away, one last time. "Goodbye, Ewan."

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Some time ago, during the meeting in New York...

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden furniture, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot...

(to be continued)

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Update! Read the second bonus chapter here ~

💌 next chapter

HOW DARE YOU, reader. How dare you.

The gif above paints a clear picture of Ewan's heart breaking in the car 🥲 just in case you guys needed a visual aid 🥲🥲

Next chapter - the meeting in New York, the reader's conversation with Donna, and.... we see them move on from each other (?) You know these bloody actors, one relationship in the first half of the year and then another right after...

Feel free to come for me in the comments <3 it was the most heartfelt chapter, after all. Also, let me know what yous want the bonus chapter to be about!

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

"Bad news first, Eddie," Steve sighs as he leans back on his heels, cleaner in one hand and a rag in the other. "They vandalized your headstone again. Good news, I beat Wayne out here so he won't be seeing it."

It's been over a year since they'd had to leave Eddie behind. He'd been cleared of the murders. That had been the easy part, since the Upside Down had exploded out into the Rightside Up. When Vecna started killing people it had been pretty easy for people to realize Eddie was just another victim.

Or so Steve had thought.

Eleven saved them all, the people of Hawkins knew the truth, yet Steve still found graffiti on Eddie's grave.

Eddie's grave is empty, because Eddie's body hadn't been recovered. Too much had happened, no time to mount an expedition to retrieve it, and the gates were closed. Another regret Steve lives with.

Like not taking Eddie's face between his hands and looking him dead in the eye when he told them not to be heroes.

Late at night, Steve sometimes imagines he did just that. Looked him dead in the eyes and said, "there is no shame in running, in living to see another day. Don't be a hero because I need you to be okay tomorrow."

Robin says it's not good for his mental health, these what-if scenarios, but so what?

Steve isn't sure what started it but coming out here to talk to Eddie seems to help him clear his thoughts. He always starts with the bad news, Eddie's voice in the back of his mind. Bad news first, always.

The first time Wayne had caught him out here, Wayne thought he was vandalizing. Had scared Steve half to death being yanked back violently by his upper arm. It didn't take Wayne long for his eyes to process that Steve wasn't holding paint.

"You know my boy?" Wayne always spoke in the present tense about Eddie.

"Not as well as I would have liked, sir," Steve swallowed thickly. It was the start of a friendship, of sorts. Wayne seemed happy to have someone to tell stories about Eddie to, and Steve was happy to learn about Eddie.

Months pass and Steve goes every week.

"Bad news. The new guitarist is mediocre at best. Good news. Corroded Coffin lives on and they finally got a new guitarist."

"Bad news. Robin will not shut up about Vickie. Good news. Robin got that date she wanted."

"Bad news. Wayne had an accident at the plant. Good news, he's okay. I think... this might be weird to you, but I've convinced him to move in, at least until he's healed fully so he's not alone. He's staying in the downstairs guest room. Not that you know where that is. You've never even been to my house... bad news, you've never been to my house. Good news, I really wish you had."

So it goes. Wayne Munson moves in and never moves out. Steve's parents call once, to ask if he wants the house. Steve says yes.

Shortly after, Robin takes a room upstairs. Says she gonna take a year off school before college. The Party moves their dnd games to Steve's giant dining room table. His house is always full but part of Steve feels empty.

"B-bad news," Steve forces the words out around the lump in his throat, "I found out too late. Good news, I'm bisexual. Bad news, good news? I don't know man, the news is I could have loved you. I think I do, but that's the you Wayne and the kids tell me about, so who is to say really."

So it goes.

"Bad news. They're seniors this year, Eds. Seniors! Robin going away to college was bad enough. I don't know if I'll even know how to function when they do. 'Cause they're gonna, you know? They're smart. Too smart to stay in this town," Steve is crying, can feel the tears falling, but doesn't stop them. "I know I should go, too. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. But I can't leave. Wayne's here. You're here. And if I go, who will look after either of you?"

"Bad news. College acceptance letters have come in. They're not even graduated yet. This should be good news, but, heh, friends don't lie."

"Bad news, Eds. I can't remember your voice. I didn't think.... I feel like I remember it but I can't hear it. I want to hear it. I-i need-" Steve doesn't know what he needs, doesn't know how to end that sentence so he just sobs, fingers burying themselves into the dirt of an empty grave.

Wayne gets a phone call one day and says he's gotta go back to Tennessee. Eddie's father -that rocks Steve because while he knows Wayne was Eddie's uncle, he never connected that a father was somewhere out there- Eddie's father, Wayne's younger brother, needs him.

Steve drives Wayne to the airport in Indianapolis. Wayne promises he'll return but Steve won't hold him to that. This is family, and as much as Steve pretends, he isn't Wayne's nephew. Isn't Wayne's family.

As Wayne disappears onto his flight, Steve is left hollow. There's no one left in Hawkins that needs him.

"Bad news, Eds. I think I'm a danger to myself. I keep having these thoughts... like how easy it would be to drive my car into the quarry. Or just slip into the pool and take a deep breath. I don't know who I am, or how to be me, without someone needing me."

Wayne calls and tells him he's coming home. Bringing a guest if that's ok. Steve says okay because he needs to meet the man who taught Eddie how to hot wire a car but not play catch. Also, he hopes to hear Eddie in his voice when they speak.

"Bad news, Eds. I'm too much of a coward to meet your old man. Afraid of what he'll sound like. Because I want him to sound like you so fucking bad it hurts. So instead of being home, I'm hiding here."

And then, a miracle happens.

"Well, I've some bad news for you, too, Stevie. I got my voice from my mom."

[morganwrites12672]

Abandon

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After the worst fight he's ever had with his father, Sam goes to the only person he can for comfort.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: ANGST. John is a piece of shit. Arguing. Crying. Daddy issues.

A/N: Have fun crying!

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Whenever Sam had finally gotten back from visiting her, he hadn't expected Dean and John to be waiting up for him in the small living room of the motel. He awkwardly shrugged off his jacket before tossing it over the back of the couch.

He could feel his father's eyes burning into his skin. John must be pissed off about something. It seemed like Sam couldn't do anything without upsetting the older man. His good mood vanished.

"You have something you want to tell me?" John asked, and Sam just knew. He knew exactly what John meant. There was nothing else that would have his father looking this pissed.

Sam swallowed thickly, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He looked between Dean and John. John looked pissed, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. Dean looked different. He looked almost happy, he looked satisfied. A smug smirk tugged at Dean's lips.

Dean was convinced that John was going to fix everything. He thought that his father would be able to fix this. Once all of this was over, Sam would stay. Everything would work out. If only Dean didn't put so much blind trust into his father. Maybe then he would have realized what would actually happen.

"No sir."

Sam knew that his father wouldn't be satisfied with this response. No, the older man would be pissed off. Nothing Sam said would make it right. No matter what he did his father would still probably lose his shit. This was going to be an argument from Hell.

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" John growled. He pulled something out of his pocket, a letter. Not just any letter though. The letter. Sam's acceptance letter for Stanford.

"How-" Sam didn't get to finish his sentence.

"You applied for Stanford," John said. It was a statement, not a question. The evidence was quite literally being gripped in John's hand.

Sam's nerves coiled in his gut, ready to explode. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. This argument was the very thing that Sam had wanted to avoid at all costs. He wasn't quite sure how he had planned to avoid it though. Telling John might have made it better rather than the older man figuring it out, or being told by someone else.

"I'm going," Sam blurted, standing up a little straighter. He wouldn't keep letting his father walk all over him. He would go to Stanford. After everything he had sacrificed for other people, he would do this for himself. Hunting could wait a few years.

"I just want to-" For the second time that night, John cut Sam off.

"Like hell you are! I won't let you abandon this family," John snapped as he stood. He slammed the letter down onto the table. He couldn't believe the way Sam was speaking. "Would you really do that? Would you really abandon your brother and I?"

"No. Dad listen, I am going to Stanford!" Sam shouted back at John. He wasn't abandoning Dean or his father. No, he was just trying to go to college.

"It's that damn whore," John sneered. It didn't matter that he was talking about his friends daughter, he was also talking about the girl who he thought had been a bad influence on Sam. "She's been putting all of these ideas into your head. She-"

It was Sam's turn to cut John off. Hearing his father talk about her that way made Sam's blood boil. He took a steadying breath. Just yelling at his father wouldn't do any good. He needed to be somewhat logical. Though, he struggled to think of anything decent to say after what he had heard his father call her.

Dean was watching everything go down. Now that he'd seen how this argument was going he might have a few regrets. He'd seen Sam and his father argue, a lot. It had never been this bad though. Hearing what his father had to say about her though, that made Dean regret everything. Being around her was the happiest Dean had ever seen his brother. He couldn't believe that his father would insult her like that. She wasn't a bad influence on Sam, not in the slightest.

"Don't call her that," Sam said through a clenched jaw. "She has done nothing wrong! It was my idea to apply for Stanford. I am not abandoning this family! I'm going to college!"

"Don't you fucking come back! If you aren't going to do the job, and be apart of this family, don't you ever come back," John snarled.

Sam's expression changed in an instant. He felt his chest tighten, panic spreading throughout his body. He knew by looking at johns face that his father wasn't kidding.

Sam grabbed his jacket, the letter from Stanford, and his laptop case before walking out the door. He had a lump in his throat as he walked down the row of motel room doors. Looking around the parking lot, he was thankful that it was empty.

"Sammy! Wait!" Dean yelled, running out of the motel room door after his younger brother. He was panicking at this point. Things weren't supposed to end like this. He couldn't believe that Sam would leave like this.

"Don't call me that," Sam snapped at his brother, not bothering to turn around. "Leave me the hell alone Dean."

The older Winchester brother stopped in his tracks. He had fucked up, everything had went wrong. It was too late now. Sam had clearly made up his mind. There was nothing Dean would be able to do to stop his brother.

Sam walked. And he just kept walking. His jacket protected him from the ice cold gushes of wind blowing. He walked towards the only place he had left to go; her house. She was his escape. He needed her, right now especially.

The disgusting words that John had spoke of her made Sam's blood boil. He walked faster. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, hiding them away from the brisk cold.

She was the best part of his day. Hearing his father call her that, and the way the older man talked about her made him sick. She deserved so much better. She didn't do anything wrong. No, the opposite. She made everything better.

The thought of her smile was only able to hinder the tears building up for so long. Sam only walked faster. His long, gangly legs could only carry him so fast though.

The walk to her house didn't take long. Sam practically ran. His eyes had long ago welled up with tears, he sniffled as he finally spotted her house. He walked up to the front porch and hesitated. It was late. What if her parents answered instead of her?

He didn't knock on the door. Instead, he sent her a quick text asking if she could open the front door for him. He prayed to anything out there that might listen to him that she was still awake. He wouldn't risk her parents coming to the door, even if he knew that they wouldn't be upset.

His tear stained cheeks glimmered in the moonlight. He wiped at his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket, trying to hide some of the tears from view. However, he knew that the second she opened the door that she would know. It would be impossible for her not too.

She could take one look at Sam and read him like a god-damn book. It was nice to be understood like that. Dean and his father had never actually listened to him about anything. He felt like an outsider. He don't feel anywhere near like that around her.

His train of thought was interrupted as he heard the click of a deadbolt sliding open. The front door creaked open. Standing in the doorway, there she was. Her pajama pants hung low on her hips, exposing a small section of her waist before her tank top covered the rest of her skin up. She looked tired as hell, yet she still gave Sam a gentle smile.

She stepped aside wordlessly, letting Sam into the house. Her eye brows drew together in concern as she noticed his tear stained cheeks. As Sam stepped inside, she quickly (and quietly) shut the door. The dead bolt snapped into place.

As she turned around she noticed that Sam had already began walking to her bedroom. Her house was more like a home to Sam than any other place. He did spend a lot of time here. Not that her parents minded.

Her parents loved Sam. They had always welcomed him in with open arms. And, they ignored all of the times they caught Sam sleeping over. They just appreciated that their daughter was spending time with someone her age. Having such a an odd lifestyle made it difficult to maintain friendships.

Whenever she walked into her bedroom, Sam was already sitting on her bed. His head was titled downwards, his eyes seemed to be locked on her rug. She noticed that he had discarded his shoes and jacket already. His jacket hung on the back of her desk chair, and his shoes sat in the corner of her room.

She sat next to Sam and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He shuddered beneath her touch. More tears burned at his eyes and he fought to keep the emotion out of his voice as he spoke

"H-he found out," Sam whispered in a fragile voice. With anyone else he would have cringed at how vulnerable he sounded. He sniffled again, trying to prevent the tears from pouring down his cheeks again.

Her heart dropped. She was suddenly wide awake. That was the worst possible thing that could happen. She still remembered how excited Sam had been to show her his acceptance letter. All of that excitement had been ruined by John.

"Oh my God. . . Sam-"

"I'm still going to S-Stanford," He looked up at her as a few tears finally escaped down his cheeks. "My dad. . . my dad told me not to come back."

She didn't hesitate before pulling him into a tight hug. It was awkward since they were both sitting down but she didn't care in the slightest. Sam broke down in her arms. Hot tears poured down his cheeks.

"It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay." Her voice was gentle, the polar opposite to how his father had spoken to him earlier.

It was moments like this that made Sam realize how lucky he was to have her. He wouldn't know what to do without her. Especially tonight. His heart has been brutally ripped apart by his father, now she would work on helping him pick up the pieces.

They were always there for each other. It was something that could be so very simple that most people didn't notice it. The way that Sam would subconsciously reach for her anytime things went South, the way she always seemed to find her way into Sam's arm after a case or fight with her parents, the way she always made sure Sam had somewhere to go.

And yet, the two had stuck with the title of best friends. Neither one of them wanted to change it much, not yet anyway. There might have been occasional thoughts that definitely weren't the kind you thought about friends though.

Her warm touch brought Sam back to the present moment. It reminded him that things didn't have to be so bad. He might have lost his father, and maybe even Dean too, but he still had her.

"You can stay here until you leave for Stanford."

Sam' head jerked up. That was months away. He had planned to- he actually didn't know what he had planned to do. He would have figured something out though. No matter how hard it was.

Sam cleared his throat, "No, I can't ask your parents to do that."

"Too bad," She retorted. "You live with us until you leave for Stanford." Her voice was firm and left no room for argument.

Her parents would understand. They always did. Even if her father and John were friends, she knew that her mother would be able to persuade her father into letting Sam stay with them. Her mother was good at doing that. Nobody could say no to that woman.

"Thank you," Sam whispered. He then rubbed his eyes, wiping away the tear streaks. It would never make sense to Sam. He couldn't believe that she cared about him this much. He was a black sheep with his family. He was the one who caused problems and didn't belong. He didn't feel that way here. He felt just as much apart of the family as she actually was.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. She kept her arms wrapped around Sam. He felt like her arms were the only thing holding him together. His own father had just kicked him out! Sam couldn't believe that Dean had shown the letter. It hurt.

None of that mattered right now. He couldn't go back in time to fix things. He had to live with everything that had just happened. He had to figure it out.

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. He could get through anything with her by his side.

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A/N: The biggest thanks to @tranquilitybasegrunge and @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles for beta reading parts of this for me!

Tag List: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @aidansloth @jaredpadonlyyyy @zeppette @moonl1ghtsworld @tranquilitybasegrunge

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[vikkirosko]

Okay, I have an idea: Alastor, Striker, Blitzo, Sir Pentius and Andrealphus with Reader, who's from Royal Elite, but have quite different personality: kind, peaceful (although not afraid of fighting if it's the only choice), never shows elitism or prejudice towards others, willing to help others. Bonus if Reader very loves various animals.

Headcanons White crow among the elite

📻 Alastor x Reader 🎙

Alastor was familiar with unusual sinners. The aristocracy of Hell had nothing to do with him, just like with other sinners. You were the exception. You and Alastor met by chance. You literally bumped into each other on the street and, as it turned out, you had to go in one direction, so a conversation ensued between you. He quickly realized that you weren't a sinner, and that you were most likely an aristocrat

You turned out to be not what Alastor thought. You reminded him of Charlie in some way, except that you were more realistic than she was. You were a kind, sincere person. You judged people by their actions, not by their ancestry or social status. You knew many aristocrats who had high status, but they were cruel, rude and arrogant. It seemed funny to Alastor that the difference between sinners and aristocrats who were born in Hell was not that big, and your words confirmed it

You often visited a hotel where you and Alastor could talk in peace. He saw how you communicated with others with a kind, sincere smile. You liked being in such a pleasant, warm atmosphere, and Alastor liked the fact that he had the opportunity to communicate with you more often, thanks to the fact that you started coming to help at the hotel

Alastor was interested in learning more about you. You didn't look like him, but that didn't mean he didn't like talking to you. Your friendly nature helped him relax, knowing that you weren't hiding any motives. You were just there for Alastor, even though he thought you were too kind for someone who was born and raised in Hell, but he still felt comfortable and calm around you

🐍Sir Pentious x Reader 🎩

Sir Pentious knew that there were aristocrats in Hell. He did not meet them personally, because those who belonged to the aristocracy of Hell usually did not associate with sinners. When he met you, he was sure that you were just as much a sinner as he was. He liked talking to you and you always listened to his stories about his inventions

He found out that you were an aristocrat when you offered to provide him with a laboratory in your house. When you came to your house, he was really shocked. You told him that you were an aristocrat and you really didn't want to hide it from him, but you liked talking to him so much that you were afraid that he wouldn't want to talk to you anymore. Looking at you, he wouldn't think you were an aristocrat, but not in a bad way

You continued to communicate and sometimes you told him about how you attended various events that you were forced to go to as an aristocrat. According to your stories, he realized that the aristocrats were not the most pleasant to communicate with. You had visitors several times and he heard them talking to you. When he heard that they were rude to you, he wanted to intervene, but you always asked him not to do it, fearing that he might be harmed

When he started living at the hotel, he told you about it and you began to visit him there often. You were always welcome at the hotel, and Sir Pentious was especially pleased. He liked you, even though he hadn't decided to tell you about it yet. But you were both in Hell and you had more than enough time

😈 Blitzø x Reader 🐴

Blitzø did not like working with aristocrats, but worked with them when they paid good money. It was during his work that he met you. You weren't his client, but you were at the same party where he worked as a bodyguard. Blitzø heard how the other guests spoke rudely about you while you stood quietly on the sidelines. You obviously heard what was being said about you, but you didn't say anything until they started openly insulting Blitzø. He wanted to answer them, but you intervened, firmly saying that they had no right to condemn him

He came to you soon after. Perhaps if it had been someone else, you would have called security, but you remembered him and greeted him with a friendly smile, telling him that if he decided to come next time, he could use the door. He was surprised that you invited him to come back if he wanted to. There was no hint of compliance with social statuses in your communication, and Blitzø felt comfortable while communicating with you

You were surprisingly kind and you completely ignored your differences in social status. You didn't hide your communication from others and didn't come up with excuses. Blitzø couldn't help but notice that he liked it. He enjoyed spending time with you and enjoyed talking to you. Sometimes you talked about animals. You loved animals and you liked taking care of them, and he was happy to talk to you about horses, which he liked so much

He never thought that through work he would get to know someone like you. Maybe he liked you more than he was willing to admit. He would like to spend more time with you, and the fact that you could actually go on real dates without fear of being judged by others. You have never allowed statuses and other people's evil words to interfere with you and your happiness

🦚 Andrealphus x Reader ❄️

Andrealphus found out about you from his sister Stella. She sometimes told him about an aristocrat who greatly annoyed her with his character. Andrealphus was sure that his sister was exaggerating, but when you met in person, he realized that you really were not like other aristocrats. You were kind to others, you treated others as equals and judged others by their actions. Looking at you, he understood why his sister, who was so different from you, was angry

You were kind and attentive to others and Stella often tried to hurt you with words, but to her disappointment, you did not pay attention to her words. Andrealphus was wondering what you really were like, so he started chatting with you. He told his sister that he would find out something about you so that she could use it, but he didn't really plan on doing it. The more you talked, the more he realized that your kindness and sincerity made him fall in love with you

Andrealphus often invited you to various events, but only when you were in quieter places did you become more calm. You told him that you loved animals and that you would rather spend time in silence than attending another social event. You were like a breath of fresh air. You were sincere and real, which is why you stood out so much from the rest

Andrealphus had big plans. He already imagined what his sister's face would be like when he told her that he had decided to make you part of their family. It may not happen as quickly as he would like, because he has not yet told you about his feelings, but he was sure that it would happen

🐍 Striker x Reader 👢

Striker didn't like aristocrats. He often worked for them and saw how arrogant, selfish and cruel they could be towards others. That's why when he arrived at a meeting with the head of an aristocratic family, he was sure that this would be another murder order, but this time it was different. He was hired to be the bodyguard of the heir to the head of the family. He was supposed to be your bodyguard. At first, Striker thought it was just the whim of a spoiled aristocrat, but when you met in person, he was surprised. You were very different in character not only from your parent, but also from other aristocrats he met

Unlike other aristocrats, you were kind and considerate towards others. At first, Striker thought it was just a mask, however, watching you, he saw how you helped the servants in the manor, you treated them as equals and during the events you stood apart from the rest. Striker has heard other aristocrats say nasty things about you because you behaved inappropriately for an aristocrat. You were too kind, you judged others by their actions and not by their background. Striker couldn't believe that an aristocrat like you could exist. Even towards him, an assassin, you were friendly and caring, bringing him snacks, knowing that he worked hard and you were grateful to him for that

You and Striker began to communicate often. You felt comfortable and calm around him. He didn't tell you the details of his work, but he did tell you about the places he visited. You listened to his stories with a smile, and sometimes you shared with him dreams of starting a new life on a farm, taking care of animals and living a quiet life, away from intrigues and scandals. You both knew that your dreams were destined to remain dreams, but Striker wanted to take you to one of the farms he once visited so that at least for a short time you could be happy

Striker understood that he had romantic feelings for you. He had never felt this way about a person he had a working relationship with before, but he wasn't going to leave you. It wasn't just his job, but the fact that he didn't want to leave. Striker wanted to take you to the farm to see your happy smile and tell you about his feelings. He didn't know what you would say, but he was determined to confess his love to you

[etherealily]

🄱🄻🄴🅂🅂🄴🄳​ // ​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW, but discretion advised. 🍃.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Tiny glimpse into his mind because why not?

Desc. : "His hand, so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face."

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It's not like Nate even knew you.

You just so happened to be the secret to his success, and maybe, perhaps his new obsession.

No biggie.

I mean, whole of the first week of spring break, he didn't text you, you didn't text him, and it was all great and normal.

Pissed him off to no end, because how the hell did you recover so quickly from having a fucking gun in your throat? But, hey, whatever. Maybe you were just that goddamn weird.

The second - and last - week of spring break was when shit got intense.

Because he thought about you.

He realized he hadn't even fucking seen you around town the entirety of it, and that might have freaked him out, just a little.

He worried, you see? Yes, only about his games, and his college apps, but now, all of them had been tied to you, with a pretty little bow around them.

So obviously, now he worried about you.

So, obviously, he needed to find out just where the hell your lucky ass had gone.

He narrowed it down to two options. Both perfectly reasonable, of course.

One, you just had tons of work and stayed indoors.

Two, you had been kidnapped and murdered by the opposing teams because they'd found out about your miracle-working.

See? Perfectly reasonable.

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It was a happy surprise to learn that you were basically closer to his house than you'd ever been before, after you'd taken up a job at the local supermarket.

Well, happy for him.

For you, it was more of a you-were-seriously-contemplating-suicide surprise.

"You listen to Elvis Presley?", he asked, dropping his purchase down on the counter. Your eyes never moved to it, and stayed on his.

That was one thing he noticed about you.

You were always observing, as if he were a rabid animal that would strike at any moment. As if he would reveal his sinister intentions to you within enough time for you to react.

"What?"

He nodded at the speakers on the wall around the establishment. "Those connected to your Spotify?"

You didn't want to answer unless you knew whether he was about to compliment or mock you.

"Sir, I think you should leave."

God fucking damn it. Why had he never thought about the fact that you wouldn't - (and couldn't)- call him a motherfucker at your workplace? His joy knew no bounds.

"That's so hot. Say it again."

You'd 100% expected that. It was clear on your face.

"There's other people behind you with more items to check out."

He swiveled his head around for a moment.

Old lady. Sometimes he wished he wasn't raised right.

He sighed, nodding. "I'm next up, though.", he warned sternly, pointing at you as he gestured for her to pass him by.

The old lady patted him on the shoulder and smiled, moving ahead with her purchase of an unholy amount of bread and cheese.

And what's worse?

She had coupons.

Way too many for Nate to stand smiling like a good boy behind her as she dug into her purse and fished out probably decades worth of them.

"Yes, dear, so just run all these."

"Uh, ma'am, I wish I could, but most of these are expired."

Thank god.

"Oh, well, you said most. Let's just sort through them and find the ones that aren't expired."

Would it be homicide to kill her? She didn't really have too long to live, anyway. He couldn't say he hadn't thought about it.

"Uh, okay, yeah, sure."

"This'll just take a minute, sweetie.", she whispered to Nate, pinching his cheek as if that would make time go by faster.

"How about I pay for you, ma'am? If that's alright?"

If he'd been allowed access to your mind, you'd never live it down, because you almost thanked him right then and there.

"Oh, there's no need for that, dear, I can-"

"No, please, I insist. It would be my pleasure."

"What a sweet boy."

Both her and Nate decided to ignore the derisive snort that came out of you as you swiped his card.

"Here you go, ma'am.", you smiled, placing the copious amounts of cheese into the bag, then stuffing the bread in, too. "Anything else?"

"Oh, no, that's it for me. God bless you, dear. Both of you."

Watching her walk out, he began to genuinely wonder if this absurd purchase was all part of some scheme some criminal had put up to steal without your knowledge.

"You hear that? We're blessed, you and me."

"Do you actually have anything to buy?"

"Of course I do. I'm not a creepy stalker.", he hissed, slamming his palm down in front of you. Slowly, he lifted it to reveal a stack of eleven condoms.

Oh, yeah, you were blessed with this fuckass' presence.

You sucked your teeth as your gaze traipsed from the condoms up to his eyes. One of them winked.

"Is that all?"

"Oh, come on, you're not even curious why I have them?"

"Probably for the dozens of bitches you're getting.", you scoffed, ringing it up. "$15.99."

"For eleven individual condoms?!"

You shrugged. "Inflation."

"Oh, they better inflate for the amount of money I'm spending."

He rolled his eyes, mumbling to himself as he pulled out the money from his wallet, instead of his card. "Fucking old lady with her bread and cheese."

"You maxed your card?"

"Yeah. Why do people buy so much shit they're barely ever going to use?"

"Like you with your condoms?"

Ah. Nate could've absolutely lost his shit laughing right there- you did care.

"I'm going to use it all. Trust me."

How many times was he going to use the phrase 'trust me' on you until he realized the meaning had eroded away into nothingness between you two? Probably a dozen more.

"Sure. Thanks for shopping with us. Have a great day."

He pouted, stuffing the packets into his pocket as he raised a brow. "You don't sound like you mean it."

"Nate-"

"And why are you even working here, anyway? Oh, shit, is it 'cause I cost you your internship with your perv boss?"

If he felt bad, the grin on his face wasn't really screaming guilt.

"No, fuckass, this is my friend's store, he just wanted someone to help him out for a couple hours."

"Whoa, wait, what happened to Sir? I liked that better."

That was a lie. He fucking loved it.

"Please, Nate. Stop."

"One condition."

There it was. It no longer seemed like he saw you as anything more than a boredom buster. Sudoku, or a crossword, basically. That was you to him.

"Answer one question, truthfully, and I'll leave this... otherwise empty store right after."

"I'm listening."

God, that's all he fucking wanted to hear, and it was oddly exciting. He could literally say anything, and you wouldn't block him out.

"What would you do if I told you that I have a body in my car right now?"

"What?"

"A body. A dead body. It's in my trunk. Right now. What would you say? What's your next move?"

It's like he expected you not to notice the fact that he was tracing shapes on your arm as he spoke.

"Cops."

At this point, even if he wasn't bluffing, you'd still have reacted so nonchalantly. Because it was all in all tiring to continue to play whatever twisted game he was playing.

"They're not an option. It's either silence or help me. Would you help me hide it?"

"Nate, did you kill someone?"

"No."

"Then why even ask?!"

"It's a hypothetical."

"No, probably not."

He tsked, looking away for a moment. "Wrong answer."

"Well, it's my answer."

He brought his fingers up to your face, and your slight flinch meant absolutely nothing to him. Imaginary hearts now plagued your skin. "Change it."

"My answer? No."

"Please."

"Nate, did you kill someone?", you asked once more, praying for an actual answer this time, be it in the negative or the positive.

He smirked.

"Thanks for the condoms.", he whispered, grinning as he gave your cheek a light pat - that was dangerously bordering on a slap.

Would your trunk be big enough to fit his body? You thought about it the rest of the day.

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

His fingers rapped on his dashboard as he watched his phone, set down on speaker on the dashboard, too. Pick up, pick up, pick up.

"Hello?"

Yes. He'd never been this happy to hear someone's voice, and it kinda freaked him out. Okay, whatever. Not important.

"Y/N."

"Who is this?"

"The guy you broke all the rules with before spring break? Made out with on the bleachers?"

"You need to be more specific."

"You better be kidding."

"Of course I am." He had never felt more relieved to hear your stupid ass laugh. "What do you want? I'm not helping you hide a body."

He debated just asking you where you'd been all this time, why you hadn't shown up to a single party or hangout, but he decided he'd just outright ask the real question he needed answered.

"Which one's your window?"

A pause. "What?"

"The one with red or yellow curtains?"

"Nate."

"Red or yellow, babe?"

"Red." Good. You'd gotten so used to him that you didn't waste time pointing out the obvious by asking 'are you outside my house?!'.

"You sure it's not yellow?"

"That's my parents' room."

"Yellow looks more tempting.", he teased, as he shut the car door.

"I'm not messing around."

"Neither am I. Yellow it is."

"Nate!"

This was far too precious to him. You were actually worried. How cute.

The fact that he had to climb up wasn't really making him jump in joy, but he figured you'd enjoy that little touch of vintage chivalry.

Like fucking Rapunzel.

He tapped on your window once.

No answer. Don't fucking play around right now.

He knocked once more.

He was met with your extremely delightful glare as you slid your window up, watching him closely.

"Hey."

"Dude, you-"

"Shh, shh, shh. Let me in.", he mumbled, crouching to cram himself through, his hand still resting on the top of the pane.

"You're insane."

Immediately grabbing your face after he steadied himself, he hissed through gritted teeth, "Where the hell have you been?"

"What?"

"I didn't see you at all before today!"

"Yeah, we got a lot of work to do over spring break."

"This is why you don't take psychology, because you get stupid amounts of homework even during the holidays.", he muttered, as if he'd warned you about this eons ago.

"What do you want?"

"Party. You. Me. Now. Get dressed."

He almost punched you when you started laughing.

"You actually do have a sense of humour, Nate, good for you."

"I'm not kidding. Come on."

"No way in hell."

"You know what? No need to get dressed. You look great. Just come on. Live a little."

"You've already taken me to 'live a little' before, and I ended up shitfaced with a gun in my throat at school at 12:30 am."

Good. So you hadn't gotten over that. He didn't care if he was being sadistic - he was glad.

He sighed, flopping down onto your bed and ignoring the second glare to come from you that night. "This is so typically a teenage girl's bedroom."

He had no clue what he was saying, at this point. But he knew he was itching for a reaction, a reason for you to hit him again, so he could grab you and shut you up. He craved the conflict.

"Surprising, considering that's what I am."

"I mean, the band posters? Really?", he huffed, pointing around at your room as if he was giving you a tour of it.

"Have you even listened to Queen? Presley? Any of the oldies?"

The match was found. Time to light it.

"So the shitty music in the store was connected to your playlist.", he chuckled, shaking his head. "No wonder that old lady was so nice to you. She thought you were one of her Bingo buddies."

It was just a question of how long you could stand him sitting on your bed, disrespecting your music taste.

"If you're only here to invite me to a party, I'm sorry, I'm not coming."

"How would your family like me hanging out here?", he mused, tilting his head. You know, the one you'd probably love to bash into the pavement given a chance? That head.

You were so fucking hot when you were pissed, it was unbelievable to him. He could sense it, the anger.

The smell of your rage made him want to riot.

"You can't keep blackmailing me into doing what you want."

"Alright, fine."

Your uncomfortable frown made him snicker. "What's that look?"

"This is usually the part where you self-harm and tell me I'm being a bitch for not bending to your will."

"Tonight's different."

"Why?"

Because I'm going to unwrap every fucking secret of yours.

He shrugged, the corners of his lips curling downwards. "I don't want to."

"So, you'll leave?"

"I didn't say that.", he trailed off, watching you sit down on the chair across from your bed. "Let's just chill."

"Nate, when have you and I ever chilled?"

He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes at you, before giving you a sly smirk. His fingers emerged from his pocket as he pulled out a packet of pre-rolleds. "Right now."

"You're kidding."

"C'mon. Don't be a pussy."

"They'll smell it."

He lolled his head over to the door. "No, they won't. You're two floors up." He shifted to one side, patting the space next to him. "Come on, Y/N, don't end your badass streak so quickly."

His eyes followed you as you sat down gingerly, rubbing your forehead like he was causing you a genuine migraine. That's funny, she hasn't even seen me high, yet, (and she won't).

"Why do I let you do this?"

"Million dollar question if I ever heard one.", he scoffed, fumbling around his person for a lighter. He found it, placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it, causing his next catastrophic words to come out a mumble. "But I'm glad you do."

He continued to watch your eyes change from frustration to mild fascination, to hesitation all in one second, as he puffed out through his teeth. "Fuck.", he groaned, handing it to you.

"I don't know about this."

"You think they'd like me?", he mused, looking at the door, and then back at you. "I'm known to make a good impression with parents."

"The no-blackmail thing didn't last long.", you huffed, taking it from him. Nate almost made out with you right then and there, the way your lips wrapped around it as if they were made only for him.

"Didn't want to break tradition.", he snorted as you coughed and sputtered, handing it back to him quickly.

"Gross."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

The last thing he'd expected from that evening was actually staying. He'd thought he'd get you stoned, you'd pass out, and he'd leave.

But here you were.

Next to him.

Freaking him the hell out.

He looked down at his watch. 2 AM. Fuck.

"I gotta go."

"You've been saying that for the past three hours."

Shut up. "Eh, well, it's not like my parents are worried."

"Why not?"

"They know I can handle myself."

"Right, because I'm such a threat."

"God, no. They'd love you." He shook his head subtly, grinning as you nudged his face playfully with your foot from across the bed. "You should come over, sometime."

"I'm not coming over, Nate."

The weed made sure you didn't push him away when he gently grabbed your leg. "Why not?"

"Because we're not friends. There's no reason for me to meet your parents."

"I just think it's right that you get to judge my room, too.", he muttered, lips on your ankle like it was his life support. "You know, justice or whatever."

"It's probably all monocoloured, plain, boring crap."

"Only one way to find out.", he teased.

He despised the silence that followed. High-you wasn't exactly chatty, it seemed.

"Tell me something about you."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "Anything."

"This is my first time smoking weed."

"Not exactly a secret, sweetheart."

"You didn't ask for a secret."

"Now I am. Tell me a secret."

"I hate football."

You were more resilient than he thought, seeing as you'd smoked three cigarettes already, and the most you'd given him was your sports preferences.

But he'd take what he got.

"Because of me?"

"No, just generally."

"But you came to games.", he countered.

"Because of Maddy."

"You guys are close?"

You nodded, stirring slightly as you looked out your window. "Mhm."

"So she told you." Shit.

You tilted your head, sitting up as he gripped your calf, moving closer and placing kisses on your knee, too. "About?"

Well, if you didn't already know, no need to tell you.

"To come to the games."

"Oh. Yeah."

Nice save, Jacobs.

"I guess now I owe you a secret, huh?"

"I guess you do."

"You're not gonna like it.", he murmured, lazily tracing even more shapes on your knee, while his other hand had trailed up to your arm. "But I love your lips."

He smiled when the corners of your eyes crinkled up and you burst into a fit of giggles. "What?"

"It's true. They're perfect."

"God, I love weed."

You would, seeing as you smoked more of it than he did. Enough to kind of make him feel slightly guilty.

"It's not just the weed saying this.", he continued, shaking his head. "I'd fight wars for those lips. For you."

He shouldn't have liked the fading of your laugh so much, the slight trepidation brewing on your face, either, but for some reason, he did. "Nate, I'm not... I don't wanna-"

"Be fought for? Why not?"

He took the silence as a cue to brush his finger against your cupid's bow. "You don't think you deserve it?"

He watched your lips move under his finger as you shook your head, side to side. "Well, I do. And, guess what?"

"What?"

"I got another question for you."

Your frown was your response.

"Why didn't you push me away when I kissed you that night on the bleachers?" He knew the answer. Of course he did.

"I was drunk."

"Yeah, see, you weren't that drunk.", he taunted. But no, you were. He'd given you basically one and a half bottles. Just like tonight, taking barely ten puffs while you took thrice as much. You just hadn't noticed.

"I don't know, then."

"I just think that if you didn't push me away, it can't have been the terrible experience you made it out to be, in the car."

"What do you want to hear, Nate?"

"That you want to do it again. 'Cause you do. Don't you?"

"I don't."

"Yes, you do. If you could see your own eyes right now, you'd agree."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

He waited for a reaction, a scoff, an eye roll, anything, but you just looked back at him, and then down at the hand he was holding. Oh, it was the weed.

So he took matters into his own hands. No. He took you into his own hands, tracing the gap between your lips with his tongue before he pushed it in.

Your lips were war-worthy, just like before. But this time, something was different. This time, you kissed back.

There we go.

His hands ran over your back as though he were splaying a huge deck of cards across a table, and he came to the grave realization that maybe, just maybe, he was no longer doing this just for a reaction.

"Come here.", he murmured, making up for his lack of oxygen by trying to steal yours as he pulled you onto him. How Shane Crestin hadn't killed himself over the fact that he'd fumbled this bag, he'd never know. Loser.

His hands slipped under your shirt. Wrong move, seeing as you pulled away. "No."

Wasn't weed supposed to last longer?

"What?"

"I'm not... no."

"You seemed into it, like a moment ago. Face it : you want this. No amount of bullshit self-respect or whatever you wanna call it, is going to change that.", he responded, coolly, as he took a drag from the blunt, his lips immediately feeling the lack of yours.

"You're just trying to get back at Maddy."

God, he wished that were true. Would make much more sense.

He sighed, his forehead on yours. "I'm not, but you're not going to believe me.", he mumbled, watching you get off him and move back to the other side of the bed.

Oceans away. Too fucking far.

"I'm sorry." There was something he hadn't said in a while. "For, like, everything."

"Why am I so fucking important to you? If I just showed up to every game for you, would you leave me the fuck alone? No, you wouldn't, because you sought me out during spring break! Am I just an easy target?"

No. "I don't... I don't fucking know, okay? You just are."

"Is it 'cause you hate me?", you questioned, so quietly that he had to debate whether to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness or actually kill himself in guilt for eliciting it.

"What?"

"Do you hate me?"

"For what?" He had no fucking clue what this could be about. Every single thing he'd done so far indicated the opposite. But he didn't want to let himself go there.

"Being your good luck charm."

Oh. He had to think about that one. "No. It would be weird if it was someone else."

"I just mean... it must be frustrating, when you need someone, and they might not always be there."

"But you will, right? Be there?"

"You scare me, Nate."

He scoffed, slightly, rolling his eyes. "You're unbelievable. Why? Gimme one reason - a real one - why you're scared of me."

"You're violent."

Okay, he was hoping you'd give an invalid one.

"I like beating people up.", he shrugged. "But never for no reason."

"Not exactly a secret, sweetheart. And anyway, it's not only the beating up that you like."

"Hm?"

"You like getting beat up, too."

Remind him never to give you weed again.

"Why would I-"

"On some level, you feel like you deserve it.", you replied, shrugging as you took a long puff of the miracle weed that apparently made you unreasonably perceptive.

Okay, confirmed, not even the word weed would be mentioned around you anymore.

"You think I deserve it?"

"Mostly, yeah. But not... all the time."

"How do you know so much?", he asked, watching your fingers get lost in your hair. He couldn't afford eye contact.

"Psychology."

"See? You shouldn't have taken it. It's creepy."

You sighed, smiling as you looked up at the ceiling. "Sorry."

He did not expect you to back down, that was for sure.

"It's fine. Never giving you weed again, though."

═════════════════════ ⋆ 🚬 ⋆ ══════════════════

It actually took until the very last day of spring break for him to catch up with you again. Not like he was pissed that you pushed him away, or anything. Or that he was confused about the entire interaction in the bedroom of someone who, until three weeks ago, he wouldn't have been caught dead talking to. He was just busy. Sure. Let's go with that.

"Hey."

"Not now, Nate."

"What is your problem?" Wait, no. That kinda talk was why you were pissed at him. "Look, we should start over."

God, he sounded like a cunt. This was definitely something that pathetic Shane Crestin would say. Ew.

"Okay. Can you start by going over there?", you asked, restocking the shelves with whatever bullshit condiment you had to.

"I'm an ass. I'm a jerk, I'm- I'm a dick."

You were silent for a moment, before you added: "A small one, too."

He sighed, beaming with relief. "A small one, too.", he agreed, nodding. "I'm just here to ask you over to dinner. My house. I'll even cook."

Dude, if you didn't agree, he'd actually fucking kill you.

"No way you cook."

"Only one way to find out."

He saw the falling apart. The gradual breaking down. The glacier was melting. "I'll listen to Queen or whatever, with you."

The quiet was taunting him, but you came to his rescue. "No steak."

"No steak."

Yes. Fucking yes.

[ghcstao3]

I hope your day is as amazing as you.

What would happen is soap was Makarov's son who run away to live with his Scottish Aunt? He knows Russian and how Makarov operates and wants to stop it, that is why he joined up. What would happen with the team and Makarov finding out?

Have a lovely rest of the year. I hope it is restful and relaxing

i actually love this prompt so much !! thank you, and i hope you are doing well :)

-

The first thought in Soap’s head upon being passed a photo of his father isn’t of revenge or abhorrence like he thought it might be—it’s wondering if Ghost notices the tremble in his hand as he’s given the picture.

His second thought is that he must have, because Ghost isn’t even looking at the photo pinched between his fingers.

He’s looking right at Soap.

“Makarov,” Price supplies, though Soap needs no introduction. He’s more familiar with the task force’s newest target than he’d like to be.

But he’d been waiting for this. Soap had been surviving out of spite and the hope that maybe one day he might finally reach this point. That maybe he could be the one to put a bullet in his father's skull for all he's done.

Ghost’s eyes continue to bore into the side of his face up until a passive dismissal from Price, and even then there’s a second set of footsteps behind Soap as he leaves the bar.

His shadow only lets him get as far as the elevator of the run-down hotel they're posted up in for the time being, before the emergency stop toggle is pulled just as the doors slide shut and the car moves upward.

Soap is suddenly shoved up against a wall, Ghost's forearm pressed to his throat while a handlerail digs into his spine. He could fight the lieutenant off, he could—but Soap’s senses tell him it'd be futile. That whatever it is Ghost wants from him would be inescapable, inevitable, no matter how hard he tries.

"You know something," Ghost says, barely loud enough to be heard over the blaring elevator alarm. His eyes are intense, dark—and for a moment Soap is in full understanding of the fear Ghost's enemies carry for him.

"Not sure what you mean, sir," Soap replies. And maybe a part of him knows exactly what it is Ghost is talking about, but a louder majority is panicked. Confused.

Soap's throat is squeezed tighter. A threat, from his own lieutenant.

"About Makarov," Ghost grunts. "I saw your face when you looked at that photo. There's something you're not saying, MacTavish, and I reckon you'd spit it out before I make you."

Soap's eyes go wide, never having even thought of Ghost picking up on his expression. Never having even thought there was an expression. He feels his heartbeat jump pace, thumping in his throat as he struggles to swallow. This isn't how he'd imagine telling anyone his place in this. Who he really is.

In all honesty, he hadn't imagined it happening at all, mostly because he wished for it to never have to come up.

But perhaps Soap should've known that Ghost is too smart for that to be possible.

"Don't think you'd believe me if I told you," Soap rasps. He knows it's the wrong answer for Ghost, but he's not quite sure what else he could say.

Thankfully, Ghost doesn't suffocate Soap further, though he doesn't budge his hold yet, either. Not as he hisses, "Try me."

Soap screws his eyes shut, huffing air through his nose to brace himself for whatever reaction he'll receive. For whatever reaction he doesn't want to wait on.

"I'm—" Soap sighs his uncertainty, his voice quivering, "Makarov is my father."

Though Ghost scoffs, Soap can feel some of the pressure on his windpipe mercifully lift. "Bullshit he is. Why would you be hunting him?"

Soap finally begins to scrabble at the thick forearm at his throat. "I ran away when I was old enough. He... he made me do awful things for him, LT, and I—can you please just let me go?" Tears sting the corners of Soap's eyes. "I'll explain everything, I just—"

Ghost suddenly frees him, and Soap doubles over, heaving in gasping breaths as he rubs at his neck and collarbone. The alarm stops ringing as Ghost pushes the emergency toggle back in place, and the car begins moving again.

It's a blur, being led to Ghost's hotel room, but he's appreciative to not have to think about his steps as Ghost drags him along and seats him on the foot of the made bed.

Soap opens his mouth to let his explanation begin tumbling out, but Ghost shushes him before he gets the chance.

"I'm getting Price, Gaz, and Laswell before you say anything," Ghost tells him. "Whether you like it or not, I'm not keeping this secret from the team if it'll help us take down your f—Makarov's operation."

Soap understands, he does—but that doesn't mean it hurts any less to hear the distrust in Ghost's voice that Soap had only recently managed to work away.

Ghost pauses in the doorway, and for a hopeful second Soap thinks he's changed his mind.

"I'm sorry," he says instead, before turning and heading back into the hallway.

The door clicks loudly shut, the electronic lock mechanism resetting. Soap sighs, feeling his shoulders slump uncomfortably low as he waits. He suspects he has a night of storytelling ahead of him, now.

If only he'd been more careful.

*

The team takes in the new information better than Soap had anticipated.

Ghost says nothing the entire time. Asks no questions and offers nothing more than a grunt or huff to acknowledge what's being said. Soap only hopes his walls haven't been permanently rebuilt.

Price takes the information in stride, just as Laswell does. They both ask questions that pertain more so to their current mission, poking and prodding to see if any of Soap's personal intel could help them find more and easier success in the near future.

Gaz sits with him and tells Soap it changes nothing about who he is. That because he's still fighting for the right cause, nothing else matters—not his past nor paternity.

Soap is just grateful that beyond his confrontation with Ghost in the elevator, no rash decisions have been made otherwise in the face of this revelation.

But after everything—Soap just wants to sleep. He just wants space.

It takes longer than Soap would’ve liked for it to happen, but it does eventually. He’s finally allowed to leave the room and shuffle to his own, though not before Price catches his arm in the hallway, once Gaz and Laswell have both disappeared, Ghost’s door having long since been shut.

“This isn’t to say I don’t trust you to do it,” Price says, “but if it comes down to it, Soap—you can’t hesitate.”

Can’t hesitate to kill Makarov, Price means.

“Of course, sir.” Soap nods. In no world does he need to be told to take action. “I understand. No second-guesses.”

Price hums. “Good,” he says, and pats Soap’s shoulder. “Now rest up, sergeant. Lots of work still to do.”

Soap nods again and bids Price goodnight before finally slipping into his own room. He barely takes the time to toe off his shoes and shed his jacket before collapsing onto the bed, more than ready to curl up and sleep for an eternity.

But alas, as Price had said—there’s still plenty left to do.

[softshuji]

Ran doesn't often feel deflated.

It's not often he allows himself to wallow in the moment, or the enjoy the pity he spends so long denying himself. But looking in the mirror now, at the violet turning to navy hair that stares back at him from the mirror twinkling with strobe lights, he almost allows himself a sliver of sadness. The silk of his hair, now kisses at the floor, waves upon waves that he'll miss braiding in the morning, your soft hands that tug gently on each one when you pull him back for a kiss.

Yes it does feel weird, freeing and not at the same time, when the wind moves through the strands with a lightness that his longer hair didn't allow for. There is nothing to twirl his baton around now, he thinks, as he walks the streets of Roppongi, to your apartment where he waits, with some trepidation to show you the fresh cut which was more a necessity than desire.

'Ran?' you say, when his arms come around you from behind, wet hands drying on a towel to then slide over his forearms, the cuffs now folded to the elbow, all honeyed skin where the fine hairs soak in the evening light, shell pink that has his eyes flashing fuchsia and violet.

He waits, with some apprehension as you turn around and take it in, the lack of blond locks that you could wind a hand around and tug, the short and neatly gelled purple that's carefully tucked behind his ears, curled over his proud forehead.

'So...' he says and clears his throat when he sees your eyes widen, the reflection of him in the shine of them. 'What do you think baby?' and he loathes to admit, that he'll hate it more if you do too, that really, this is all that matters, the cavern of his self-pity that might grow if you think he is somehow lesser for something as simple as this.

'It's...' and your mouth opens and closes like a fish, a hand coming up to touch his cheek, the edge where his ear meets hair, a thumb gently moving a stray strand back from where it curls at his cheekbone. 'It's different.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'You don't like it do you?' and you soften, your hand snaking to the back of his neck where your fingers twirl a few strands, a gentle tug that proves you still can, that proves it hasn't changed.

'It's not ideal. I'm just gutted it was necessary, after all the police shit that went on,' he says, a cold wet balm to the fire of his hurt, to sate the pain he thinks has been unnecessarily pulled from him, and really it was just hair, but it was his, and it was yours and maybe he enjoyed the feeling of your nails raking across his scalp a little more than he voiced. And it had been necessary, and he hadn't been the only one forced to change, and yet it never helped that he felt some part of him was somehow lacking.

You smile, soft and placating, run a hand through the back of it, the softness that kisses your skin when his hair touches your knuckles and he sighs, audibly, when you rake your nails gently across his scalp, a thrum of friction that has him almost moaning at the expert touch. 'Well I like it. Makes you look like a Dilf.'

'A Dilf?' and he pulls back, to narrow his eyes at you, boyish handsome charm that has a smirk tugging at his lips, so easily drawn and so easily given to you. 'I am neither old enough nor do we have kids.'

You feign a moment of thought and tap your lip with one finger, the other hand running down the slope of his neck to play with the edge of his collars where the inky black of his tattoo spills past the parted fabric. 'Dilf-ism isn't about age, it's a state of mind Ran, and you sir,' you whisper and pull him down, just like that, his lips a breath from yours, tantalisingly close and a supple pliant pink, 'are a Dilf.'

He raises an eyebrow, and it's palpable, the way the hurt cools in his chest, regret that turns to ashes and nothing more, the grief that's smoothed over by your love that never ends. 'What about the other part huh angel?' he says and pulls your waist to his, his pelvis knocking yours against the counter, arms trapping you between the mahogany wood of your island kitchen and the strong, toned ridges of his body.

Your breath hitches, as it always does, as it always has, reactions so easily pulled from you and with such ease. 'Other part?'

'Mhm.' And he takes your chin between his fingers, a thumb that presses to your lips to part them for himself, obedience and love and care that has the heat breaking out across your skin. 'The not having kids yet part.'

'Oh.'

'If you give me a moment of your time baby, ' he says, 'I'm sure we can change that too don't you think?'

And when he kisses you there, the rosy pink of the evening sky spilling into your kitchen, and with a hand running through the violet hues of his hair, it is with less regret, less apprehension, less like he has something to be angry at, and all the love you so easily give, that he loves and never feels deserving of.

But he is, you've always known that.

Reblogs appreciated!

(happy late birthday to this dummy, I couldn't miss the opportunity now could I? Also Dilf Ran supremacy goodbye, I stand by it.)

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Trip: knight!price x princes!reader

Idk if this should be a warning but there's like a tin y bit of a mention of religion but like not that much. Also it's the fantasy middle ages unfortunately it's a topic that has to come up. Also another long chapter, sorry lol

It was early in the morning when Sir John Price had come to you and asked if you wanted to take a trip with him for the day. He didn't have to tell you what it was exactly at the time, you just agreed and before long you were sitting on your horse with Pride riding next to you.

Only a few hours had passed and the countryside had taken over as you continued down the road with him.

He had yet to tell you where you were going or why.

"Are you taking me hunting?" You wondered and he shook his head with a small smile.

"I'd be foolish to do that, your highness." He said and you hummed.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

You sighed but smiled and allowed him to lead you wherever he wished. You trusted him and you recognized that you were heading the direction towards the nearby village.

It had been awhile since you had been beyond the village and the fields surrounding the castle since your mother made it known you were supposed to stay close by for any suitors. You hadn't realized how trapped you felt until you were out of her shadow.

If you were being honest, this would be enough to keep you happy if Price had nothing else to show you.

"You're not worried about any unwanted attention I might bring?" You teased when you remembered how wary he'd been the other time you made an appearance in a village.

"You're far too stubborn to keep hidden." He teased back. "We won't be in the village much today."

You tilted your head but he didn't elaborate and only gave you a small smile that made you playfully narrow your eyes at him.

Regardless, you follow him into the village and greeted any villagers you passed on the way in before you followed him towards the outskirts. It was then that you realized he was leading you towards the monastery that sat on the top of the hill.

"Are you turning in your sword?" You wondered and he raised an eyebrow. "Have a I worn you out already?"

"No, your highness," Price scoffed as he stopped his horse in front of the monastery. "You know I'm not a praying man."

Price helped you down from your horse and you chuckled at the thought of him praying as often as the monks do.

"No, you are hardly devout enough for that."

"Not to God, at least."

Price let you enter first and you stared in awe at the stained glass that captured the late morning sun. You had visited a few times before but the peaceful silence and the architecture never failed to amaze you.

It wasn't long before a monk met the both of you and bowed before Price spoke.

"If it's not trouble to you, the princess would like to take a few books back to the castle with her in exchange for some that she already has."

Your eyes widened and you snapped your head towards him. You couldn't help the way that your heart skipped a beat as the monk gestured towards the stairs.

Price sucked in his lips when he saw your surprise and he bowed his head slightly.

"You said you needed more book to read."

You shouldn't have been surprised that he would take a passing comment so seriously. If Sir John was anything he was attentive about everything around him, including something so small as more books to entertain you with.

It made your heart soar and you body warm up. You wanted tot hank him but you couldn't find your voice but you feared you'd sound choked up because you could feel your throat tighten.

He cleared he throat and gestured towards the stairs.

"Shall we?"

Upstairs there were rows and rows of shelves full of books. Many of them you hadn't seen before which nearly captivated your attention immediately. Excitement bubbled up inside of you as you browsed them knowing that you could spend days looking through all of them.

Price carried any of the books you picked out even when you tried to protest but he did it anyway.

"You should pick out a few as well. I haven't forgotten my promise."

"There's no way for me to know I will like them."

"Then tell me what you like and I'll get it for you."

As you worked through the books and picked out a few that fit what he would like your mind wandered. You remembered what he told you about his upbringing but you want to know more.

You never would've guess him to be anything but noble born despite his more rugged personality than most knights.

"You're from the north, correct?" You wondered softly and he raised an eyebrow.

"Only a weeks ride from the castle." He explained. "It's a lot more country up there."

"Do you miss it?"

"Often."

You frowned. In reality, he was never meant to be far from his home. If the lord hadn't taken him in, he would've stayed there and enjoyed his life without the expectations of keeping the crown and the kingdom safe. He wouldn't know you personally, you doubt he would've ever seen you.

You hoped that he didn't regret becoming a knight, especially since you didn't make it very easy for him.

"Tell me more." You looked at him almost pleadingly and his eyebrows knitted together.

He hesitated only for a moment as he studied you carefully before he looked deep in thought.

"I lived on the lord's land. We were farmers. My house was just on the edge of the woods and I'd spend most of my time in there when I wanted to avoid doing any work...it was peaceful." His voice was calm as he reminisced and you giggled softly. "Then when the lord took me in I lived in his estate. At the time it was the biggest home I'd been in and I was put off by it."

"It sounds like you're still fond of it." You said and he nodded.

"The lord named me his heir before he passed, so I own everything including my old home."

You smiled at that but the question in your mind slowly took it away. You knew the answer but you wanted to ask just in case you were mistaken.

"And your parents?"

"They pass when I was young. They were very sick."

"...I'm sorry."

"Thank you, your highness."

Despite the sadness of the situation you were grateful that the lord had taken him in and that you know got to know him, especially as he stared at you with soft eyes that made you warm.

"Would you like to go there someday?" Price's voice was soft and almost unsure as he stared at you with bated breath.

You could see the nervousness in his eyes despite the fact that he stood tall as he always did. But he shifted on his feet and sucked in his lips, wetting them as he waited for you to answer.

And you could hardly keep yourself from looking surprised and flustered.

It was one thing for him to bring you places that you liked and that you would enjoy but it was another for him to want to bring you to somewhere he held dear. It was a privilege to let you see, to get closer to him in ways that you knew you would never get with a lord or a prince.

And you wanted to continue to do it. You wanted to get closer to him, to feel what could be if you weren't who you were.

It would ruined you but you couldn't help it.

"I would." You nodded and watched him sigh with relief.

"Then I will take you one day." He smiled softly and you couldn't hep but return it.

He glanced at the window, his cheeks a light pink before he gestured towards it.

"We still have the day. There's somewhere else I'd like to take you, if you wish, your highness."

You titled your head and watched his eyes twinkle.

"Another monastery?" You tried to guess but he shook his head.

"You'll like it just as much." Price said and you hummed.

You didn't argue. You knew that whatever he had planned would be perfect and that it didn't really matter because he was taking you there anyway.

a/n: I need him in ways that's concerning to everyone

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @sofasoap @panikk-attackkk

[animeismyhappyplace]

Who knew missing a work meeting could lead to this?!

Y/N misses one of Port Mafia Executive Chuuya Nakahara's team meetings so she must explain herself to him, he invites her back to his place under the guise she needs to help him with paperwork when smut ensues.

This is my own work not a reblog! Please do not repost or translate without permission as I've worked very hard on this!

TW - Minors DNI!

daddy kink, pet names, bondage play. Might be a lil OOC I've never written for Chuuya before or written kink smut so be kind 🙏

Word Limit: just over 4K 🥵

Y/N had been avoiding her supervisor officer all week, she had deliberately missed his most recent bi weekly round up meeting and she knew he'd be pissed at her for it. She'd rounded a corner in the main Port Mafia building when she heard a stern voice speak out "Why didn't you come to the meeting we had?" she sighs and looks down at her shoes suddenly finding them very interesting "Can we go to your office sir? I'd feel much more comfortable talking in private?" She hadn't even turned to look at him yet before she heard him mumble a non committal "Whatever" listening as his shoes hit against the marble floors so she turned and followed him down the small corridor. When they finally reached his office he ushered her in pushing gently at her lower back as she took in his office, not for the first time and probably not the last time, it's walls were painted in a sleek grey and silver theme very minimalist if she did think so herself but exactly what one may expect from a Port Mafia executive she thought as she sat in the black office chair across from his own. As he sat down she could see the annoyance that burned across his face at having to have another meeting about this topic which was cutting into his personal time, his fingers thumped against his desk as he looked across to her "So? What do you have to say for yourself this time L/N?" She gulped at his tone before responding sheepishly "I wasn't actually sure I'd need to come honestly, I've felt kind of sidelined on recent missions and wasn't sure I was strong enough to be classed as your subordinate. I know my ability can be useful but I don't know..." She trails off as she looks to the side focusing on a rather small speck of dust on his computer screen until she hears his huff wearily "You're not being sidelined, you're just getting more experience." he says sternly before taking a sip of what looked like some variation of a red wine. "And besides, you're doing great work so far you just lack confidence." The woman can't help but pout slightly at her mentors words as true as they may be that doesn't stop the string that hits her chest and settled in the cracks of her heart "it doesn't feel that way honestly sir" she can't look him in the eyes when she's still so unsure of her place on his team, it's a highly sought after post she knows this but maybe that's what makes it hurt more knowing she's not good enough for it yet.

He watches her crestfallen face for a moment before he replies "It does feel good that you're here, trust me." his tone softens slightly but there is still an edge to it "I'm sorry I disappointed you sir...it won't happen again! Did I miss much? maybe you could give me a recap now if you're able" she pleads to her mentor to not give up on her just yet "We were discussing our next week..." He pauses for a moment before continuing "...and then someone interrupted us by saying they wanted to talk about their feelings about certain member of the team..." he takes another sip of his wine before he begins again "she wants to quit now" shock racks across her face "That's not good, we can't afford to lose any more members especially if they keep going to the ADA, I'll...talk with whoever it is maybe I can change their mind!" She offers up her suggestion hastily "No, no," he shakes his head quickly "Don't bother talking to her, let her go, we don't need anyone who isn't loyal anymore." he stares at her intently "Just tell her that she needs to stay or else she'll regret it later." She gulps as she nods understanding the severity of wanting the leave the mafia "Of course sir. I'll pass the message on" she stutters out. "Good girl." She can't help but flush pink at the term, he's never called her anything like that before.

He smiles faintly as he leans back in his chair "Now then, what else should we discuss?" his eyes wander around the room for a second before returning to look directly into her e/c eyes "Do you know why Higuchi wants to leave?" he asks calmly yet firmly "N-no sir why?" "Because she didn't agree with your plans for the future." He says bluntly "Because she thought you weren't taking care of yourself enough." He pauses briefly before adding "But most importantly, she couldn't stand being near you anymore." He sighs deeply "That's all there was to it" "What?! I haven't done anything to offend her... Have I?" she starts to sift through memories to see what she had done to hurt her friend "Of course you did! You were always so irritating!" He snaps angrily "You never cared about getting yourself nearly killed which puts everyone else in danger too!"

He stands up suddenly and begins pacing around the room "It doesn't matter how many times you apologize or beg forgiveness, nothing will ever change the fact that you're an awful subordinate" she can't help the hurt that shoots into her chest and flashes across her face "I have always tried my best!...sir..." She stops talking about her voice can crack with pain. "Oh please..." His voice drops slightly as he stops pacing and turns towards her "...don't lie to yourself." He takes another step closer until their faces are almost touching "The truth is plain to see now. All these years spent trying to make everyone happy only made you miserable in the end." Her brow furrows at his statement "Maybe...but the team functions better now than it ever has! Someone had to sacrifice for the better of the organisation" the chair she'd been sitting on now lies on the floor as she jumps up to confront him "Sacrifice?" He laughs mockingly "Is that really what this is about?! Are you saying that by sacrificing yourself for others, you somehow achieved greatness?!" He shakes his head sadly "No one lives life without making sacrifices sometimes, especially those who wish to succeed in their goals." She looks down then before mumbling out her reply "I've sacrificed as much as you have, I can't imagine being a executive has been without it's struggles" he smiles softly "Yes, it has been hard work, but worth every second of it." He gives her a small nod before turning back to face her "And now here we are. The perfect balance between efficiency and effectiveness. It seems like everything has come together perfectly." He chuckles lightly.

she glances to the side of his desk seeing all the unfinished mission statements that need completed when she suddenly has an idea "Why you don't head home early sir and I'll finish all that work for you" his expression softens "I'm sure it'd be a big help for you" he chuckles softly as he shakes his head "You don't need to do that, it's my work I'll do it". Y/N shakes her head firmly not wanting to budge "well there must be some way I can make up for missing the meeting?" He thinks for a moment "How about you come to my place tonight?" He smirks at the girl in front of him as she turns a dark red thinking of the implications of his words "Sir? Do you need help with the papers? Or..." She trails off not really sure what she's asking him he nods slowly "Yeah, I wouldn't mind having someone around while I work on these papers. Plus, I think you'd enjoy spending time with me right?" He winks playfully at her.

That stops her in her tracks does he know about her little crush why else would he offer for her to come to his come when they could work on his reports here. Finally she gulps down the saliva that pools under her tongue and nods slowly not trusting her words, to be shown such attention from an executive as highly thought of as Chuuya was exciting to say the least. He grins widely "Good girl~" He takes out his phone and types in a few commands before handing it to her to input her number, "Text me whenever you're free so we can hangout"she nods quickly and inputs her number "I thought we were heading back tonight?" She tilts her head confused "Oh we are I just need to finish finalising something real quick then we will go.

Chuuya's fingers clack at the keyboard quickly for a few moments before he speaks again " We should probably go soon since it's getting late already" He stands up and stretches his arms above his head to stretch out his aching back "Let's get going then shall we?" Y/N grabs the few belongings she brought with her today and looks to her mentor "Ready when you are" He nods to her and they leave the building together.

They walk through the dark streets together until they reach Chuuya's apartment building where he unlocks the door and leads her inside, she walks inside of his penthouse tentatively, looking around at his sleek walls and plush looking furniture "You have a lovely apartment sir" she breaths out taking every inch in "Thank you very much for today, coming to see me about the missed meeting" He sits down on one of the couches and pats his lap invitingly "Come sit with me". He looks at her expectantly waiting for her response "You look stunning today by the way. You're wearing something a little more...revealing today...that for me?" He smirks to himself she flushes as she looks down at her blouse it had been unseasonally hot recently and lighter slightly more revealing work outfits had been essential "I-it's been so hot recently I've needed to adapt my clothes I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable sir" she frowns as she joins him on the couch "No worries, I don't mind seeing you wear something like that" His gaze lingers over her body "It suits you well though" He reaches forward and gently touches her arm "You know what else would suit you perfectly? If you took off your jacket" she shrugs the material off quickly almost as if it lingered on her skin any longer it would burn her "Would you be willing to try something new for me" He looks into her eyes expectantly.

She nods almost dazed as she looks down at his hand which is tracing small lines into her skin "What would you like to try sir?" He leans closer and whispers in her ear "How about I tie down your pretty hands to my bed~?" He chuckles softly before pulling away from her and standing up "Let's take this to my bedroom shall we?" He takes her hand and leads her towards his room "Strip for me please baby" She flushes a deep red at his words and follows to his bedroom starting to remove articles of clothes as they move. "Good girl~" He opens the door and steps inside leaving her alone in the room "Come here" He gestures towards the bed where he lays out several ropes and various other items such as handcuffs and blindfolds "Now lie down on the bed and spread those beautiful thighs of yours wide open for me darling~" She gulps down her nerves and nods to him, removing the last of her clothing leaving her bare to her bosses piercing eyes, she lays down on his monochrome silk sheets and spreads her legs for him to invite him into her personal space.

"Mmhmm... You're looking very delicious right now aren't you sweetheart?" He smirks and moves between her legs, running his hands along her inner thigh before reaching up and grabbing hold of her wrists pinning them above her head "There we go~ Now let's see how much pleasure we can draw out of your pretty little body" He murmurs admiring her form, he suddenly looks to her face "You heard of the traffic light system sweetheart?" she smiles lightly at his wanting to make sure she's safe and comfortable during their encounter and nods her head "Yes green means go, yellow means I'm unsure but want to continue and red is stop immediately" "Good girl~ and your safe word?" he asks while trailing his fingers to her inner thighs teasinger her with his gentle touches she thinks for a moment before responding "Peaches" She nods and giggles softly. "Are you ready to start lovely?" He asks as he spreads her legs a little further she nods as the pulls him down to her lips giving him a firm kiss.

Chuuya starts his teasing by turning his head the the side peppering her thighs with small kisses, giving small nibbles and licks every few minutes "I've always thought you were incredibly beautiful you know and so dedicated to the PM... To me" a whine bubbles up to her lips at his teasing as she watches him between her thighs "I've always been so fond of you sir I'd never want to disappoint you" Chuuya chuckles softly and leans forward pressing another soft kiss against her inner thigh "Stop calling me sir my love or I'll have to punish you" He smirks at her before pulling back slightly looking into her eyes again "do you trust me?" he asks "Yes Chuuya I trust you... trust you with my life" She smiles at him he smiles back running his thumb along her cheek making her shiver "Good now tell me what are your thoughts on our relationship? Do you think we could be together? Before we start I'd like to know where we stand" He asks gently stroking her hair as he stares deeply into her eyes hoping that she'll accept his offer "I'm yours Chuuya, I've been yours since I was told I'd be working under you" She smiles at him as she lifts her hand to card her fingers through his hair and down his neck resting at his neck.

His heart skips a beat as he feels her touch "That's what I wanted to hear baby~" he whispers placing one last gentle kiss on her forehead before leaning in closer to whisper in her ear "Close your eyes my love" He smirks as he steps down from the bed to grab the supplies he needs she nods her head as she relaxes into his sheets "I trust you with my body" She softly closes her eyes, he uses some velvet covered cuffs to attach her arms to his headboard before moving down and attaching some cuffs to her ankles which spread her out for his eyes to explore. Next he starts to remove his clothes starting with his dress shirt then moving to his pants then his boxers to expose his already hard length to her watching eyes she lets out a needy whine as she pleads to him "I need you so badly Chuuya~"

He grins teasingly watching her squirm around beneath him "You're such an adorable thing aren't you? You look so cute tied up like this." He says playfully as he leans forward kissing along her collarbone trailing soft kisses down her chest until finally reaching her nipples which he takes between his teeth she gasps as she feels his teeth gently encase her hardened nipples sighing as he licks over the bud sucking softly before moving to the other side and paying just as much attention to her other breast "F-feels so nice Chuu~" He continues licking and nibbling all over her breasts enjoying every second of it before moving lower still stopping to tease her belly button with his tongue before continuing further south towards her core where he pauses briefly to lick and kiss her inner thighs before finally settling between her legs "So warm... So wet and I've barely started" He smirks up at her as she gently tugs at the cuffs wanting to grab his head and push him down to where she needs him most "Stop t-teasing Chuu I need you so badly~" His eyes sparkle mischievously as he sees her struggling against the restraints knowing exactly what she wants "Oh my dear little one if only you'd told me that sooner~" He teases before beginning to explore her folds with gentle caresses and light licks moaning softly at the taste of her juices, she gasps harshly and tips her head back "F-fuck Chuuya your tongue feels so good~" He smiles at the sounds he's pulling from her as he drives his head down to explore her pretty pussy further, he licks a stripe up the full length of her pussy collecting her wetness on his tongue before sliding his tongue around her sensitive clit.

She lets out a drawn out moan as he pleasures her, bucking her hips up to meet his tongue "Why didn't we do this sooner" She huffs out a laugh with her head still tipped backwards as he chuckles softly he moves away from her clit leaving behind trails of saliva which drips onto her soft skin "Well now let's see how well you can take it shall we?" He says teasingly while looking up at her seductively, he wraps his hand around his length giving it a few teasing strokes while she nods quickly as she watches his movements licking her lips at the sight of his pretty cock "Please give it to me Chuuya I need you inside me now" His smile widens into a wide grin as he slides himself between her thighs slowly pushing himself deep inside her tight walls causing her to gasp in pleasure "Oh yes baby, just relax for me okay? You're doing great." He whispers huskily as he begins to move within her slowly building up speed.

She pulls at her restraints again harder this time making her hiss slightly in pain and she bucks her hips up to try and match his steady thrusts "Fuck chuu~ you feel even better than I could have ever imagined, you're making me feel so full" He grins almost wickedly as he continues to pound into her hard and fast, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through both their bodies "You like that don't you? You love having my big fat dick buried deep inside you don't you?" He asks mockingly as he leans forward to kiss her lips passionately, licking his tongue into her mouth, she moans loudly into his mouth as she matches his eagerness in their kiss "Yesss~ I need your fat cock chuuya! Need you to make me cum on your cock~ I-I'm close" She gasps against his lips. He groans softly as he keeps pounding away at her relentlessly his rough thrusts shaking his headboard as it bangs loudly into his walls "Cum for me now babygirl!" He reaches his hand down between their sweaty bodies as he roughly rubs her abused clit feeling her tighten around him as he slams into her one final time burying himself fully inside her as she spasms around him, legs shaking as she cums causing him to groans harshly as he cums hard.

He chuckles darkly as he slides out of her leaving only the head of his member still inside her causing her to whimper slightly "Well done little one...but there's no rest for us yet." He says sternly as he grabs onto her thighs pulling them apart spreading her wide open exposing her pink soaked pussy to his eyes, her body shakes as she's coming down from her high "Fuck Chuuya my pussy can't take much more" She whines out as she watches him grinning at her as he starts slowly pushing inside her stretching her tight muscles around his girth "Mmmh..such a good girl... You're so fucking wet aren't you?" Y/N nods her head sharply "F-fuck yes! I'm your good girl! You've made me so fucking wet baby" She whines as he starts to fuck her harder, pushing her slowly into overstimulation as her tired walls tighten around his fat cock.

His grip on her thighs tighten as he begins thrusting into her faster and harder making sure not to let up even for a second letting out a low moan of pleasure as he feels her tightening around him "Ohhh yeah... That's right... Keep cumming for me darling... Cum for daddy.... Cum for daddy" He reaches one of his hands down to play with her little clit. She throws her head back harshly as she grips the edge of the cuffs, tearing falling down her cheeks as she cums causing her legs to shake against Chuuya, whining and sobbing as her body shakes with painful pleasure.

As soon as she cums he pulls out quickly slamming it deep again causing her to cry out in pain but also pleasure as he slams his thick member into her ah~ such a good girl.... My sweet girl... Ohh god..... Your pussy is so warm and tight...so so soft... And so delicious..." She sobs through moans as her throat becomes croaky from over use, her body heating up from his praise. He smirks at her before grabbing her hips firmly and pulling them towards him burying himself deeper inside her than ever before "Ohhhh yesssss... Take all of daddy's big dick... Take every inch of this monster... Mmmmphh..." His body shakes as his thrusts become shallow as he spurts out a few lines of cum before he pulls out watching the cum trickle out of her abused hole, her body shakes as she watches her partner cum again before she shakes her arms as the cuffs clink against his bed "A little help here?" She giggles at him as he huffs out a chuckle lifting his tired body to unclip her restraints, making sure he kisses all the marks that have been left behind "Sorry love, think I got a bit carried away at the end there" He pushes his sweat caked hair back as he joins her back in bed, pulling her close to his body.

She smiles brightly as she gently wraps her arms around him, leaving light kisses to his chest "That was... Intense" She laughs as she cuddles into his side, he chuckles softly as he nuzzles her neck lightly "Yeah, you were pretty amazing too baby right?" He winks playfully at her he gives her a slight peck on the tip of her nose "We should really clean you up my love" He sighs wistfully, she pouts at her lover but rolls her eyes slightly and nods "One last kiss first?" She smiles as she reaches her arms out to him, he nods happily as he leans down for another passionate kiss, their tongues dancing together until they break apart slowly and he makes his way over to his en suite where he grabs a few washclothes, wiping her down as gently as he can to avoid more abuse to her already fucked out hole.

Once he's done he smiles and throws the cloth away and looks at her with a smirk on his face "That was fun wasn't it?" Chuuya grins widely at her "Wanna go again?" He asks teasingly. Y/N looks up at him in mock alarm "Are you kidding me Chuuya I don't think I'll be able to walk for a week as it is! No way I'll be able to go to work tomorrow!" She laughs as she reaches her hands to wrap around his neck, his grin widens even further as he pulls her closer to him and starts kissing her deeply once more, this time going slower than before so he can savor every moment of their closeness "You're such an adorable little thing aren't you?" He whispers against her lips "Fuck I'm glad you wanted me as much as I wanted you, I'll make something up to to tell Mori tomorrow" He smirks as he looks into her eyes "You'd better it's your fault" She giggles as she playfully hits his chest softly before cuddling back into his side "I love you Chuuya Nakahara~" He chuckles lightly as he wraps his arm around her waist and holds her close to him "I love you too Y/N L/N" He kisses her forehead affectionately before pulling away slightly to look deep into her eyes watching as she yawns Chuuya looks at her and smiles "Stay here tonight baby and we will talk about us more tomorrow hmm?" The woman nods thankfully as she gives him one last kiss before settling into his bed with a smile, he watches her drift off to sleep and leans forward to give her another soft kiss on the cheek before turning off the lights and wrapping his arms around her to join her in sleep. Tomorrow can wait for a while he thinks as he basks in the love they've shared together.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 43: Katherine's Advice

Prev > Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: conditioning, discussion of abuse, panic attacks

Oliver put the finishing touches on a set of egg-salad sandwiches, neat triangles with the crust removed, and set them on a platter along with an assortment of tea cookies from a local bakery. Truthfully, he didn't know the first thing about entertaining -- with no friends or family and a tiny bookshop apartment, it wasn't anything he'd ever had to do. Alexander had some helpful suggestions for things he'd seen other thralls do, and had procured the supplies Oliver would need for a light midnight lunch (or whatever one might call it.)

In fact, Alexander had been hovering around Oliver a great deal since their fraught conversation a couple of nights before. He'd bought a bounty of foods he supposed Oliver might like, and seemed to be popping up around every corner of the library to show Oliver interesting books.  It was as though his master thought he needed to win his favor all over again -- despite the fact that Oliver was still very much enthralled, his thoughts often going hazy and filling with imagined echoes of siren song.

Oliver didn't really need the attention, but he did appreciate the advice on entertaining. Embarrassing as it was, Oliver really did want to impress his guests. So much had happened over the past few weeks, his entire life and conception of the world turned on its end. The only people who might really understand were vampires' thralls. Miriam hadn't seemed quite lucid enough for a true conversation, but Alexander had told him that Miss Ruth's thrall, Charlie, was quite intelligent and together.

It'd be nice to talk to someone else who had gone through... this. That was all.

He had just finished up in the kitchen when the doorbell rang and his master rushed to greet the guests. "Hello hello!" sang a voice that Oliver would never forget: Miss Lily. She brought both of her hands to her face in a dramatic mock gasp. "Lex? No, it can't be. You don't look like you just clawed your way out of a grave. Who are you, and what have you done with Lex?"

"Mm. Nice to see you too."

"And look at you!" Miss Lily ruffled Oliver's hair. "You look like you're adjusting quite well! Are you the one responsible for Lex's shocking good health?"

Oliver blushed, not certain how to respond to the praise. She seemed different from how she had been in the auction house, more relaxed, but something about her voice and mannerisms still made Oliver feel a bit dazed and eager to please. "I'm just glad I was able to help him, sir."

"Of course you did. I just knew a thrall like you could do him a world of good. Speaking of which..." She pulled her thrall Miriam through the front door, and she looked at Oliver with her usual clouded expression. "Miriam, you remember Oliver, don't you? Lord Alexander's new thrall?"

She looked confused for a moment before her face lit up a bit in recognition. "Oh, yes! From when we were staying at the auction house. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too." Miriam's uncertain mental state made him a bit uneasy. If Lily and Alexander were anything alike, would he end up similarly entranced? Would he even realize if it happened? Was it happening already?

"But Miriam's not the only person I've brought along. I took the liberty of inviting one of our old friends that Lex has been avoiding."

Alexander looked confused. "Ruth? I haven't been avoiding her."

"Ruth's on the way, too, but no, not her."

"Oh -- you don't mean --"

A sophisticated-looking older woman, gray hair tucked in neat curls, stepped out from the porch. She was wearing an old-fashioned, dark blue flannel dress with a high collar. Behind her was another older woman, also wearing an old-fashioned flannel dress, hers covered with a ruffled white pinafore.

"Edith! It's been ages!" said Alexander.

"And whose fault is that?" she said, in the tone of a worried mother. "You kept turning me away when I called on you, and I'd hear all about it from Lily -- how you refused to take a thrall, and were drinking bottled blood --"

Alexander looked uncharacteristically cowed by the scolding. "And I'm sure she's told you that I have a suitable thrall, now, so you needn't worry about my health."

"I'll stop being worried about your health when you start taking proper care of yourself," she said. "But I'd like to meet this thrall of yours. Is this him?"

Even with his master and Miss Lily around him, Oliver could still feel the pull of this new vampire's aura on his mind. It was soothing, almost numbing, and he had the odd thought that she must be a good master. "My name is Oliver Pines, sir, and I am indeed Lord Alexander's thrall. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, what a polite and charming thrall," Miss Edith said with a smile. She shamelessly took Oliver's chin in her hand to examine his face, and Oliver was surprised that his master didn't seem to mind. "Healthy, and his blood smells very nourishing."

"As you can see, I'm taking care of myself just fine," said Alexander defensively.

"I suppose this is a better state of affairs than your usual. But where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself properly." she said, and then turned back to Oliver. "You may address me as Dr. Edith. I'm a doctor who has served the vampire community for over a century. If you're ever sick or injured, no doubt your master will call on me to help."

"You're a vampire... doctor, sir?"

"There are very few health ailments that can afflict vampires, so I primarily take care of their precious thralls. After all, healthy thralls are necessary for a healthy vampire," she said, with a pointed look at Alexander.

He rolled his eyes with a smile on his face. "Yes, yes, your point has been made."

"And this is Katherine, my faithful nurse," said Dr. Edith, gesturing to the woman who had accompanied her.

Katherine delicately shook Oliver's hand. "Good to meet you." She looked bright-eyed compared to Miriam, but her hand was warm, and she clearly was not a vampire.

"Are you a..."

"Dr. Edith's thrall, yes, and her nurse and assistant and whatever else is required of me."

"I see," he said with relief. He was looking forward to having a chat with a thrall who seemed to still have her wits about her.

While the group was still exchanging pleasantries, hanging up coats and hats, when the doorbell rang once again. It was Miss Ruth, the vampire lawyer who had sized up Oliver's suitability for a clerk at the auction house. She was followed by a tall, broad-shouldered man.

"Do you remember me, Oliver?" she asked.

"Yes, sir, I remember you very well. You asked me to recite state capitals. I'm glad to see you well."

Miss Ruth looked at him with longing. "Oh, I do wish I could have afforded to buy you," she said. "But no matter how hard I work, I just can't compete with Lex's fortune."

The broad-shouldered man was named Charlie, and he was one of Miss Ruth's thralls and law clerks. He favorited Oliver with a stoic nod, and between him and Katherine, he couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. Now that he was fully enthralled and owned by a vampire, it was strange to be around other humans, even those in a similar boat. It made him more keenly aware of his situation, and he wondered how he seemed to other people, all too aware that he was under a hypnotic spell.

"Now that all of our guests have arrived, Oliver, why don't you get your tea and refreshments and show the thralls into the second-floor sitting room?" said Alexander. "We'll be meeting in the parlor, and I would prefer not to be disturbed."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, feeling more than a bit like a child being shooed off so the adults could talk. But even though he'd love to hear what the vampires were discussing -- especially since he seemed to be of particular interest to them -- he was also eager to have a chat with the other thralls.

A few moments later, and he'd enlisted Katherine and Charlie's help in carrying trays to the sitting room. The curtains were open wide, offering a pleasant view of the gaslit city streets and the waning moon. Miriam settled into a plush chair and pulled a knitting project out of a small bag as Oliver poured tea for the four of them.

"Please, help yourself to sandwiches and cookies," he said.

"You're a lovely host, Oliver," Katherine commented. "And so lucid, as well." 

"Um --"

Charlie glared. "An awkward thing to say to a new thrall, don't you think?"

"At my age, I don't see any point dancing around the bush. I've seen hundreds of thralls, after all, and I'm well aware that we're some of the more fortunate ones."

"How long have you two been thralls?" asked Oliver.

"Six years for me," said Charlie.

"I've been with the doctor for nearly thirty years now."

"Thirty years!" said Oliver. "I didn't know... well..."

"Didn't realize that a thrall could last so long in the service of a vampire?" said Katherine, amused. "It's understandable, but it's more common than you might expect. I'm particularly lucky in that my master is a doctor, and so I'm kept very healthy."

"Do you like your master?"

"I do," said Katherine. "I'm under her spell, of course, but after all these years, that's practically background noise. But after having met so many vampires, I'm glad it was the doctor who enthralled me. I meet lots of interesting people and vampires, and I get to help them. I'm never bored. And she's always treated me well."

"I'm also happy to serve my master," said Charlie in a tone that sounded a bit strange. "I mean, I do miss my old life sometimes, and it's hard work to be a clerk, but my living conditions are so much better than when I was working at the factory, that's for sure. My math and reading have improved, too."

"And how about you, Oliver? What's your first impression of serving Lord Alexander?" said Katherine.

Oliver's mind swirled with thoughts, of his master's siren song and his feeding and his need, of the library and the comfortable bed and generous food, of his tiny apartment above the bookshop that used to be modest but his, of the threat of his master's sire.

"It's been good so far. Lord Alexander will be a good master to me, I hope," said Oliver carefully. "But... did you two know his previous thralls?"

Katherine exchanged a look with Charlie. "Ah, yes, Henry. I remember him. He was more... subdued. Like Miriam." 

"Like Miriam," Oliver repeated, his fear of having his mind fade away from him renewed.

Miriam looked up from her knitting. "Hm?"

"Nothing, dear," said Katherine. "I believe that Lord Alexander has, for the most part, always treated his thralls very well. He's a gentle vampire, and he's always treated me with more respect than is due a thrall. But..."

"But?"

"Well... I have had to treat a number of mysterious injuries on Alexander's previous thralls. Miss Lily's as well. I assume you know what those two have in common."

Charlie looked impatient. "There's no need to beat around the bush. Our vampires won't mind us talking about this. They're probably talking about the same thing," he said. "Oliver, what has Lord Alexander told you about the Maestro?"

"The Maestro?" said Oliver, his eyes widening. "Is that... his sire?"

"Oh dear. Yes, he is," said Katherine. "So he's told you very little. It's the way of vampires, unfortunately. Even my master barely tells me anything."

Oliver gripped his chair. "I need to know. Please, tell me."

"I'm afraid I don't know that much myself. He's notoriously reclusive. But I have had to visit his manor to attend to thralls on a number of occasions. Even my master would prefer not to go there, but she says it's too dangerous to defy him."

"What was he like?"

Katherine leaned in close, as though the subject of their conversation might somehow overhear. "His power lets him control people's bodies utterly. His thralls are like toy soldiers, moving to a drum only they can hear. I'm used to all kinds of thralls, but his were uncanny." Katherine shuddered. "Even though he didn't lay a hand on me, he was glaring at me the entire time, and I could feel his influence pulling at my mind. A feeling as though I had to fall in line immediately, or something terrible would happen. Like I could barely think without him hearing it. I've rarely wanted to flee a manor so quickly as that one."

"That does sound... unpleasant," he said, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he sipped his tea, unable to stop his imagination from conjuring visions of himself being used as little more than a puppet. "And his thralls were injured?"

"My master complained that he hadn't called until they were practically bleeding out -- afterwards, of course, not while we were there. Malnourished, too, with a haunted look about them." She put a hand on his knee with a sympathetic look. "But these were the Maestro's own thralls, not Alexander's. You have far less to worry about here. As I've said, I've always found him to be a very gentle vampire."

"Convenient," huffed Charlie. "A vampire with a reputation for being gentle and honest, who gets to blame all his thralls' injuries on his notoriously cruel sire."

Katherine looked alarmed. "Charlie --"  

"I'm just saying that I find it hard to believe the apple falls that far from the tree."

Before Katherine could interject again, Miriam unexpectedly looked up from her knitting, fear written on her normally placid face. "But it is true," she insisted. "Lord Alexander has never hurt me. Neither has Miss Lily, except when she has to leave me there, and --" Tears began to roll down her face. "I can hear it. I can still hear it. Miss Lily told me I could forget, but I can't, I can't forget or he'll punish me --"

"Miriam, oh dear, Miriam, it's okay," said Katherine, pulling the sobbing thrall into an embrace. "It's all right, Miriam. No one's going to hurt you here. You're safe with us, dear."

"I can dance. I can do the dance perfectly, I promise, just let me try, I can do it." Miriam's anxious mumble was barely intelligible between her crying and the way she was pressed against Katherine.

"Miriam, you aren't there. You aren't anywhere frightening. You're having tea at Lord Alexander's house, remember?"

"I'm at...?"

"Lord Alexander's house. His thrall Oliver is being such a gracious host. It's perfectly safe. See?"

Miriam seemed to wake from her terror almost as quickly as she'd fallen into it. "Oh, of course, I don't know what I was thinking!" she said, glassy-eyed as she lifted her head from Katherine's shoulder. "Oh, I always enjoy when my madam visits Lord Alexander. He's very kind to me."

"Of course he is, dear," said Katherine, patting her back. "We really shouldn't bring up such awful topics around Miriam. She's a sensitive soul. Charlie, how's your baseball team doing?"

Oliver wanted to hear more, even though it terrified him, but he also felt awful that his questioning had thrown Miriam into a panic, so he eagerly went along with the topic change. "You like baseball, Charlie?"

"Love baseball, always have," he said, also looking relieved at the conversation switch. "My master gave me a great radio set, so I can listen to all the games. But my team's doing awful this year -- bottom of the league. They never shoulda traded their star pitcher..." 

As Oliver listened to Charlie rant about blown games and poor referee calls, as Katherine discussed birdwatching and a new bread recipe she'd tried, he could almost forget the fear of his situation and feel a little bit normal.

It was only later, after Charlie and his madam left and Miriam was engrossed in her knitting, that Oliver was able to pull Katherine aside. "Katherine, will you please hear me out?"

"Certainly," she said in a motherly tone. "I know how hard it is, the first few weeks of being a vampire's thrall."

"What you said before..." He glanced around as if he were afraid his master would pop out of the shadows at any moment. "Am I safe here? Will I be all right? I've been conditioned to be unable escape..."

"That's normal, yes. I assume Miss Lily was the one who handled your conditioning?"

"She was."

"Then no, I don't expect you'll be able to escape," she said. She put a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "I can't promise that you will be safe. What I said about the Maestro was all true, and while I do believe Alexander means well on the whole, you're among vampires now. We live in their world, and they do what they will with us."

Oliver felt his gut twist. "So then..."

"I've met so many thralls in my life. Hundreds, probably. Most in worse situations than you, and some in better," she said. "Would you like to hear my honest advice about surviving this?"

"Yes, by all means."

"Find happiness wherever you can. Find joy outside of your master's enthralling and feeding. Hobbies, food, art, education, anything that brings you pleasure -- indulge in it." She smiled warmly. "You'll need these pleasures to keep your mind sharp and keep your soul from despair. When you're permanently a prisoner, you need something tangible to look forward to, even if it's simply a warm drink or a beam of sunshine. You seem like the sort of man who can appreciate the mundane."

"...I like to believe so, yes."

"That's a skill that will serve you well, Oliver," she said. "Even if Alexander and his sire are cruel to you, you'll still have something to hold on to during your darkest moments."

"Something to hold on to..." 

"I think you will figure it out. With how much Lord Alexander seems to prize you, it wouldn't surprise me to meet you here twenty years from now, looking back on our lives with our vampires."

She seemed to mean it, and that gave Oliver hope.

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I really enjoy Edith as a character and hope to write at least one side story with her.

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[goddessofmischief]

      QUESTION...? - YOUNG SHANKS X READER

A/N: this is part of this series, which requests are open for! These fics are all one-shots, so they can be read separately.

If he was being honest, Shanks had thought about that kiss many times. The first kiss, his and yours.

It had never since been repeated. It had never since ever been mentioned, so repeating was certainly off the table. He had many kisses since, with many others, but none the same, and none quite as real.

Through it all, he had remained your closest friend. He, you, and Buggy had remained on Roger's crew, contented to stay on and learn for the time being. But tides had been changing as of late, Shanks knew. Roger had warned him of it himself.

He wondered where you might end up, if things fell apart, if their little family were to be separated. It was impossible to imagine you alone, but he was sure you were capable of it. You had never really needed him or Buggy.

...You certainly didn't need Buggy, at least.

Some nights, when he was being really honest, he imagined sailing away with you. Just you. Sure, he'd find a crew someday, but he wanted a couple years to see what life was like without one.

But that dream had died today, as today was the day he was introduced to your new boyfriend, Dracule Mihawk.

Shanks had a cursory knowledge of Mihawk that was far more extensive than he cared to admit. While the boys were only one year apart in age, Mihawk's extensive accomplishments far outranked Shanks'. Mihawk was already one of the world's greatest swordsmen.

How could he compete with that?

To be fair, Shanks was no slouch with a sword. It was hardly an insecurity of his. He was certainly one of the best, but he wasn't one of the greatest. And this shouldn't have mattered so much, anyway: It's not like you were in love with Dracule Mihawk entirely based on his sword skills.

No, you loved him for a thousand other reasons, all of which became dreadfully apparent to Shanks the moment Mihawk set foot on their ship.

He was polite, almost to a fault. He was cutting when it came off as clever. He had an utterly inescapable stare that made Shanks understand the meaning of the nickname 'Hawk-Eyes.' He was not a man, he was a force of nature, and Shanks felt terribly small beside him.

"So... what's your job?" Buggy asked. The three of them were seated in the dining room, waiting for dinner to begin.

"Gun for hire," Mihawk said calmly. "But only for the best."

"And... what's your intentions with Y/N?"

Mihawk stared him down. Shanks felt very grateful that Buggy had asked first.

"To marry her, of course."

Shanks almost choked on his drink.

Marriage? Really? That's what this was? It was too soon, it wasn't fair. He hadn't had time to do anything, he hadn't had time to even consider the full depth of his feelings for you. Mihawk was going to take you away, and he would never see you again.

"Marriage?" Shanks asked, trying to assume a jesting tone. "Isn't that a bit... sudden?"

"Well, yes," said Mihawk. "But I'm sure there's no one better for me, and I would hate to lose her."

"Ah... I understand what you mean." He understood it all too well.

You entered the dining room, and Mihawk rose to greet you. Shanks stood up, too, whacking Buggy on the shoulder to get him to stand.

You looked beautiful... of course... and completely in love. He didn't know someone else's joy could cause him so much suffering.

Mihawk handed you a drink - the rim was covered in dried flowers, he'd forgotten you liked them so much - and the liquid was a violet color.

"You remembered," you whispered to Mihawk with affection, and he merely smiled. Coward. If you'd spoken like that to him he would have had the ring out already.

The four of you turned to face the door again, as a sound like thunder echoed from the outside-

But Shanks knew it was only his adopted father's footsteps.

"Mihawk, is it?" said Gol. D. Roger appraisingly, looking the boy up and down.

"Yes, sir, it is."

"What do you do to survive, Mihawk?"

"Whatever I like."

Shanks wasn't quite sure how Roger felt about this answer - please hate it - until Roger began laughing uproariously.

Damn it.

Was this how mutiny felt? It seemed like it was one, sitting at that table, watching all those happy people conspire over futures he wouldn't be part of. He felt like a ghost, like he'd already died, like everything was too little, too late. He didn't blame you - how could he? you had done nothing wrong - but still, his heart broke a little every time he saw you reach for Mihawk's hand.

"It was a nice dinner," you later said to Shanks, standing at the edge of the ship, while Mihawk and Roger sat stoically in silence inside. "Thanks for being there."

You held a cigarette, and he watched as you exhaled smoke across the water.

"Give it," he said, half-jokingly, and he took a puff as well. You stared at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," you responded, holding your hand out and taking the cigarette back. But it wasn't nothing. The truth of it was that him standing there, tall as ever, with his dumb little necklace and dumb loose, white shirt... it made you remember how you'd felt for him during that kiss, years ago, all those feelings you'd tried to bury since.

Mihawk made sense. He was honorable, undeniably handsome, and clever. And it wasn't that Shanks wasn't these things - it was that Shanks had expectations set for him you couldn't possibly hope to live up to, and couldn't imagine following after.

He would be King of the Pirates. He would find the One Piece. You never doubted any of it. Everything Roger declared would someday become truth. This much was certain.

Could you handle that? It felt too much to bear, too big a weight to carry. Your love for Shanks - that's what it was, it was love - came second to Roger's aspirations for him and things the world needed him to do. He was a great man, he would do great things. And you had no place in any of it.

"You're lost in thought, it seems," Shanks prompted. You smile.

"Just thinking about Mihawk," you responded.

"You know, he... he told us he wants to marry you."

Your cheeks flushed red.

"I know," you spoke casually, even though you hadn't known. "He wants us to travel together, before he settles somewhere."

"But not now, right?"

"Maybe now."

"It can't be now!" Shanks said. "With everything going on? The World Government at our backs and Roger's health-"

"What do you know about that?"

"More than you know."

"I know quite a bit," you responded. "I'm the one who diagnosed him."

"Oh," said Shanks, trying not to let on how worried he was. "How long has he got?"

"A year. Maybe less." You puffed on the cigarette again. "He's said he wants to see us all happy, before he goes."

"That's not what this is about, is it? Please tell me that's not what this is about."

That was what this was about.

"You can't marry Mihawk just to make Roger happy! That's not what he wants!"

"How do you know what he wants?"

"He wants you to have adventures! He wants you to be one of the greatest pirates ever! He wants us..." Shanks became very quiet. "He wants us to stick together."

You held your breath. What you were about to say would disrupt all your lives: yours, Shanks, Buggy's.

"The Roger Pirates are disbanding next week, Shanks," you said. "I'm the only one who knows. Me and Rayleigh, and Roger. That's it."

Shanks stepped back, almost unable to comprehend what you'd just said.

"Oh," he said, unexpectedly somber. "And what happens then?"

"Then we go our separate ways," you said. "And Roger is going to turn himself in."

"To the World Government?"

"It's the only way. Or so he's said. I believe him."

Shanks sank down over the side of the railing, gripping the sides to keep himself from falling off. You watched him with concern.

"Can I ask you a question?" he spoke, softly.

You shrugged.

"Shoot."

He raised himself up far enough to make eye contact with you.

"Do you ever think about it?"

"What?"

"Us."

"...Oh," you said. "Us."

Behind you, Shanks paled, already waving off your answer.

"...It was just a question."

"I think of you all the time," you said, trying to avoid the full implications of such a question. "You're one of my best friends."

Shanks stared you down, leaning against the edge of the ship.

"That is not what I mean," said Shanks. "I think that you know."

You did know.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and placed your hands on his shoulders. He looked at you, unblinkingly.

"I can't," you enunciated, staring at his shoes before meeting his gaze. "I can't let there be an us."

"But there could be."

You needed to end this now.

Still clutching his shoulders, you bent your head past his face, lips brushing against his ear.

You knew you held his heart in your hands. You knew you were about to crush it.

"I need a man," you spoke carefully, "And you are still just a boy."

taglist: @sordidmusings@foggyturtleknightangel@twinklesnake@toertchen@96jnie@lunanight1021

[scoobydoodean]

Hi! I just wanted to start off by saying that your analyses on the characters are awesome and they really helped further my understanding of the show, so keep up the good work! :D

I was wondering, if you don't mind answering, what did you think of about Dean giving permission for Gadreel/Ezekiel to possess Sam in season 9?

I'm still a bit on the fence about how to feel about it and I thought your particular brand of wisdom might be able to help me out.

Dean had just a few pieces of information at the hospital in 9.01.

Dean knew that Sam had every intention of surviving The Trials in 8.14 and in fact Sam promised he would survive them and show Dean to the light at the end of the tunnel, because Dean was suicidal: "I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you. [...] I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it."

Dean observed that Sam became suicidal over the course of The Trials and that this culminated in Sam forsaking his promise and his desire to live and falling into a tailspin where he wanted to die to make himself "pure". Disturbing dialogue from 8.21: "Knights of the Round Table. Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and, and he was kneeling, and— and light streaming over his face, and— I remember... thinking, uh, I could never go on a quest like that. Because I'm not clean. I mean, I w— I was just a little kid. You think... maybe I knew? I mean, deep down, that— I had... demon blood in me, and about the evil of it, and that I'm— wasn't pure? [...] It doesn't matter anymore. Because these trials... they're purifying me."

Dean pleaded with Sam not to kill himself in 8.23, and Sam agreed, asking, "How do I stop?"

These are the details Dean has prior to Sam falling into a coma. He believes that his brother wanted to commit suicide, but that he did change his mind and decide he wants to live.

Two other notable details:

First, Gadreel earns Dean's trust quickly by risking his ass to help Dean, and then on the phone (after being given the fake name "Ezekiel") Cas, relieved and pleased, vouches for Ezekiel. So Dean has no reason to suspect anything nefarious (and in fact, at this point, Gadreel doesn't have particularly nefarious intentions besides staying in hiding away from other angels).

Second, Dean is not the one who pleads with Sam to live in the dream sequence, getting him to say "Yes". It can't be Dean, because 1) "Dean's" face morphs into Gadreels which is clearly intended to indicate to us that this wasn't Dean speaking 2) If Gadreel was somehow projecting the real Dean into the conversation to give that speech, then Gadreel wouldn't be the one receiving the consent. It would truly be Dean receiving it and not just Gadreel pretending. Those words HAVE to come from Gadreel's mouth for the possession to work—not Dean's. We've seen angels morph into loved ones and mimic their voices perfectly several times.

With all that in mind:

After Gadreel pitches his plan to possess Sam, Dean immediately says it isn't his call to make—it's Sam's. It's after Gadreel shows him Sam falling back into the same suicidality from 8.23—wanting to die so that "no one else can get hurt because of me"—that Dean wavers. Still—at the end of the day, whether Sam agrees to live or not was never Dean's choice, and this is something I often see people get mixed up about. Dean doesn't get to choose whether Sam dies or not. It is still Sam who chooses to live. Sam does this by saying "Yes" to Gadreel. This could not have happened if Sam hadn't changed his mind about living. He doesn't know he's going to be possessed, but he has once again beaten back his suicidality and chosen to live. Sam still had hope in a good future.

Sam chose to live. He did not know he was going to be possessed. That's the issue. However, Dean did not intend to keep Gadreel's possession from Sam after it happened. Dean and Gadreel have this conversation upon leaving the hospital:

DEAN So? How's it look in there? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY Not good. There is much work to be done. DEAN Yeah, but he's gonna wake up, right? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY He will. DEAN So, what he does – what, is he gonna feel you inside, triaging his spleen? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY He will not feel me, no. There is no reason for Sam to know I'm in here at all. DEAN You're joking. No, this is – this is too big. EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY And what will he do if you do tell him he is possessed by an angel? DEAN Well, he'll have to understand.

This conversation suggests that Dean's initial thought process was "We perform supernatural life-saving surgery". He just wanted to get Sam to a point where he'd wake up and they could talk. Like any situation with a relative in a coma, that person in a coma can't consent to surgery. The next of kin is the one who gives consent, because their loved one can't. They can only consent to a procedure if awake to do so. So Dean doesn't stop Gadreel from performing life saving surgery, but his intial belief and intent is that they'll put all of this back in Sam's hands when he's awake.

Up to this point, I don't actually have a problem with what Dean's done based on his knowledge. It's here at the end of the episode, where Gadreel convinces Dean to depart from his intial intent and stall, that in my opinion, the "Dean doing something wrong" part starts:

EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY And if he does not? Without his acceptance, Sam can eject me at any time, especially with me so weak. And if Sam does eject me, he will die. DEAN Then we keep it a secret for now. Or until Sam's well enough that he doesn't need an angelic pacemaker or I find a way to tell him. I - I... As for him being in a hospital, I'll have to figure something out. EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY I can erase it all, if you like. He will not remember any of this.

Dean doesn't feel good about it, but he agrees to keep quiet, because he's scared Sam will yet again make a suicidal play. Dean is riddled with guilt in the following episodes over lying to Sam, and in 9.08, Dean tries to tell Sam he's possessed, but Gadreel takes over Sam's body and stops him. Dean comes clean again in 9.09, only for Gadreel to stop Sam from receiving the news again.

So. Dean's mistake is lying to Sam. He shouldn't have lied to him. Point blank. At the same time, had Dean pushed the issue, would Gadreel have been willing to be expelled? Would he ever have allowed Dean to tell Sam the truth, from the moment he was... installed? Or was Dean screwed from the beginning, and was the idea that he got to choose any of this—any bit of it—really just... an illusion to keep Dean compliant with the possession that was keeping Gadreel under the radar?

Think about it for a second. Why did Gadreel ask Dean's permission? He didn't ever need Dean's permission to do any of this. He didn't need Dean's permission to trick Sam. He didn't need Dean's permission to remove Sam's memory of the hospital. He didn't need Dean's permission to keep the fact that he was possessing Sam a secret. He could have done every bit of this without asking. The problem was, Dean probably would have caught onto the disappearing angel act, and Gadreel would have had to get violent, and for the first part of season 9, Gadreel doesn't want to get violent! He just wants a place to lay low, and sees an opportunity to prove he's a good angel who helps humans—not just the angel who let the serpent into the garden. Getting Dean's "consent" might ease his own conscience about nonconsensual possession or be a way to keep Dean compliant or both, but ultimately, these are more questions worth weighing imo, because Supernatural loves to toy with the illusion that Dean has power in situations where he doesn’t, and in this case, he doesn't... actually have any power at all... does he?

That said, when it comes right down to it, Dean still did something wrong by helping keep the secret—by not trying to tell Sam the truth immediately because he was scared. And well. Okay. So what?

This is a show with characters who have good intentions but still make mistakes. As Cas will say about this later, "You were stupid for the right reasons". We get some great insights into the pitfalls that lead Dean down this path, and it's interesting to watch that happen and then later, see a broken mirror as Sam endeavors to prove through season 10 what Dean is willing to do can't touch what Sam is ultimately willing to do to keep Dean around.

Here's the thing—I don't believe for a single second that Sam wouldn't do the exact same thing in 9.01 had their positions been reversed. Sam and Dean have a conversation along these lines at the end of 9.13 "The Purge":

DEAN All right, you want to be honest? If the situation were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing. SAM No, Dean. I wouldn't. Same circumstances...I wouldn't. 

This genuinely wounds Dean and gets brought up a few times, but then in 9.23 when it's brought up for the last time in another context:

DEAN What happened with you being okay with this? SAM I lied.

Sam never gets the chance to do the exact same thing to Dean, but he has already gone behind Dean's back to try and save his life before. He's used Dean's death to justify doing things Dean begged him not to do on his behalf. He kept the case they were actually on under wraps as he inched toward a plan to turn himself and Dean into Frankenstein's monsters in 3.15 (and really the only reason it didn't work is that Sam got captured by Doc Benton and Dean had to save his ass, and then Sam morosely helped dig the grave). Sam went behind Dean's back directly against his wishes to threaten a crossroad's demon in 3.05. In season 10, he violates Dean's consent by removing the Mark of Cain from Dean's arm using the Book of the Damned, which not only requires an overt human sacrifice of Oskar and gets a woman named Suzie killed in "The Werther Project" because Sam refuses to heed her warnings, but also results in the apocalypse... and all of this was something Dean asked Sam not to do, and Sam did every bit of it to get his brother back, and while standing in the wreckage in 11.01, echoed Dean's line from 9.13, saying, "I would do it again". Dean signed the supernatural possession next-of-kin consent form, and the fallout was Kevin and Sam. Sam violated Dean's consent and tens of thousands of people died and he said he'd do it again while they died around him.

[theshipperqueenisnotdone]

Will share more lore facts about that yandere heaven au with Sir Pentious? I want to know if your gonna do more for it.

You don't understand how happy I am to see this. If I hadn't had a mental breakdown earlier, then I would cry right now, anyway.

Here are a few ideas for each character's behavior. Remember, this is still a prompt with ideas, not a full story yet (😏). So I might add more to this AU. Also, please give me some feedback and ideas about this AU; I would love to hear your opinion 😍.

INFORMATION

PART 1

💙 🕊 🐨 E M I L Y 🐨 🕊 💙

Let's be for real. Emily is the most likely to help Sir Pentious. At first she would be confused to why would Sir Pentious would leave but once she hears his reasons, she'd totally get it. Actually, she might even decide to tag along with him! And you know what?

It's not like the heaven would mind right? Right?

💛 💙 💐 S A I N T P E T E R 💐 💙 💛

Peter would do anything to avoid Sir Pentious' requests. It would be a lie if Peter didn't admit that he grew attached to him. Other than Emily, Peter was Sir Pentious' first friend (Molly was the second) in heaven, and oh boy! Does Peter make sure that everyone knows it. Which, speaking of that, Peter never thought he'd be so prideful about such a simple friendship, was he acting too.. Prideful and Possessive… Oh, who is he kidding!? Of course, he's proud of being his first friend!

If there is a definition of purity and angelic behavior, Sir Pentious would be a perfect example! Yes, he is going to ignore that he was a demon because he doesn't live there anymore; he is in heaven now! Where everyone doesn't worry about anything! So when Sir Pentious asked to visit hell to see his friends…

This is the first time where Peter ever, EVER, wanted to deny someone respect so badly. Yes, he does feel bad for denying Sir Pentious' request, but it's for his own good! Hell is a terrible place! He may have lived there before, but he is an angel now! Demons will take advantage of that if he ever goes down there again. And besides, heaven is a place where they got no worries, got no burglaries, no strife, It's the perfect afterlife! He has done everything to distract Sir Pentious to avoid his request and just hopes that Sir Pentious gives up.

So of course, Peter snitched when he learned that Emily and Sir Pentious tried to go to hell. He is sure that Sir Pentious would understand what he has done.

[cherrycola27]

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Eventual smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Series Master List Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 2: First 100 Days

One hundred days. You had been Chief of Staff for one hundred days. You couldn't believe it.

What you couldn't believe more was the fact that Bradley's approval rating was high. The highest of any president's every in recent history for their first one hundred days in office. The people loved him.

You had worked hard to keep him on the right track. He might be running the country, but you were running him.

These first one hundred days hadn't been easy by any means, but you felt a sense of relief that you had pulled them off. You felt confident that if you had made it this far, you could see it through for the next four years.

You had just finished meeting with your staff for a morning briefing when Jenson, one of the secret service agents came up to you.

"Ma'am, we have a situation that requires your attention in the West Wing." He tells you. You tell your assistant Tamera to hold your calls and reschedule your morning meetings as you follow Jenson.

A few minutes later, you enter the Oval Office. You find Jake sitting on a couch, cigar in hand, and Bradley is sitting in his chair with his back turned to you.

"Mr. Vice President, Mr. President, you requested to see me."

"Ms. Wiseman," Bradley begins. He turns around dramatically and kicks his feet up on the desk. You notice he, too, has a cigar in hand. In your mind, you think that it is way too early for them to smoke a cigar, but when they are some of the most powerful men in the world, logic doesn't make sense.

"Have a seat." Bradley continues. You quickly sit. Something about the way his voice is doesn't sit right with you. He's calm yet authoritative. Normally, he is much softer with you.

He gets up from his desk and walks over to you. He sits on the coffee table in front of you.

"Do you know what today is, Ms. Wiseman?" He asks you. "It's your one hundredth day in office, sir, we have a dinner and a speech planned for tonight. Is there something I am forgetting?" You ask him. Your palms are starting to sweat. Bradley has never made you this nervous.

"Yes, but what is the date?" He tilts his head. You look past him to Jake who is also staring you down.

"April 29th, sir." You reply. "Precisely." He claps his hands and stands up. "And do you know what is important about April 29th Ms. Wiseman?" He asks you as he walks back to his desk.

Your mind is blank. Surely you hadn't forgotten something about today. You had every meeting, dinner, drink, and everything in between written down.

You search through your planner and phone as Bradley fiddles with something at his desk. You miss the smirk Jake has on his face as you get flustered.

Suddenly, a small gift bag appears in your line of sight.

You look up at Bradley, who is holding it with a smile.

You look to Jake once again, who is also smiling.

"Did you forget?" Jake asks you. You look at him confused. "Oh my god, you did forget!" He exclaims before he and Bradley break out into a fit of laughter.

You look at them like they are crazy.

"Um, hello!? Does anyone want to fill me in?" You snap your fingers at them.

"Y/N, it's your birthday! You forgot your own birthday!" Bradley gasps as he wipes a tear from his eye.

You pause, and then it hits you. It really is your birthday. Today, you're thirty years old. "I've been so busy it just slipped my mind." You sigh. The two men finally stop laughing.

"You know, you really had me freaked out. I thought it was something serious." You tell Bradley. "It is something serious! It's your thirtieth birthday!" He exclaims, holding out the gift bag again.

You take it from his hands. Inside is a pair of oval cut diamond post earrings. You take one look at them and know they will match you pendant he gave you on inauguration night perfectly. You smiled as you touched the pendant around your neck. You'd worn it every day since then, like a good luck charm.

You found a card in the bottom. You quickly opened it, and read it.

"What?!" You shrieked, shooting up from your seat.

"Is that a good 'what' or a bad 'what'?" Bradley asked you as the smile from his face drops.

"A bad one! You rescheduled or canceled my meetings for next week without telling me? You cleared my schedule without asking me first?!" You yell at him.

Bradley and Jake had tried to do something nice for you for your birthday. They had made it possible for you to have to have the week off to spend it in the Caribbean with your best friend at a resort. They'd arranged and paid for everything and cleared your schedule without telling. They now realized what a bad idea it was.

"We were trying to be nice!" Bradley defends as you storm towards him. He tries to duck behind his desk, but you beat him and deliver a harsh smack to his chest.

"Ow!" He exclaims. "You know I could have you arrested for that." He tells you. "You won't. You'd be lost without me. Which is why I don't understand why you thought this was a good idea." You throw your arms up and walk away from him.

"Wise-woman, you've been working so hard for us. We thought you deserved a break." Jake tells you. "Plus, everything is non-refundable, so you have to go."

"I'm the Chief of Staff for the president. I could get a refund." You state.

"You're going, and that's final." Bradley states. You know there is no changing his mind. You head to your room and pack. You call your best friend to tell her the news, but she already knows. The two of you leave out tomorrow at noon.

Since your schedule is wide open, you take a look over the final draft for Bradley's speech for tonight. You head to the gym for a quick workout, then to your bathroom for a long hot shower.

You fix your hair and makeup before dawning your necklace and new earrings. You slip into a sleek black cocktail dress and head to the dining room.

You spend the evening fielding questions and keep Bradley on track. His speech goes remarkably well.

Soon, everyone is ushered out of the White House, and it's residence can make their way to bed.

Before you leave for your trip, you make sure your staff, Bradley, and Jake all swear to you that they will call you if they need you. They wish you safe travels before seeing you on your way.

You meet your best friend Jaycee at the airport the next day. The two of you spend time catching up before flying first class to the US Virgin Islands. You're gone three days before your phone rings.

"Hello, Ms. Wiseman?" A voice speaks on the line.

"Yes, this is she." You confirm.

"Please hold for the Vice President." The line goes silent before Jake's panicked voice calls out. "Y/N, we need you back in Washington. We have a situation. I've arranged a jet to come and get you and Jaycee in two hours." He tells you before the line goes dead.

Two hours later, you're on a plane. Four hours after that, you're stateside. A car picks you up from the airport while another escorts Jaycee home. You're pulled into a conference room the minute you get in the door.

"Ms. Wiseman, sit." Your assistant tells you.

You ignore her and walk over to Bradley and Jake, who are huddled with the press team.

"I'm going for three days. Three days! And you've fucked something up, haven't you?" You yell at Bradley.

"Y/N—listen to me! I swear it's a lie!" Bradley defends himself.

"What's a lie?" You ask him. "No one told you?" Jake asks you. "No, no one has told me anything. My phone has been out of service since I got on the plane. What is going on?" You demand.

One of the press team members slides a folder to you. You open it up and read the headline, "Daddy Dearest? Former staff member claims she had an affair with President Bradshaw and is pregnant with his child." You go on to read that the staff member claims,"she was fired for revealing her pregnancy to the Commander in Chief." You read on and see the woman's name and a picture of her.

You know exactly who she is. You fired her. Not because she was pregnant, but because you caught her trying to steal encrypted information about the president's schedule, and you had caught her sneaking in the living quarters. She had been stalking Bradley.

You look up from the paper and back to Bradley.

"Please—please for the love of God, tell me you didn't sleep with the crazy chick who was stalking you? Oh my god, was that the reason she was stalking you?!" You exclaim.

"No, I didn't sleep with her. I haven't slept with any of the staff. I haven't had sex in months!" Bradley barks out. Jake snickers. You cut your eyes at him, and he immediately stops.

"Okay. Don't worry, I can handle this. I have a plan but I need some help." You tell them.

"Jenson, get my friend Jaycee Marchetti on the phone. She works for The Washington Post. I can get us ahead of this. Mr. President, we are going to release a counter statement. Davners, call Emily Feilding at CorpLabs. She owes me a favor. Rogers, get me the personal file on our bitter friend here. I need to know where she lives and who her medical provider is." You command the people in the room.

Everyone starts moving as you head to your office.

You look over a few things and see that this story hit the press late last night. Some garbage tabloid published it, and it went viral on social media. Damn those GenZers.

It takes forty-eight hours for your plan to be put in motion. Just like you suspect. This woman has faked everything.

Your friend Jaycee was able to keep the story out of The Post and has kept running positive pieces about Bradley.

Once you found out where the whistle blower lived, you had her followed by a P.I. and you have more than enough evidence after two days to use against her.

You got a copy of her medical records, and there is no proof of pregnancy. But just in case, you have Emily on standby.

You're at the door waiting for her when the secret service escorts her in and leads her to a room with just the two of you.

"Shannon," you being as she sits down. "Oh how wish I could say it was nice to see you, but we both know it isn't.

You grimace as she smirks at you.

"Can we make this quick? I have an interview with the Evening Show in a few hours, and I need to be ready for it." She deadpans.

"Oh, I'm going to make this very quick. Let's cut to the chase. You and I both know you aren't pregnant. You're mad because you got fired for trying to steal the president's encrypted schedule and for trying to sneak into his private bedroom." You tell her.

"You're wrong! I am pregnant with his baby. And I'm going to make sure all of America knows." Shannon insists.

"No, the fuck you aren't." You breathe out.

"You see, Ms. McAllen, one great thing about working for the White House is that we keep all of your personal information on file. So I was very easily able to find your home address and have one of my P.I.s follow you the past two days. And do you want to know where they followed you to?" You ask her.

You watch the smirk fall from her face.

"They followed you to not one, but two bars. And, I have photographic and video evidence of you consuming multiple alcoholic beverages. Now, I've never been pregnant myself, but every American with even the tiniest bit of common sense knows that if you're pregnant, you can't consume alcohol." You state. She leans back in her chair and opens her mouth to speak, but you cut her off.

"Also, they followed you to your gynecological appointment on Friday. I was able to pull your records from that appointment and see that you were going in for an IUD insertion. Do you know the great thing about getting an IUD? They perform a pregnancy test just to be safe! My wonderful friend Emily at CorpLabs got me a copy of your results. Can you read what it says right there for me?" You ask her as you slide the folder to her.

"It says that I'm not pregnant." She stutters out.

"Exactly." You smirk at her.

"So, here's what's going to happen. You're going to go on the Evening Show, and you're going to tell everyone that you lied. You were upset that got fired, not for having an affair with the president but for stalking him. You're going to tell them you've been unstable since you stopped taking your medication, but you're going to get help. Then, some nice officers are going to escort you out, and no one is ever going to hear from you again." You tell her.

"But I don't take any medication! I don't have mental problems, " Shannon shouts at you.

"Not according to what I have here. This file says you have bipolar depression and anxiety." You point to the file.

"But, this is—you made this up." She shreiks.

"Maybe I did, but the people won't know that. They'll believe what it tell them."

"This is illegal! You can't do this. I won't do it!" She screams.

"Fine, have it your way. But I guarantee you that if you don't do things my way, I will make your life a living hell. I have the heads of every major news outlet on speed dial. My friend Jaycee at The Post has the files and photos ready to publish. All I have to do is say the word, and all of this gets leaked." You walk around the table to stand over her.

"I will make you public enemy number one. The people love the president. He is America's golden boy. Do you know why? Because I made him that! If this gets out, you won't be able to go to work, the grocery store, the mall, the metro, or anything else. You won't be able to leave your shithole apartment without someone recognizing your face and instantly hating you for the lies you told and the trouble you cause him. You have no idea the amount of hell I can ran down on you, you vicious little bitch" You shout at her.

"You— you—you can't do this to me." She chokes out.

"I can, and I will because I am Y/N fucking Wiseman and I am the best at what I do. Do you think I made it this far without being cut throat? Do you think that I won't do every possible thing in my power to ruin you because you've come after something I care about? I have no problem gaslighting, gatekeeping, or girlbossing ANYONE who threatens someone I care about. I am the author of this narrative, and the truth is what I say it is." You sneer at her as you watch the last bit of hope die in her eyes.

You hold eye contact with her, as she cowers in her chair.

"Okay— fine —you win." She sighs, admitting defeat. "But I want some sort of financial compensation." She demands.

"Oh hell no, Shannon. You don't get to come here and threaten everything that I have worked so hard for and then try to get a payout. The president doesn't negotiate with terrorists and neither do I. Your payment is me not leaking this information and ruining what shred of dignity you have left. Now, do we have a deal, or would you like to fuck around and find out?" You stare down at her intensely.

"We have a deal." She breathes out. "Good, now I need you to sign a few things for legal reasons, in case you ever try a stunt like this again." You hand her some papers and a pen. She quickly signs them and leaves.

You hold your head up high as you exit the room and stride to the Oval Office.

You toss the paperwork onto Bradley's desk. He looks up at you.

"I fixed it, just like I always do." You tell him.

"Thank you!" He sighs in relief.

"Now, what lesson did we learn?" You ask him.

"That I would be lost without you, Sweetheart." He smiles.

"Not exactly what I was going for, but all take it. Now, do you think you can go a few hours without another scandal?" You ask him. He nods.

"Fantastic. Then can you please have a guest room prepared and transportation arrange for my friend Jaycee? I still have two days of vacation, and I'd like to get some use out of them. It's the least you could do — Mr. President." You tease him.

His more than happy to oblige you.

You quickly texted Jaycee to let her know what is going on. Before you go back to your room, you head to the kitchen and grab a bottle of your favorite wine and a corkscrew. You forgo a glass, because after today, you're going to need the whole thing.

Wise-woman came, saw, and conquered! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @thedroneranger @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lt-bradshaw @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @mj-l4 @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @chicomonks @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis

[americas1suiteheart]

Heres something I've been thinking about working on for a while now and I'm finally getting to it. Heres the pilot of it, let me know if you guys want me to make it into a full series (which I might do anyways🧍‍♂️)

Here's the link on Ao3 for the series if you prefer to read on there :)

Weird Science | Pilot Chapter

[Egon Spengler x Fem Reader]

[Summary; honestly I don't know what I'm gonna do with this, I'll leave the summary to finish later.💀

[Notes; This is a fem reader and it is mentioned quite a bit, this is to make things a little easier to write but I may consider making it a gender neutral reader if enough people want it and ask. [This is also kind of a long one for a pilot chapter.]

[Warnings; Some swearing and mentions of smoking. [Also very very minor mentions of drinking.]

Part 1/? | Next Chapter>

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶︶︶꒦꒷

"Hey, can you hand me that soldering iron please?" I say, holding my hand out.

"Of course Dr. L/n," Theodore says, handing the iron carefully.

Theodore Thalmann was a freshman student majoring in Computer Engineering at Columbia University, the very University I've worked at for 7 years now.

Theodore came for an internship to work with me, wanting to learn a little more visually than just reading some book, writing down notes, and listening to some old guy talk for hours on end, and frankly you couldn't really blame him for not wanting to deal with that.

Theodore was a sharp kid, not lazy like most of these kids now, and willing to learn rather than just be here for some extra credit, that's what you liked about him so much.

"Do you need anything else Dr. L/n?" Theodore asks, writing a bit more into his notebook.

Just then, a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts.

"Yes actually, can you go get that for me?" You reply, taking the protective glasses off of your face.

You get up out of your chair, taking off your black rubber gloves and placing them in their respective area. You liked things organised in your lab, it was much easier to find exactly what you needed, and it was also that you never liked a mess where there was work.

"Is Dr. L/n in here? I need to have a word with her." A voice you were far too familiar with comes from the door where Theodore was standing.

Oh, this can't be good.

"Yes she is, come on in Mr. Yeager," Theodore says, letting the man inside the lab.

"Ms. L/n, pleasure to see you again.. as always." The man says snarkily.

You turn around and walk towards him.

"Hello, Mr. Yeager. Come to complain about the music volume again? I promise I hadn't played anything today, whatever you might've heard must've been someone else."

"No, actually, I wanted to talk to you about something more serious. Do you think you can get this student to be somewhere else so its a more private conversation?" The Dean says, smiling sarcastically.

Dean Yeager wasn't exactly fond of you, hense the use of your last name rather than Dr. L/n, regardless of how hard you had worked for that title. But to be quite fair, you weren't very fond of him either, so it was more of a mutual hate. There were probably a lot of reasons why he wasn't very big on you, but one of the most obvious had to be the fact that you played your music too loud while you worked. Far.. too loud.

"Of course sir. Um, Mr. Thalmann, would you mind stepping outside for a few moments? Me and Dean Yeager need to speak to eachother in private," You say, turning towards Theodore.

Theodore gives a nod and takes off his pair of gloves, placing them haphazardly on a nearby worktable then stepping outside of the lab, shutting the door.

"So, Ms. L/n, I wanted to inform you that you will no longer be working here at the university, I'm giving you a one month notice so that way you may pack all that you have and get out of here by then, is that understood?" Dean Yeager says, a shit eating grin on his face.

"Excuse me?" You say, after a few moments of silence.

"I said you are out of here in a month, fired, let go of, from the university, Ms. L/n," He repeats, venom laced in his voice.

"But wh-what am I supposed to do about Mr. Thalmann? I can't just tell him-" You stutter, still letting the fact you're being fired sink in.

"We will move him with Professor Dietz, someone that actually has a degree to teach, Ms. L/n". He says, cutting you off.

"But I've worked here for more than five years now, you can't just let me go. I graduated from this very University Mr. Yeager, for what reason do I deserve to be let go?" You say, anger becoming more prominent in your voice as you continue to speak.

"We are letting you go because of the constant loud music, because of the constant loss of electricity on the campus due to your failed experiments, because of your lack of necessity and funding of being here, Ms. L/n. We cannot continue to fund and pay you just for you to cause disruptions and only be useful to students if they are working under you as an intern. Even when you do have them, they only complain about how you do absolutely nothing in ways of teaching them, you are the issue, Ms. L/n."

The students don't think I teach them? But they've never complained.

The thought of the past interns you've had having bad thoughts about you and your ways of teaching them hurt far more then being fired. Sure, you got good pay from the university and your projects were funded, but the students wanting to come in and learn more about what you just so happen to love was the reason why you were still working there in the first place. And sure, you would sometimes blast music while showing and teaching them, but they never complained.

"The students never complain though, I do my absolute best to teach them Mr. Yeager, I don't underst-"

"That is the last of this conversation, Ms. L/n! You will be out of here in one month, and you will get no more students doing internships with you from right now to the day that you are completely gone from this place! Goodbye, Doctor." Dean Yeager says, walking out of the lab, shutting the door.

After a few moments Theodore comes back into the lab, slowly and gently closing the door.

"Ah, Mr. Thalmann, um there's going to be a change in plans for you with this internship unfortunately. I hope you don't mind but you'll be moved to go and work with Professor Dietz starting tomorrow, I do apologise," You say, straightening your back.

Theodore stays quiet for a minute, the air thick with awkwardness.

"What Dean Yeager said about all the other students disliking you and your teaching, I don't agree with him. I like your teaching and don't think its right of Dean Yeager to just fire you on the spot like that, Dr. L/n." Theodore says awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood of the room.

"Thank you, Mr. Thalmann, but unfortunately that still doesn't change my situation about my work here. I truly do appreciate all of your help and willingness to learn more, especially from me for these past couple of weeks. You're a great student and I'll be honest, I envy Professor Dietz for getting to teach you," You say, a slight smile on your face.

"Thank you, Dr. L/n, do you need any help cleaning up?" Theodore asks, taking the rubber gloves from the table and placing them next to yours.

"No, no, there's no need for that at all, you're free to go early today, thank you for the help Mr. Thalmann."

"Alright, thank you again for teaching me Doctor, I hope everything else goes well for you," Theodore puts the lab coat you let him borrow folded up onto a clear table, then leaves the lab.

You sit down in your rolly chair, clearly worn out as it was bought almost 8 years ago in the late 70s. Even with its rips and threads sticking out from it, as well as the black soot stains and worn cushions, it was still comfortable and somewhat soothing. It reminded you of when you first started working here, about a year after you graduated from the university. And now that you think about it it makes you a little upset that for the past 12 years now this university is all you knew.

Sure you had your own apartment and went out for groceries sometimes, but you never had friends that you still kept in touch with, so you never really went to bars or parties. And at this point having an apartment proved useless as most of the time you would fall asleep in your lab, you would eat in the university's cafeteria, and after that you would just get back to work and drown every other sound out with music from the radio or your cassette tapes.

You get up and grab your coat, leaving the lab to go outside.

You pat your pockets and pull out the cigarette tin, hoping you hadn't run out of any, and to your relief you had just two more left. Grabbing one out of the tin and placing it lightly hanging from your mouth, then lighting it and inhaling the smoke.

You make a mental note that you'll have to go to the drugstore and buy some more.

"What the hell am I gonna do now?" You mutter to yourself, taking another drag of your cigarette.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

You turn your head to see an old friend you hadn't been in touch with since you've graduated at this university.

"Ray?"

"It is you! Oh am I glad to see you. Its been, gosh, how many years now? How have you been? What are you doing here?" Ray says excitedly, asking a million questions all at once.

"Its so great to see you too, Ray. I've been okay these past years, and I work here actually." You say, giving a light chuckle.

Well, more so like you worked here.

"You work here?"

"Yeah, I've been working here since after we graduated actually, what are you doing in terms of a job?"

"I work here too actually, I'm surprised I never seen you around here. You remember Venkman and Spengler though?" He says, taking a half used cigarette out of his pocket.

"Yeah, how can I not remember Venkman, the guy constantly harassed and flirted with me until I graduated, kinda annoying. But I don't recall ever speaking to or interacting with Spengler though."

"Well I've actually been working with them two for a couple of years now, we're working on some equipment and studies to see if ghosts and entities are actually real, parapsychology you know. It would kinda make sense for you to not remember Spengler though, he was a quiet isolated sorta guy. Mind lending me your light?" Ray rambles on, gesturing for your lighter.

You hand him the lighter, taking another drag from your cigarette yourself as he lights his.

"That's neat, I honestly can't believe that I hadn't known you were here though, I would've loved to talk to you and hang out more after graduation," You say, grabbing your lighter back from Ray.

"We should go out for drinks sometime! It'd be a great way to catch up with eachother, I could bring the other guys too! Maybe all of us could ask you questions about our equipment. Given that I don't really know how to do it and all but you're the one that got a Doctoral in Computer Engineering and'll know a bit more than me, but mostly just to hang out with eachother again, like old times!" Ray says excitedly, a smile on his face.

"I'd love to go for drinks with you guys, not sure I'll be of any much use now though because I've just gotten fired by Yeager and have to move all my stuff out by a month from now, so studying and doing experiments are not something I'll get to work on for a while now," You chuckle, putting your cigarette out on the palm of your hand.

"Oh thats such a shame, Y/n I'm sorry that happened. It seems like Yeager has got a grudge on you too, huh?" Ray says sympathetically, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah but honestly, I totally deserved it. Do you remember those series of blackouts throughout the campus that would happen twice a week? Those were all me and it took him 5 years to get sick of it and finally fire my ass,"

You laugh, now feeling a bit better about the loss, mostly because you get to speak with Ray again.

"I heard from some of the other professors that the cause was coming from the engineering and computer science halls, it reminded me of you in a way, and it seems I was right about it!" Ray laughs, letting out a dry cough afterwards.

God, Ray has always had such bad smoking problems. I can't say all that much though because that'd be too hypocritical but that cough is starting to get worse.

You two continue talking a while longer, forgetting how long you've been out there until hearing all the ruckus from the students getting released from their classes.

"I should get going now, Peter and Egon are probably wondering where I went by now. Oh! How can I get in touch with you by the way?" Ray says, turning back around toward you.

"I'm usually over here in my lab but it seems it won't be like that much longer, but here's the number for my home telephone, call me if you need or want to plan anything and if I don't answer leave me a message for my answer box," You say, pulling out a notepad and pen from your pocket, scribbling the number down, ripping out the page and handing it to Ray.

"Thanks Y/n, I'll remember to call you later on! Sorry about the whole getting fired thing, by the way, but I hope we see more of eachother. I'll talk to you later!" Ray says, taking the paper and waving goodbye as he runs off to a different area of the university.

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

Once you were back into the lab, you looked around to see what you should start packing. You didn't have much space at your apartment so you would either probably have to rent out a storage unit or call your parents to see if they could store some of it in their attic at home.

First I need to get boxes, and then a bunch of bubble wrap and foam so none of my equipment or computers break. I'll have to go and buy some from the post office.

You go and grab your keys and head back outside of your lab, locking the door before you leave. Walking to your car, you take your keys and unlock the door of it.

As you sit down and turn the key it stalls, taking a few more tries before it finally starts. I really gotta get a new car or at least get it checked out.

You start to drive to the nearest post office, and due to the horrible New York traffic it took you about 20 minutes to get to it even if it was only half a mile away. But that's what you got yourself into deciding to move to one of the most populated states in the US.

You park, grab your wallet, lock your car, and proceed into the post office.

You see the large amount of people in there, checking their post boxes, mailing out letters, and waiting to get their packages accepted to be sent out.

You walk to the area they have the boxes set up, grabbing a few medium sized ones and proceeding to the shortest line so you can purchase them. Once finally at the front, you place the flattened boxes onto the table.

The man nodded and pulled out a large roll of bubble wrap, placing it on top of the boxes.

"Hello, just these and also, do you guys have the big rolls of bubble wrap?" You say to the man at the desk, who already looked far too tired.

"Is that all, ma'am?"

You nod, taking your wallet out of your coat pocket so that way you have your money ready.

The man punches numbers into his machine, looking at each thing on the desk as he does so.

"That'll be $21.47, ma'am."

You take 22 dollars out of your wallet, handing them to the man as he takes it, placing the bills into the register and grabbing a few coins for your change and handing them and the receipt to you.

You thank the man and take the boxes and bubble wrap with you, struggling slightly at how awkward it was to hold the 10 flat boxes and bubble wrap in your arms.

You open the trunk of your car, putting the boxes and bubble wrap in, just barely fitting to where you can close the trunk door.

God, this is gonna suck.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦︶︶︶꒦꒷

I literally wrote all of this in about 7 maybe 9 hours total because I just thought up something and was like, "oh yeah, this'll be great," and that's at least what I'm hoping now. I want this to kinda be slow burn and I know that's what I always say when I do series, and I never finish them, but I am really hoping I'll be able to do more with this then my other failed attempts at series [if I take longer than a month to get another chapter of this out I want you all to yell at me and tell me to finish it]

[Word count; 2,769