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jo-harrington · 1 year

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Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 2)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 8.4k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love, mutual pining, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 2 either but the next chapter does get steamy.

Note: Ok big shout out to @ghost-proofbaby for her Steve lessons and just generally being a Steve soundboard. I'm not a Steve girl yet but...idk. And then also to @trashmouth-richie for being so supportive and listening as I ramble on about plot things. I admire you both as writers and love you guys as friends; thank you for your support.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“No, no, no,” Steve whined as he approached the mirror, squishing his face and pinching at his cheeks. “This is a dream. I’m still asleep. Or I’m dead.”

He cleared his throat a few times, slapped it, pinched his Adam's apple. He used every bit of willpower in him to stop the voice that was coming out of his mouth from being Eddie’s voice. It didn't stop that everything else was Eddie's though.

Eddie’s hair. His face. His body.

Steve was in his house—trailer, Steve recalled. It was a trailer. He was wearing his clothes. Sleeping in his bed.

Steve vaguely recalled the thing he thought last night when Eddie left Family Video.

A curse.

Eddie had put a curse on Steve. Steve had made Eddie pay non-member prices for his stupid video rental and Eddie put a fucking curse on him?!

There was a knock at the door and Steve jumped.

"Everything alright in there Ed?" a hoarse, muffled voice asked.

"Uhhh," Steve tried to come up with some kind of response, but suddenly all of the excuses he could ever come up with eluded him. Every scrap of knowledge he had ever reluctantly learned about Eddie Munson—thwip—gone.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to focus, get in the moment, clear his head. If this was a basketball game or a swim meet, he would never let himself get this worked up.

"I'm fine," he started and then paused.

Eddie's parents weren't around anymore, who did he live with? The kids had mentioned it once or twice, said the guy was nice, a little rough around the edges. Said he let Eddie do whatever he wanted for the most part. His uncle...

"I'm fine Uncle W-wayne," Steve answered.

"Late for school," Wayne sighed. "You skipping again?"

"I--"

Steve didn't know what kind of excuse to come up with. What kind of excuses did Eddie give his uncle? His attendance was abysmal, Steve knew, and on the days he was in class, his attention was barely there. Always scribbling and doodling and cracking jokes when he was called on to answer.

He should have just dropped out the first time he failed, a fact that Steve had mocked him for repeatedly, let alone this second time.

Fuck, but if Steve was stuck in Eddie's body, he couldn't not go to school. He had enough trouble with his high school diploma, let alone without one. Maybe...maybe he could ask Dustin to help with his—

Dustin.

That little brat would be at school. Of course. He and others...they were a part of this little cult...maybe they knew what Eddie did to him? Or they could help him at the very least figure out how to reverse this curse.

"Listen son," Wayne continued. "I know it's hard to do this all over again; I told you that you didn't—"

"No, it's ok," Steve quickly cut him off. "I just slept in...accidentally. I'll go. I'm late but I'll go."

"Alright, whatever you say. I got a fresh pot going for you but I'm gonna get cleaned up and hit the hay alright?"

"Sounds good," Steve replied absentmindedly, staring around the room trying to figure out what, in all of the piles of clothing and junk, he could wear.

"Steve Harrington."

Eddie rummaged through the products in the medicine cabinet. Shampoos and after shaves and hair gels and mousses. Way more interesting and expensive sounding than the bottom shelf stuff he got at Melvald's.

He had to be honest, some of it didn't smell great and he didn't see the appeal. Oh well.

"The name's Harrington, Steve Harrington."

He shuffled through the clothes in the closet and the dressed. A lot of trendy, Sears catalog-looking stuff. Polos and windbreakers and jeans in various shades of blue. All neatly hung and folded, nothing out of place, even the underwear drawer was pristine. Nothing black or ripped or...god forbid a band tee or something like that.

Eddie was gonna have to change that...eventually.

"Hey, uh, have we met before? I'm Steve, Steve Harrington."

After the initial shock of finding that he was, indeed, in Steve's body, a sort-of calmness washed over Eddie. The panic subsided pretty quickly, to be honest; he might have been full of electric, frantic energy that dared to be contained, but he was also very good at improvising and devising a plan thanks to years of DnD.

But what was the plan when you found yourself in someone else's body? There wasn't really a handbook for that but like any good player...he would just have to play the part until the answers were revealed to him. And that meant he would have to become Steve Harrington--know Steve Harrington--in a way that he would have loathed if he wasn't in this situation specifically.

The first step had been checking out what Steve was packing.

Eddie peeled away the tight purple briefs and stared at his dick.

"Alright Harrington, alright," Eddie bobbed his head from side to side in contemplation and then grinned ferally. "Mine's bigger." And with that he adjusted himself back in the underwear and continued on his exploration.

Clothes, shoes, books—or more accurately the lack thereof.

Jesus, how have I failed twice and he graduated?

He dug through drawers, found the stash of dirty magazines under the bed, and then scanned over the calendar neatly pinned above the desk with shifts at Family Video clearly penciled-in in a handwriting that looked way too nice to be Steve's.

Steve would be expected to open the store this morning and Eddie grimaced. It wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his day, but he had a part to play.

He grabbed the little green and orange vest hanging off the back of the desk chair and threw it on over the trendy striped polo that made him itch—did Steve have some kind of allergy or something? God, his chest and arms were just itchy, and it was driving Eddie nuts.

He headed downstairs, through the immaculate house that he vaguely knew the layout of having dealt at a party Steve held last year, to the kitchen to rummage for some kind of breakfast.

He had already checked upstairs and now again as he walked through; the house was empty. Steve's parents gone for the day.

Eddie rolled his eyes as he opened the fridge and found, among the very neat and plentiful groceries, a brown paper lunch bag with the name "Stevie" written on it with a little heart.

"Great," Eddie scoffed bitterly, the first really sour thought he’d had all morning. "His mommy still makes his lunches."

Eddie thought about the handwriting on the calendar upstairs; it was the same as the lunch bag. Thought about the neatly folded clothes, about the extremely tidy rooms. He knew Steve's mom didn't work; she didn't do much of anything except parade around town flaunting her perfect life.

And she was a real bitch.

She was on the Hawkins Town Council and the PTA. She was the first person to call Hellfire Club a cult when they had originally petitioned for some money from the PTA for shirts a few years back. She had called Eddie a menace too many times to count, periodically to his face if he parked a little too close to the front to her liking at Bradley's.

"And she makes her precious baby boy Stevie tuna salad sandwiches and ants on a log like he's 6," Eddie grumbled as he peeked inside the bag. He couldn't remember the last time someone made his lunch for him.

Well he could...in those early days with Wayne. They were both trying to navigate the new living arrangement after his mom had passed. He wasn't that great at peanut butter and jelly or carrot sticks...but he did teach Eddie that you could put potato chips inside of your sandwich though. Taught him how to make the best of a situation, to take care of himself.

So that's what he was going to do. He was gonna make the best out of this situation and play the part and get through the day. Because things were always good—life was always good—if you were Steve Harrington. And he was Steve Harrington now.

"And Steve Harrington," Eddie pushed past the bitterness and found a little spark of goodness. "Drives a BMW."

"Watch where you're going freak!" Someone grunted at Steve as they rammed their shoulder into his as they passed.

"When did everyone get so damn rude?" Steve grumbled to himself. It was the fifth person who had done that today. Hawkins High really had gone to the pits in the past few months since he graduated.

To be fair, everything had really sucked for him so far that day. He thought, Hawkins High was his stomping ground. Just put on the Harrington charm—despite the rough exterior—and everything would work out.

He was so wrong.

First he had gotten detention for being late to class, apparently for the third day that week—

God, Munson needed to get his act together; no wonder he hadn't graduated yet.

—then when he had tried to schmooze Mrs. Worth, the school secretary, into giving him Dustin's schedule, she laughed. And when he asked if he could have a copy of his own schedule, Eddie's schedule, she had just rolled her eyes and said,

"Trying every trick in the book to get out of classes, Edward. I can't help you unless you help yourself."

"How can I help myself if I don't have a schedule Jeanine?" he snarked, figuring Eddie's own signature shitty attitude would get him somewhere instead.

It only added an extra 15 minutes onto his detention.

Great.

Finally he managed to find the crumbled scrap of a class schedule in Eddie's locker—the only locker without a lock on it although he doubted anyone would want to steal from this absolute cesspit—amongst the piles of incomplete homework and garbage and overdue library books. It took everything in Steve not to rip it to pieces when he saw archaic symbols drawn all over it, no doubt another curse Eddie was waiting to enact on someone.

Steve just went through the motions and still got picked on and berated by every teacher and most of the students. Of course, Eddie fucking deserved everything he got. He was a lazy student and a menace, always causing some kind of trouble. But it made Steve especially grumbly that he would now have to deal with the fallout of Eddie's shit. Despite trying to adapt his own good behavior.

"Just gotta find Henderson and this will all have been some silly dream," Steve muttered to himself all day. And thankfully he had survived until lunch and immediately spotted Dustin and Mike as they sat down at the freaks' usual lunch table.

God he needed to get those kids away from Munson and his cult. Especially now that he knew what they could do.

He quickly crossed the busy cafeteria, uncaring of anyone he bumped into or the sharp words they spat at him.

"Henderson, we need to have a little chat," Steve announced as he reached the table. One of the older kids at the table—Steve tried to recall his name: Gary, Garth, Garrett—perked up at the sight of "Eddie" though and started chatting excitedly.

"Hey we were just talking about Hellfire tonight. I know you won't tell us anything but do we ne—”

"Hellfire's canceled," Steve dismissed coldly.

"What?!" They all started talking over one another.

"You never cancel Hellfire."

"Are you sick?"

"Guys he's dying. Or he's lost his mind."

Steve felt the annoyance bubble up inside of him and he raised his voice.

"It's canceled!" He leveled all of them with a scathing look. "I've got detention. Alright?"

"You always have detention," Mike spoke up, then cowered slightly as Steve glared at him. "Y-you've never canceled before..."

"Tough shit. Maybe next week." Steve turned his attention back to Dustin. "Let's go."

He grabbed Dustin by the arm, hauled him out of his seat, and pulled him out of the cafeteria.

As soon as the heavy double doors clicked shut behind them, Steve fell back against the wall and buried his face in his hands.

"Shit! Eddie!" Dustin's demeanor immediately went from fear to concern. "What's going on?"

"'m not Eddie," Steve groaned.

"What?"

"I'm not Eddie!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands out as if it would reveal who he actually was. "It's Steve, I'm Steve."

"O-ok?"

"I'm Steve and I woke up in Eddie's body and I don't know what's happening and I'm..." He started breathing heavily. "I'm so fucking pissed off and I'm so fucking scared."

"Hey listen man, I know," Dustin began hesitantly. "I know you keep telling us that the weed is not for freshman but if this is supposed to scare me—"

"This isn't to scare you," Steve grumbled, grabbing Dustin by the shoulders so he could pull him closer. "I'm not high. And I'm not Eddie. I'm Steve Harrington."

Dustin blinked at him.

"Ok..." he nodded slowly. "You're Steve Harrington? Tell me something only Steve and I would know."

Steve wracked his brain; there were a lot of things that he and Dustin shared, he was closer to Dustin than all of the other kids. But now, so was Eddie...so what was something that Eddie wouldn't know?

"Last year...last December..."

"Yeah?"

"The Snow Ball?"

"Ok?"

"I helped you with your hair...I told you my secret."

"Which was?"

Steve and Dustin stared each other down for a moment before Steve caved.

"Thefarrahfawcettspray," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"The Farrah Fawcett Spray, alright? I swore you to secrecy, I wouldn't tell anyone else, let alone Eddie Munson." He clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth.

"Son of a bitch!" Dustin hissed. "It really is you."

"I told you so, you little punk."

"What did...I mean..." Dustin clutched the bill of his cap with both hands and exhaled. "How?"

"I was hoping you could help me figure that out," Steve sighed. "And how to undo it."

"I think this is a little beyond my academic ability Steve."

"No, not just because you're smart. Because you hang around Munson. He's the one who did this to me."

"Wh-what?" Steve started talking a mile a minute and Dustin stopped him. "Ok, slow down. I'm gonna need you to start over. If you want me to help you, I need to know everything."

Steve spent the rest of lunch explaining everything to Dustin, from the interaction with Eddie at Family Video to feeling off last night during dinner and then waking up in Eddie's body this morning.

Dustin asked, what seemed to be, random questions. Like if he had remembered brushing his teeth the night before, if he’d had any indigestion, or if there were any scars that he had as Steve that might have appeared on "Eddie's" body instead.

"I wasn't exactly eager to check Eddie's body out," Steve scrunched his nose in dismissal.

"You didn't even take a shower or anything?" Dustin asked.

"I mean, no," Steve shrugged. "But now that I think of it...how am I gonna even be able to take a shower. Ugh, I don't want to touch Eddie's junk."

"Your junk," Dustin reminded him.

"Eddie's body," Steve insisted.

"And you're Eddie for the foreseeable future," Dustin shrugged. The bell signaling the end of the period rang and Dustin sighed. "Listen, I'm gonna skip next period and see if the school library has anything useful. But I'm not hopeful."

"Hey, you shouldn't skip class!" Steve argued.

"It's just Latin."

"Which you're failing."

"Skipping one class while you've literally had your mind transplanted into another body over night seems like the correct choice. I'll see you later." Dustin disappeared amongst the throngs of students and Steve sighed, resigned to go through the motions for the rest of the day.

It was a lot more of the same shit he'd gone through in the morning: getting body checked in the hall, having his books slapped out of his hand, teachers purposefully calling on him thinking he wasn't paying attention—even though he was, thank you very much. Although...considering that Eddie's notebooks were filled with doodles and poetry and shit...it wasn't a far stretch to believe that no, Eddie didn't actually pay any attention in class.

Steve actually had never had any classes with Eddie except for PE, really. And the fact that Eddie got into constant arguments with Coach should have been enough of an indicator of his poor academic performance as it was. But he’d based all of his assumptions on other factors. They hadn’t really interacted short of seeing him roaming the halls, the many few times Steve and his friends had mocked the Hellfire kids, even the one or two times Steve had gone up to Eddie himself to coerce him into dealing at a party.

He had always thought of Eddie as a thorn in everyone's side...but now being Eddie...

The bell rang signaling the end of the day and although Steve knew he had to get to the cafeteria for detention, he still went to find Dustin and see if he had any answers.

It wasn't a long search, Dustin was waiting by Eddie's locker looking...incredibly nervous.

"Anything?" Steve asked.

"The school library isn't well-stocked with occult books," Dustin sighed. "Best I could find was this, Mysteries of the Unknown, which I'm gonna read, I just don't think it's gonna help us out very much."

Steve groaned and covered his face with his hands.

This was just great.

“Listen, I’m gonna level with you this is…kind of outside of my expertise here Steve,” Dustin said hesitantly.

“But what about the cult stuff,” Steve asked, throwing his hands out. “You spend every Friday with Hellfire Club.”

“Playing a board game,” Dustin defended. “One that you could have learned by now if you just—”

“You’re telling me there aren’t any spells or...or something that could do this in your little game?"

"It's Dungeons and Dragons. Not Jumanji."

"...does that game maybe have a spell that—"

"No!"

"Well what about all of this shit Eddie has drawn in his notebooks, huh?" Steve fumbled to flip to one of the pages that had little symbols drawn in the corner. "What is this?"

"Probably something for a campaign. Maybe you should ask Eddie?" Steve froze and Dustin frowned. "You...have talked to Eddie about this right? You didn't just...come to school...without talking to Eddie, did you?"

Steve felt like an idiot. Of course Eddie would be in his body if he was in Eddie's. Eddie didn't just...banish Steve...he put a curse on both of them.

"Dustin Henderson, you are a genius." Steve pressed a kiss to Dustin's head, turned on his heel, and ran towards the door. Detention be damned.

"I'm not a genius, you're just an idiot!"

For all of the fears Eddie had about growing up—finally graduating, deciding if he should take some classes at the community college like the guidance counselor suggested ages ago, having to get a job or really throwing everything he had into making Corroded Coffin successful—he was honestly having a good time working at Family Video.

Steve always seemed a little bored and grumpy every time Eddie had stopped in. But it wasn't that bad if Eddie was being honest.

He'd been a little frantic at first, trying to figure out which key unlocked the door, and how to turn on the computer and open the cash register—thankfully there were little handwritten instructions taped under the keyboard—but once everything was up and running, it was a good time. He got to put a movie on—Star Wars, duh—easily chatted with some of the apparent-regulars who came by to make returns, even processed shipments of some new releases. It was a blast.

Eddie vaguely wondered, whenever he found himself back in his own body, if he should apply for a job here.

The bell above the door rang and Eddie turned, expecting to greet customers, only to be met with a fuming Robin Buckley.

Eddie didn’t know Robin very well, but what he did know he respected, if not outright liked. During his first senior year, she and a group of band nerds had gone up against Corroded Coffin in the last round of the Hawkins High Battle of the Bands. Now, he knew that the whole competition was rigged—Corroded Coffin had gotten second place despite being the best metal band in town—but she was pretty cool to shake their hands after the event was over. Tell them how good they were.

Of course, her band did a cover of "We Will Rock You" and "We are the Champions." Kind of cheating if you'd asked Eddie...but they did a pretty good job of it. He couldn't fault the student body for choosing that over the alleged Devil Worship music.

However, gone was the bashful Robin in his memory, and instead there she stood seemingly gearing up for a fight, with her sleeves rolled up and teeth gnashing together as she sneered.

"Forget something today dingus?" Robin asked "Steve" through clenched teeth.

"Uhhh," Eddie fumbled. "I don't kn—"

"Me! You forgot to pick me up for school," Robin exclaimed, hands thrown up in the air in exasperation. "You didn't even call? What gives?"

"I, uh," Eddie wracks his brain for an excuse. Because he didn't know he needed to? Because he wasn't actually Steve? "I accidentally overslept."

"And then I was worried about you," Robin rambled, running a hand through her bangs as she went on. "You could have...crashed into a pole, or...or...had a stroke and drove into a ditch."

"I'm sorry," Eddie offered with a half-smile.

"You better be! And your alarm better be set on Monday; I am not walking to school again," Robin grumbled as she headed to the back room to clock in. Eddie sighed in relief as the door shut behind her.

He really did feel bad about not picking her up for school. His friends were used to him skipping or just...sleeping late. If he wasn't at their houses to pick them up by a certain time, they knew they'd have to find another ride. Or just walk.

Gareth's mom was usually nice enough to give them rides on the days when Eddie didn't show.

But Robin...well, shit, Eddie knew Steve and Robin worked together...not only here but at Scoops Ahoy before this but damn, he didn't know Harrington was driving her to school. He must have been really good about picking her up every day if she was mad and worried.

"—and the thing is that I worried all day for nothing." Robin continued as she walked back onto the shop floor. "What if he's dead? What if his parents don't know? I think I failed my algebra test because of you so...just call next time ok?" She stared at him expectantly.

"Ok, I will," Eddie nodded. But Robin just narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms across her chest. "What?"

"What do you mean what?" she asked. "What are you still standing there for? It's almost 4."

"Oh!" Eddie checked his watch. "Is it? I guess...my shift is over right?"

She stared at him with a dumbfounded expression and then slammed her hands on the counter, making him jump.

"This is why you're single, this is why you can't find a girlfriend," she whined. "I don't even feel bad for you anymore. Not when you're screwing it up every step of the way. I really thought you were gonna get it right this time."

What was she talking about?

"How could you forget!?"

And in spectacular timing that Eddie could only have expected in a movie, the clock struck 4, the bell rang as the door opened, and you walked in for your date with Steve.

You were nervous.

Of course you were nervous, this was your third date with Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington. You sort of still didn't believe that he had asked you out.

You didn’t believe you were still going out with him.

It was just a random night that you'd run into Family Video to grab a movie before they closed. How easily he bantered with you, how he made you laugh, how he suggested Sixteen Candles of all movies for your study night with the girls from your classes at the Tri-County Community College.

He had made a joke when he looked up your mom’s membership…if the number on file was up-to-date so he could inform you of new releases…or just to ask you out.

You had giggled so stupidly after you left. He had called that night.

You'd always been sort of afraid of him during school. He was cute, sure, charming when he wanted to be...but he was popular and a jock and kind of a douche. You’d seen him pick on countless nerds.

He was King Steve, The "Hair" Harrington, whose dad owned the car dealership and had even run for Mayor once and was expected to run again. And you...you didn't have confidence issues really, but there wasn't anything really special about you either. You'd always held out hope that your silly high school crush would ask you out, so you never accepted any of the offers you had from any other boys.

But he never ended up asking you out, no matter how many signals you gave him, how much time you spent with him. How you wore the cutest outfits if you knew you’d partner with him in class.

And shy of some random drunken makeouts and one unfortunate hookup at some stupid party to get your first time “out of the way” (according to Julie Williams)…you stayed single.

Now you were out of the dregs of the high school hierarchy, sure, but you never expected Steve to ask you out. You weren't popular by any means...

But neither was Nancy Wheeler before Steve dated her.

Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler.

You couldn't get the name out of your head. Or more accurately, you couldn't get Steve saying her name out of your head. You hadn't even heard of her until they had started dating in your junior year; she was a year younger than you and Steve. Sweet, a little timid maybe. You thought they were cute together, always kind of near each other. Holding hands or kissing or laughing.

Nancy stood in the spotlight with Steve, and they spent enough time for him to become nicer and for her to become more confident. Confident enough to dump him about halfway through your senior year.

Rumors were afloat about King Steve losing his crown. That the new kid Billy Hargrove had taken it when the king was down on his luck. But Billy was an even bigger douchebag and you'd thought...well, Steve was the big man on campus, he would bounce back right? Surely once you graduated at least? He’d find his footing and move on?

And you thought he had. He’d stayed in town, gotten a job, went about his life like it was normal. Still drove around and charmed the town, asking girls out and whatnot. Asking you out.

Imagine your surprise when he mentioned Nancy on your first date. Coffee at that little bakery in the town square; he had ordered for you before you got there and you asked if it was his favorite or something.

"Well Nance always liked it so I figured you might."

And then again at the movies, he'd ordered you a cherry coke and Mike and Ikes. No popcorn.

"Nancy always complained about the kernels getting stuck in her teeth."

You were patient and you tried to be nice. But it created this constant, subconscious comparison to her that hit you every time you saw her around town. And she was always around.

And Steve…tried, he made sure the dates were nice, he called on the phone, asked you about your day, told you about his. You just knew you couldn’t…allow yourself to feel less than, even if Steve didn’t realize he was doing it to you.

So you decided you were gonna end things.

You'd gone to Family Video to tell him as much, to have a nice discussion, before heading to your shift at Benny's. But he was very sweet, unexpectedly so. Promised your third date would be something special. You'd both dress up. He'd take you out to dinner somewhere nice.

"You're gonna love this place," Steve had said, taking your hand in his. "Nance thought it was great when I took her there too."

Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler.

And at that moment you decided to just pull your hand away and tell him "I'm sorry Steve" and "you can’t keep bringing her up, it’s over."

Until you caught sight of Eddie Munson at the corner of your eye.

Your high school crush.

Who was funny and clever and silly and handsome and more. Who was everything you could kind of ever dream of. Who you got into a fight with your best friend over because she thought she had dibs since her brother was his friend. Whose name you scribbled in your notebook and almost died the one time he flipped through to copy your notes.

Who never saw you as more than a classmate.

And you decided...even if you were tired of playing second fiddle to Nancy…you had spent enough time waiting to be noticed by Eddie. All of high school and, you were ashamed to say it, even now after the fact.

You couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t pass upon another boy who actually noticed you just to keep waiting on Eddie.

So you told Steve that his idea was great and you went on your merry way.

You had convinced yourself that it could work out, that you could be Steve’s girlfriend if he asked, if he kissed you at the end of the night. You'd dressed up to go to class today, knowing that you wouldn't have time to change for the date after. Your friends had teased you about your date, about the fluffy tafetta dress you'd chosen, giggled along with you and inflated your confidence.

It was still a little bit of a shock when you walked into Family Video promptly at 4 only to find Robin standing in front of the counter with the most pitying, sympathetic look in her eyes. And Steve still behind it, looking like a deer in the headlights, still dressed in his casual work clothes, hair slightly disheveled.

Not prepared for your date at all.

Did he forget?

You shouldn’t have felt bad, really. You were meeting him after his shift. You knew that you didn’t always look or feel great after work. You should have given him the benefit of the doubt.

Or did he change his mind?

Because he talked the talk yesterday and you fell for it. You let your pride get the better of you and you should have just followed your instinct to end things.

That insidious voice in the back of your mind though…

Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler.

…told you that he realized you weren’t good enough.

"H-hey," you greeted sheepishly. Your throat got tight

“Say hi dumbass,” Robin muttered over her shoulder. “Steve was just telling me how excited he was for your date!”

“Really?”

And then…it felt like Steve was suddenly seeing you for the first time. Because Steve Harrington just had a way about him, right?. That cool, casual exterior. That easiness.

Looking at him now…his eyes were wider and brighter, his smile bigger, eager. It was a version of him that you hadn’t experienced.

Was this maybe what Nancy Wheeler saw when she looked at him…looking at her?

And now he was looking at you this way.

"I...I'm not late am I? Or too early maybe?" you asked, suddenly bashful under his gaze.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

“Gross,” Robin gagged. “Ok get out of here before I vomit.”

Steve practically vaulted over the counter and disappeared into the back for a moment, then situated himself at your side upon his return.

“You ready to go?” He asked eagerly. You raised your eyebrows in question and glanced down at his outfit, still dressed the same, still wearing his Family Video vest even.

“Oh you…” you started and then stopped when his smile got even brighter. “Yeah let’s go.”

You were barely out the door when a familiar van skidded into the parking lot and came to a halt in the spot next to your car. Eddie jumped out of the driver's seat and slammed the door, before pointing at Steve with a manic look in his eyes.

“You!” Eddie shouted. “What did you do? How did you do this!?”

You immediately turned to Steve, whose eyes went wide for a moment before he smiled lazily, almost condescendingly.

“Me? I didn’t do anything,” Steve announced, holding his hands up innocently.

“I know you’re in there Eddie, you son of a bitch,” Eddie grumbled and practically lunged at Steve. Steve jumped a few steps back and you got between the two of them, hoping your presence would put Eddie at ease.

Wait…

Did he call Steve…Eddie? Did he call Steve by…his own name?

Was he high or something? You tried to rationalize it: The anger, the manic look in his eyes, the way his shoulders shook as he breathed heavily. It only made sense.

“Hey look at me,” you said gently. “It’s gonna be ok, you need to take a deep breath and calm down. You’re gonna be ok.”

“Stay out of this honey,” Eddie said through clenched teeth. “This is between me and him.”

“Steve, what’s going on?” You glance back at him for an answer.

“Nothi—” Steve began but Eddie quickly spoke over him.

“He put a curse on me, he put a curse on us,” Eddie heaved.

A curse?

“M-maybe you need a doctor or something,” you tried. “You aren’t making any sense.”

”He doesn’t need a doctor,” Steve called from behind you. “He’s a freak, a criminal. He needs to be locked up.”

Eddie froze and looked between you and Steve, fear suddenly in his eyes.

“Steve are you crazy?!” You turned and hissed at him, but by the time you turned back to Eddie, he was backing away and retreating into the van.

“This isn’t over,” he threatened, pointing at Steve through the window. “You’re gonna fix this.”

“Eddie wait!” The van backed out of its spot and sped back out of the parking lot. You sighed with worry. “Eddie.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve casually put a hand on your shoulder “Don’t worry about him.”

You turned on your heel and slapped his hand off you.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Eddie played the part perfectly...

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

...or so he thought.

While he would never call anyone else a freak, standing and staring at his own face--despite the realization that Steve was in there--it was almost cathartic to yell those things at himself. To get a feel of what everyone else felt when they yelled those things at him. To not be on the receiving end of it for once.

Except you didn't seem to see it that way.

While Eddie had felt like he had hit the jackpot all day, being in Steve's body, he knew that he really came out ahead when you showed up for your date with him. The thought briefly crossed his mind...if he broke your heart as Steve...it might be a better chance for him to ask you out and for you to say yes.

But considering that he might possibly spend the rest of his life as Steve Harrington...having you was too good of a chance to pass up.

He would rather have you as Steve, knowing you would never care for him as Eddie, than lose you altogether.

Except that might be exactly what he had done as you stood there glaring at him.

"W-what?" He asked nervously.

"Are you kidding me right now?" you exclaimed. "He...there was clearly something wrong with him. How could you say those things? How could you call him those names? And then he...he left...what if he gets hurt?"

"What do you care about Eddie Munson?" he scoffed.

"He's my friend!"

Fuck.

Hearing that made his heart ache in his chest. He was a friend. Yeah. Just a friend. Which is why...if he wanted to salvage this, he would have to think quickly.

"I just...you're right," he explained, holding his hands out defensively. "He looked like...there was something wrong. And you were so quick to jump in the way...what if he hurt you?"

"He wouldn't!"

"I was worried."

"He wouldn't have hurt me."

"Listen to me," he soothed and approached you carefully in case you lashed out again. "I...I care about you, honey. I don't want to see you hurt. And Eddie...definitely looked like he was ready to hurt someone. I needed to get him away from you."

You gnawed at your bottom lip for a moment, pulling at your fingers nervously as you contemplated his excuse.

"Alright," you finally nodded. "I understand."

"You do?" he asked.

"Yeah," you sighed. "But please...please don't do that again. Don't call Eddie a freak. He's my friend and he deserves better than that."

Eddie's throat got tight, wanting to scream--

It's me. I'm Eddie. I'm in here.

--instead he took a few steps closer and folded you into a hug. You shook for a second, and god damn did he feel like he was on the verge of shaking too.

He needed a distraction.

"So...how about that date huh?" He questioned after a few moments of savoring the feel of you in his arms. "You ready to go."

"Sure," you pulled back and gave him a small smile. "Where are we going?"

Eddie, of course, had no idea where Steve had planned to take you. His mommy didn't mark dates in his calendar like she did his work schedule. So he simply decided to make something up on the spot. One of his favorite places.

He simply told you it was a surprise and led you to Steve's BMW, opening the door for you like a gentleman should, before he got you both on the way.

His fingers fidgeted on the steering wheel as he drove. He debated asking you questions, but decided against it on the off chance that they were things Steve had already on your first two dates. And the music that Steve had in the car was abysmal and wouldn't do anything to calm Eddie's nerves.

You seemed content to stare out the window as he drove though, still fidgeting with your fingers as the drab scenery passed by once he got onto old highway 77.

A few miles past Starcourt sat "Stoney Creek Adventure Center," boasting a halfway decent arcade and two miniature golf courses. With all of the new amusements in and around Hawkins, it wasn't as busy as it was the few times his mom and Rick had taken him when he was a kid. But it was still pretty lively on a Friday night: some families with younger kids, a couple of teens who snuck into the windmill to get high and make out.

Eddie escorted you out of the car and watched as you stared at the half-faded turf and oversized obstacles.

"So?" he asked, hands on his hips. "What do you think?"

Your hesitation to answer made his throat tight again.

What if this wasn't a Steve Harrington-calibur date?

"Uh..." you paused and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. "This is the place you took Nancy Wheeler? You said...you were taking me someplace she really liked."

Alright, time to make it or break it.

"I just thought you might like something different," he shrugged. "I thought...I've been bringing up Nancy a little too much. I want to enjoy new things. With you."

The way your gaze softened and you smiled at him...yeah, he was really fixing all of Harrington's fuck-ups. Give you everything you deserved.

"Oh, that's...yeah, that's really sweet," you giggled. "I...I didn't want to say anything...I know she was important to you. But I was actually starting to feel like--"

"Hey, listen," he interrupted you, knowing what you were going to say next...feeling a little smug that he was right. "The past is the past. I'm sorry I made you feel like you were playing second fiddle to Nancy."

"You really did," you confirmed.

"But I really like you," Eddie admitted, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders as the words escaped him. Even though the voice he said them with was not his own. "I want you to feel important too. Ok?"

"Ok," you agreed, lips pursed and nose scrunched as you obviously fought a smile.

"Alright then, let's get to putting," he clapped his hands together and started walking towards the arcade to pay for your rounds of golf.

He stopped, however, as you grabbed him by the arm.

"Don't you think I'm a little overdressed?" you asked bashfully, gesturing down at yourself. "You told me we were going someplace nice."

He placed a hand over his heart and acted wounded.

"You're saying mini golf isn't nice?" he whimpered.

"No, it's perfect, I just..." you shrugged. "I don't know, I think...I don't even have a jacket or anything."

"Well tell you what," he said and peeled his Family Video vest from his shoulders. "As long as you don't tell Keith that I made you a temporary employee for the night--that's what this means you know, so don't take it lightly--you can wear my vest."

You didn't fight the smile this time, it beamed brightly in the golden afternoon light. You put the vest on and did a little turn, modeling it for him, looking slightly ridiculous with your fancy dress and the stupid green and orange vest.

What Eddie wouldn't have done right then to have his battle vest instead right then. To make you look like you were his girl and not Steve's.

"Beautiful," he told you truthfully. "Now you ready to lose? I happen to be a mini golf champion."

"In your dreams," you scoffed.

No...not in his dreams anymore...

At the end of the night, well past it getting dark, Steve drove you back to the strip mall parking lot for you to get your car and head home. But it felt no less romantic than it would have been if he was actually dropping you off at home and you were chatting on your porch before you went inside.

“I really did have a great time tonight,” you told him honestly. It felt like a cliché, like something from a tv show. But...despite the rocky start, you did have a great time and it was absolutely nothing you expected from Steve of all people, especially not after those first two dates. After all of the things you had doubted.

You had played both of the miniature golf courses, sat at the little picnic benches and shared a basket of half-soggy fries with ice cream cones--yours strawberry, his a chocolate-vanilla swirl--and chatted about your classes, and then ended the night beating the high score on Space Invaders.

Maybe things were looking up after all. Maybe you were right to give him this last chance.

“It was kind of perfect," you continued. "Thank you.”

“Well, what can I say?” Steve beamed. “I’m full of good ideas, when I’m inspired to have them.”

“And I, um, inspired you?” You asked hesitantly.

“You have no idea,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t even believe what was going on in here even if I told you.” He tapped his forehead a few times.

You reached up and rapped your knuckles on the side of his head the way you would a watermelon to see if it was ripe.

“I dunno, sounds kind of hollow to me—Steve!!” He grabbed you around the middle and started tickling you. You yelped and giggled as his fingers relentlessly tapped and pinched at your sides. “Stop it.”

“Sorry, honey, I told you I was full of ideas,” he pouted playfully but didn’t let up. “You just looked awful ticklish; it inspired me.”

“I can’t,” you laughed. “I can’t breathe.”

“I guess I can stop,” Steve sighed, the tickling letting up for a moment. His hands stilled on your waist as you caught your breath and he inched closer. “I think I’m inspired by something else now, to be completely honest with you.”

And then he did a thing--something he had been doing all night--he was looking at you like he couldn’t really believe you were there with him. His eyes were sparkling and happy. His smile wasn’t the…signature smooth Harrington smile that you’d grown accustomed to the last few dates. It was wider, easier.

“Y-yeah?” You whispered. “What’s that?”

He leaned in closer, rubbed his nose against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and you exhaled softly.

"C-can I," he whispered, soft enough that you could barely hear him. "Can I kiss you, honey?"

"Y-yeah," you agreed just as softly. He hummed but didn't make another move, choosing to continue giving you such soft attention. It made your heart melt.

"You sure?"

"Please," you keened.

He let out a soft chuckle and pressed his lips to yours and you sighed.

If was all of the tender softness you deserved, but never knew in the fast, hormone-and-alcohol driven kisses you had experienced in high school. However few. You were simply surrounded by him.

His touch--his soft lips molding to yours, pressing, and his hands on your waist, pulling--constant and pleading for more but never pushing. His scent that invaded your senses--sharp and citrusy and fresh, like a summer's day. His sounds, that simple...constant little hum as the seconds ticked by.

He was everywhere and everything.

But...

You thought about Eddie earlier that day, the striking, wild look in his eye. So different from the Eddie you were used to, the Eddie you cared about, the Eddie your heart beat for over the past 5 years. You were worried about him, yes, but one thought occupied your mind.

How would Eddie have kissed you?

Your heart stung when Steve pulled away and you blinked back the burning in the back of your eyes.

You couldn't entertain those thoughts, not when Steve was standing right in front of you, after he had just kissed you so perfectly, and looked at you as if you were the only thing that could ever make him happy.

“G’night honey,” he murmured.

“Goodnight,” you whispered guiltily. "Goodnight Steve."

Eddie made it back to the Harrington's house with a big smile on his face.

He could do this forever if he had to.

Live in Steve's body, go to work at Steve's job, drive Steve's car, kiss Steve's girlfriend.

He'd been partially wondering on his drive back to the house--

Between the long, sweet moments of recalling your kiss.

--if this was, perhaps, some kind of karmic reward for all of the shit life had handed to him. A terrible father, a dead mother, a short attention span, and the entire town voicing their opinion that he was some dirty, rotten, trailer park freak. And then on the contrary, Steve--who had been given everything he never asked for and was an ungrateful shit--could have some karma as well.

As he made it up the stairs--the stairs, Eddie still couldn't believe it--to his new bedroom, Eddie thought about Wayne and did feel a little guilt. He definitely suffered just as Eddie did, maybe more so, simply for the fact that he had to put up with Eddie for 10 years and now would have to put up with Steve too. Eddie's stomach turned when he thought of all the things he did just to take something off Wayne's plate. Repairs around the trailer, grocery shopping and "making dinner" (which was usually code for some kind of takeout when he was too lazy to pop some frozen pizza in the oven). Not to mention the extra cash he made dealing...would Steve do those things now that they were stuck like this?

Where was Wayne's karmic reward?

There were so many things Wayne sacrificed for Eddie. And Eddie knew and did everything he could to give back to his uncle, as much as his uncle would let him. Now with this situation with Steve, he had to do a little more to lift what would end up being an additional weight off of his uncle's shoulders.

Maybe...

Maybe "Steve" could convince Mr. Harrington to offer Wayne some better, cushier job at the car dealership? So he wouldn't have to suffer as much as he did at the plant. He definitely deserved more, but this was the first thing Eddie could think of off the top of his head. After a few months it might be a new car, or some...help with a down payment on an actual house...or at the very least, a larger trailer so that he could have his own bedroom instead of that fold-out bed.

Yeah, that was it. He would think about how he would bring it up next time he saw good ol' Pa Harrington...but since the house was still empty almost 14 hours after Steve's parents apparently left for work that morning, it might not be any time soon...

Eddie opened the door to the bedroom--momentarily dismissing his thoughts of Wayne to consider if he should get some posters to cover the pretentious plaid-papered walls--only to find the light on and his own face staring back at him, scowling, as Steve sat propped against the headboard of the bed.

Eddie hesitated in the doorway, stunned.

“I told you this wasn't over, Freak."

Fuck.

Tag List: @luna-munson83 @kaitebugg03 @invaderzia1 @delusionalbabe @secretdryrose @eddiesguitarskills @simplyundeniable98 @imaslutforcuddles @hanobe8

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #Eddie munson imagine #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve harrington fic #Steve harrington x reader #Freaky Friday AU

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icarusthefoolish · 1 year

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Finding a Family in a Ruined world

Summary: Ellie and Joel end up camping in an old and abandoned town, while clearing out the infected in the Area and trying to settle down they meet a child.

Warnings: body horror, emaciation, infected wounds, Mentions of past shoddy done amputation, child abandonment.

Notes: No gender specified. Ellie and Joel might be a bit OOC mostly based on the game not the HBO series since i haven't gotten to watch it. No mentions of Y/N

Original idea by: @lemonlaides

Wc: 5k

Note: I've been messaged by the author of Notre Dame @lemonlaides mentioning that this story is incredibly close to theirs. That was never my intention. They said i can keep this up if i give them credit for the original idea and change some stuff. Again copying them was not my intention.

Joel and Ellie were on their way to the Firefly Hospital and usually they would hunker down in some place which is not an Abandoned town that's probably full of Infected but they didn't really have much of a choice, they had arrived to scavenge but ended up having to stay the night because it got dark too fast. They were currently killing off what they hoped to be the last infected in the area.

Ellie let out a grunt after she kicked one of the Walkers of her before stabbing her knife into its rotten skull and piercing it's brain killing it. Joel was currently stomping on the head of another infected before he let out a deep sigh. "Alright that shoulda been all of em... hopefully." Ellie nodded before looking around the area, other then a few houses that looked more then just unstable and a few shops there was a big Clocktower which would probably be the best area to stay the night in.

"Joel, I'd say we should ger into that Clocktower to stay in." The man nodded walking to the door which was locked tight. Ellie looked around "maybe i can find a way in through a smashed window or some-" she looked over when she heard a smack and the lock break, Joel had smashed the butt of his shotgun into the lock effectively breaking it. "That... Also works i guess..."

She shook her head before Joel pushed the door open carefully, Ellie stood behind him flinching because of the smell, the entire area smelled like death, decay and food? She looked to Joel who was scanning the area full of opened and half eaten food that didn't look older then a day at best. What Ellie also noticed was that most of the lower walls were full with crude small drawings, some which looked like stick figures others that looked like someone had just scribbled on the wall.

The floor boards above them creaked loudly, Joel immediately pushed Ellie behind him holding out his shotgun. Ellie looked up letting out a gasp when she saw a face with big scared looking eyes look down from a gap of the floor boards, the gap was big enough to see the kids face, with cheeks that were sunken and a generally emaciated frame.

Joel put the gun down carefully his face going slightly white at the way the child looked. He lowered the gun to the floor before turning back to the kid. Who came down the raggedy steps but stayed far enough away that they could run. Ellie walked Infront of Joel "hi there, I'm Ellie the grumpy man behind me is called Joel" Joel let out a huff at that though he couldn't really complain because he was grumpy. "We aren't here to hurt you." Ellie smiled but her smile vanished when she saw bloody rags tied to the stump of their Left Leg.

They answered their name back. timidly "My mommy and daddy left me and i dunno where they are..." They sniffled slightly and Ellie frowned. "We have some food if you want? You look hungry kid." They nodded slightly "mhm i don't eat much because I can't find stuff. One day something bad happened to our neighbours and one of them tried getting me, when my mommy pulled me in here something bit me..." They lifted their left leg or what was left of it, "mommy and daddy pulled me in here and held me down... T-then i just remember that it hurt and there was a lot of red stuff..." Even Joel grimaced at that before standing next to Ellie.

"If you want we can help you with that too looks like it hurts kid." They hobled down the rest of the stairs and before looking at Joel and Ellie afraid not sure if they should trust them. Ellie smiled "don't worry we really just wanna help." They hummed looking at their leg before slightly nodding. Jole took his honestly nasty looking Med Pack out of the bag. He sighed before sitting down and grabbing their leg and carefully undoing the blood stained fabric, and honestly the sight under the fabric was worse then any Infected, not only because of how it looked but because of the way that this was a child maybe 6 or 7 years old if he had to guess.

The skin around the cut was red puffy and leaking a yellowish white pus. The suturing job was also no where near good but he guessed that that was all they had. "Alright kid.... This is probably gonna hurt." Ellie frowned and sat down next to them pulling out her Joke book. "Hey focus on me while he deals with that how about i tell you some jokes while you eat something hm?" She also pulled some candy that she had gotten a little while back and let them choose a few.

While Joel was trying to carefully disinfect the area, Ellie told them Jokes and honestly Joel wanted to groan at each one but at least she was Keeping the kids mind of the pain, They let out a whimper as soon as the alcohol touched the already inflamed skin. "Hey don't focus on how much it hurts i know it does, try to focus on me ok?" They nodded clenching their eye's closed and biting their lip.

Joel tried to clean the infected stump up quickly befor suturing it closed again and wrapping it up. "There hopefully that will stop the infection." He looked at the kid "you did good." Ellie looked to Joel "can they come with us? We can't just leave them here." Joel hummed, while Ellie was definitely right they also couldn't risk anything. He let out a small groan rubbing his hand down his face. "We'll talk about it tomorrow okay?"

Ellie nodded "alright you can sleep in my sleeping bag if you want." They smiled and nodded slightly "mhm I'd like that." Joel and Ellie got a small fire going to keep them warm through the night, Ellie opened up her sleeping bag and the child crawled in.

In the morning Joel had decided to take the kid with them, he didn't want to say it out loud but he'd grown fond of them in the short time they spent together. After what happened at the Firefly Hospital he was glad that the kid was too young to understand what was going on. So Joel Ellie and the child made their own home in Jackson. Their amputated stump started to heal thanks to the help of Maria who couldn't believe that a child had been living alone for who knows how long.

Their life's started becoming normal and they were a little family in their own way.

Tag list: @wilczachannn

(if you want to be added to my Taglist just send an ask.)

#aiko talks #aikos shit posts #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x you #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x platonic!reader #the last of us #the last of us x reader

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striderepiphany · 1 year

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My favorite reddie fics masterpost

I have an absolutely insane number of reddie fics saved in my bookmarks for how recently I joined this fandom so I decided to share my absolute favorites with you. Please give these authors some love and let me know which ones are you've read and enjoyed!

the year of the goat and your kid back by derryfacts2

1 chapter, 14,838 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: The day you get the most important email of your life, there’s a new black skidmark on the wall of the stairwell, and you know exactly whose fault it is. “Margaret,” you intone to the harried, wild-haired woman in the lobby. She sighs at you as she tries to jimmy her mail key loose. “I know.” It wouldn’t even be that bad if the kid would just skateboard outside. Or get good at skateboarding. Either of those things. Maggie’s a nice lady, though, and she’s had “trying my best” scribbled all over her since they moved into 6B maybe eight years ago. So you try not to be a dick, even if her son is a gold-standard pain in the ass. He’s good for three things: smells, noise, and reminding you how big Eddie must be by now.

The first It fic I read that made me go "holy shit, this is fantastic" and remains one of my all-timers (hence why its first in this list). Really fun and unique outsider POV from Eddie's estranged gay dad, and tells a very sweet story mostly through dialogue. Young adult Eddie and Richie are very cute.

i think the clock is slow by derryfacts2 (again)

3 chapters, 15,815 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: So there was that reason that work wasn’t boring, too. There was Richie’s soppy campaign of making cow eyes at the back of Eddie’s head as he passed, gently pressing Betty for details about his personal life (“I don’t think he has one. He had this awful fiancé a few years ago, but we’re all glad that’s over”), and chasing the incomparable high of a quiet, muttered “Thanks, Rich” whenever Richie picks something up for him from the copier.

Richie is a wannabe stand-up comic daylighting as the receptionist at Eddie's office. Eddie is a tightly-wound corporate asshole. They are both disasters. Or: five times Richie watched Eddie and one that Eddie watched him back.

I really enjoy workplace dramas and this one satisfied the itch so well. So many good scenes and dialogue, this author characterizes them in a way that really works for me. The perfect read-in-an-afternoon fic.

listen to my heart (can you hear it sing?) by vampirerising

12 chapters, 137,708 words, Major Character Death. Summary: "You need to wake up now,” Stan says softly. “This isn’t real.”

“I know, but I can’t,” Richie sobs. “I don’t want to be here.” Not again. Never again. It is dead, why is It still haunting him?

Stan fixes him with one of those looks of his, the one where he can see his every thought as if it were written on his face. “That’s not true, Trashmouth.”

Alternatively: We all know Richie gets caught in the Deadlights, but do we really know what happens after?

(Deadlights, timelines, Stan’s ghostly meddling—oh, my.)

This one is fucking weird in a way that I absolutely adore. Kind of like a sci-fi novel in that it requires you to pay attention to figure out what the fuck is going on but its so good and worth it. The MCD is Stan, not Eddie, and the last couple chapters are actually a very normal domestic Eddie lives AU. One of the first reddie artworks I made was fanart for a scene from this fic that I really enjoy.

a strange sense of familiarity by Katranga

21 chapters, 103,571 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "So Eddie, what brings you to the bar tonight?" Richie asked. "Gonna rebound from the divorce? Pick up a hot young twenty-something to feel young again?” “Fuck you,” Eddie said, jutting his chin forward. “What a terrible way to ruin the mood.” “I’m sorry, all my moods are poorly cultivated. What mood were you looking for?” A nervous lump grew in Eddie's throat. He threw back his drink to get rid of it.

Hand wrapped around the glass he’d just slammed back onto the bar, he said, “The mood that gets me leaving with a schlubby forty-something.”

Pre-chapter two, Eddie and Richie meet and don't remember each other, but have an instant connection anyway...

This one is just... so fucking good. Decently long without ever feeling like it's dragging. Part 1 is them developing their totally-casual-I-swear relationship, which blows up right when Mike calls them back to Derry. Part 2 is them navigating both killing a nightmare clown demon and the awkwardness between them. Also everybody lives! So that's nice.

change partners by avacadomoon (with podfic available)

1 chapter, 30,453 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Rich," Eddie says heavily. Meaningfully, and Richie holds his breath, both afraid and hopeful that Eddie is about to say something really sappy, like I always knew and it didn't matter to me, or you know I support you no matter what. Eddie takes a deep breath before he speaks, and Richie closes his eyes, braced for it. "I didn't look at your dick pics."

"Well hey, Eds, thanks," Richie says, laughing incredulously. "Thanks for that."

I LOVE THIS ONE SOOO FUCKING MUCH. I urge you to consider this as a rec for this author as well, as they have a bunch of other reddie fics I think are fantastic. I have a weakness for any reddie fic that lets them be just a little mean to each other. As a treat. (Also the podfic is very well done, you should check that out too.)

check raise by avacodomoon

1 chapter, 15,061 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Eddie, not a fan of stand up comedy, not a fan of his beer," Rich says, leaning back on one elbow and squinting at him, like he's lining him up in a camera lens frame, "but what is he doing drinking alone?"

"I was alone, and now I'm not," Eddie says. "Some prick sat down next to me and started yapping."

"Ah, unpleasant to talk to," Rich concludes. "Explains a lot."

I know I meant the last rec as a blanket rec for all this author's works but I'm including this one specifically because it has a twist ending that is well-foreshadowed and it slapped my dick clean off.

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers

11 chapters, 107,947 words, Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings. Summary: In a world where Richie manages to save Eddie from It after the deadlights, they still have problems on their to-do list. Featuring everything from Derry to Los Angeles—Richie Tozier's murder trial, Eddie Kaspbrak's divorce proceedings, bedsharing of the platonic and non-platonic varieties, an investigation of magic, a truly disgusting séance, the quintessential morosexual road trip, and OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

Definitely NOT your average Eddie lives AU. Drama! Mild peril! Psychic abilities! The ghost of Stanley Uris collect calling from beyond the grave via Richie Tozier's vocal chords! Fun and freaky and weird. Three things that make any fic a Josh favorite.

I'm going to stop there because I'm sleepy but let me know if you want more! Like I said I've got like 70 of these lovingly tucked in my bookmarks and I'm happy to share with the class.

#reddie #fic recs #it sk #it 2019 #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

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BAU x reader - in the past

I have a question, would you be okay with doing a request where the unsub is an x of the reader's? - @xweirdo101x 💜

The case was going like any other case, trying to figure out who the unsub was before anything else bad happened.

You were reading the reports, trying to find anything that was going to link the victims, and Reid was staring at the photos on the board.

“Hey (Y/N) come here.”

Furrowing your brows a little, you got up and walked over and he moved your next to the board, flicking his eyes from you to the board then back to you.

“Oh my god…”

“What? What is it?”

You looked at the board in confusion and Reid quickly grabbed his phone, calling Garica to get the team back to the station as soon as possible.

You tried getting Reid to tell you what was going on but he wouldn’t.

He waited for everyone to get in.

“I think I’ve found the link. I was looking at the photos, they all look incredibly similar, then I put (Y/N) next to the photos.”

Everyone looked at you and you still stood there confused.

“I… I don’t get it, I don’t look like them?”

“You dye your hair right?” Rossi asked.

“Yeah? JJ or Emily helps me do it.” You said.

“What’s your natural hair colour?” Hotch asked.

“(H/C).”

You looked at the photos, and the more you looked the more you realised how they did look like just like you.

All of them had met a brutal tragic end, and each message started to make more sense.

“Oh my god…”

They weren’t just random words, you realised what they were spelling out.

“(Y/N) what is it?” Emily asked you.

Picking up the whiteboard pen, you quietly scribbled the words out.

“It’s not random words. It’s a message.”

“A message?” JJ asked.

You slowly nodded your head and rearranged them, and added a few more words before you stepped away to let them read it.

“I will never let you go. I will find you.” Reid read aloud.

You shuddered, even just writing it made you feel uncomfortable and made you feel incredibly sick.

“What’s going on?” Hotch asked.

You sighed and got them all to sit down, and you explained to them the situation behind you and you possessive ex.

You didn’t give them all the details, there was things that they didn’t need to know about your past, but you told them about you and the breakup

You told them how messy it had gotten, you got a restraining order against him, sending him on his way, how you had to dye your hair and move every year just to make sure he didn’t find you.

“It’s why I don’t have Facebook or anything, it’s why I never go on team nights out, or take photos with you. It’s nothing against you, it’s for my safety.”

“Right you’re not leaving this station, one of us will always be with you, Garica get everything you can about this ex now.”

“Yes sir.”

Garcia hung up and you looked at the team as they quickly dove into work.

“We need to keep you safe, we’re going to set up an interrogation room as a safe house, Derek will stay with you first.” Rossi said.

You nodded and followed Derek to the new safe house for you.

He decided to play games with you to pass the time until it was time to switch.

Reid decided to recite a book he knew you liked to try and help you stay calm, and reminded you it was going to be okay.

Emily sat there in silence with you, both of you watching a movie on her phone.

JJ tried getting you to talk about it but you wouldn’t budge and she decided not to push it any further.

Hotch told you stories about Jack and what his son had been up to, he understood how scary this could be, and he wanted to keep you as calm as possible.

Rossi decided he was going to teach you some Italian, he knew you wanted to learn a different language so he decided why not? If you wanted to learn, he wanted to help you relax a little bit.

You felt uneasy knowing that any moment he could come through those doors, but it felt wrong to sit there and do nothing.

This started with you, you felt like it had to finish with you. But you knew the team wouldn’t let you go, and maybe that was good thing, because who knows what would happen.

But it didn’t feel right.

It felt like years before they said it was over.

He was dead.

Hotch had shot him, he was going to shoot Emily, so Hotch didn’t hesitate to shoot your ex.

Not only for threatening a member of his team, but for everything that had happened with you.

“It’s over…” Hotch said softly.

“It’s over…?”

He nodded and you stood up before crashing into him to hug him, thanking him and the rest of the team.

They all joined the hug, telling you they’d do anything for you.

On the jet home you weren’t allowed to sit alone, you were forced to play games and talk and do anything to distract you.

When you got back to the office Garica was waiting and she pulled you away and into her office where she closed the door.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Garica hugged you tightly.

“I’m.. I’m okay.”

You hugged her back and sighed, rubbing your hand up and down her back.

“I want you to know I saw everything, the police reports, the court cases, everything.”

You quickly pulled away.

“Garcia promise me you didn’t…”

She quickly shook her head.

“No, no I didn’t I promise! I’m just… I’m so sorry you went through all of that…”

She started to tear up, and you did the same, and you hugged her tightly again.

“It’s in the past…”

“I know but still.. I’m so sorry…” she whispered.

She wasn’t going to tell the team, she knew you didn’t want them to know.

“If you ever want to talk about it we can! Okay? You can come or mine or… or.. I can come to yours and we can talk about it!”

You pulled away and sniffled a little, wiping a few tears from your eyes as you took a breath.

You didn’t want to talk about it, but after this case you had a feeling you couldn’t shove it down anymore.

You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t real because it was.

“I.. I’d like that.. I wanna talk about it..”

Garcia quickly grabbed her stuff and you two left without telling the rest of the team, just giving them a text saying you were going to hers.

Maybe you needed, maybe you needed to talk about it to finally start healing properly

#criminal minds x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds imagine

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punsmaster69 · 5 months

Text

21/JAN/20XX

[There are a few random scribbles on the top of the page.]

——

whoops.

i meant to write sooner, but that's all i got down before conkin' out, apparently.

me and tori went for a picnic by the river. it's a short ways out of town, not super far given we're located near the edge of it.

notably, there's no ice floating in this river.

at some point i had leaned over to look at the glistening water, sparkling in the sun, when i realized something i definitely should have noticed sooner.

albeit small and slightly faint,

i have a scar on my face.

"You did not realize?"

"no. how long's it been there?"

"Since the whole 'explosion' incident that kicked this issue into high gear."

"i don't know how i didn't see it."

"Well... it is true that you're only recently regaining full vision back, is it not?"

"yeah."

i tossed a rock into the water, the ripples making my reflection warble.

"And you are certainly not the type to look in the mirror often."

"true."

"That, and it really is quite faint - hardly noticeable, in honesty."

toriel took my face in her hand and gently moved it to see the scar closer.

"I think it may even disappear entirely, as long as you don't repeat the injury."

"don't plan on exploding any more eyes."

"I don't imagine the last one was exactly planned either..."

"fair point."

"i'll try not to recreate it again."

she dropped her hand from my face, letting it fall onto my hand instead.

"didn't expect to start the new year with a badass scar."

"I do not think 'badass' is the right word."

"what, you think it looks lame or somethin'?"

"The scar is caused from your lack of self-expression. That is not a very 'badass' story behind-"

"it's technically caused by something 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 by the self-expression thing."

"That is essentially the same thing."

"no. i can just say 'my eye exploded' and it'll be true."

"And if they ask why?"

"uhhh."

"i'll tell 'em it's a skeleton thing."

"A skeleton thing?"

"yup."

"there's a lot of skeleton-specific things, y'know."

"it's believable."

"Could you give me an example?"

"of my skeleton things?"

i fought a short internal battle and immediately lost.

"whoa. right here?"

"you wanna see my skeleton thing?"

tori cackled.

"That is not what I meant, you bonehead."

"don't know that have one of 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦.."

"?"

"A b-"

she covered her mouth when she realized and smacked my shoulder.

"Dirty!"

"you're the one who asked to see-"

"Stop this!"

"Scandalous skeleton."

"like i said. you definitely asked."

i reached over, grabbing her bottle of tea and taking a sip.

"not like i've really got one."

"..That is my bottle."

"yup."

"You're aware?"

"yup."

"Then why?"

"food always tastes better taken from someone else."

trying to take the bottle from me, tori leaned across the picnic blanket. i sat back and held it further away. she continued leaning. we kept going until i was on the ground. her hands around my wrists pinned me in place.

"Ha!"

it took effort to not think about her weight on mine.

"I wonder if it tastes just as good stolen back?"

it was hard to think at all.

"alright. you got your drink back."

"can i be unpinned now?"

"Unp-"

"OH!"

tori scrambled to release me.

"I'm so sorry, Sans."

"I hope I was not hurting you."

"definitely not."

"...."

"It tastes just the same."

"you can steal mine if you want."

"It is alright."

"how are you ever gonna 𝘵𝘦𝘢 the difference if you don't?"

"It is hardly stealing if you've given me permission."

"..ok. aaah, noo, don't steal my drinkk! how could youu?"

"Pfft."

"Yelling is certainly not your forte."

despite declining previously, she decided now to take a drink from my bottle.

"or even capitalizing."

"Maybe you're right."

"hm?"

"It 𝗶𝘀 better stolen."

"what'd i say? it always is."

"I wonder 𝘸𝘩𝘺 that is."

"the added flavor of thievery, of course."

"Shall we just swap bottles, then?"

"sure."

"i hope the thievery flavor doesn't add too many carbs."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"i'm trying to watch my figure. can't keep this hot bod without a few sacrifices."

"Dad bod, maybe."

"less of a dad bod. more of a father figure."

"Hehehe."

"I do certainly prefer you big-boned, though."

"well. in that case."

i grabbed a bag of chips from our picnic basket.

"I am on a bit of a diet as well."

"yeah?"

"A seafood diet."

"........."

"seafood, huh?"

"I 𝘀𝗲𝗲 food and I eat it!"

never honestly laughed at that one before now.

i'm certain i've ironically gotten a shirt with that printed on it for alphys once. now i'm thinking that i should get one for tori.

——

trying to open and shut the front door as quietly as i could, i immediately broke the silence by dropping my keys in the dark. papyrus' door opened.

"shit."

"SANS? ARE YOU HOME?"

"..yeah."

"sorry for wakin' you."

"WHY WERE YOU OUT SO LATE AGAIN?"

"just out and about."

"YOU ONLY ANSWERED ONE MESSAGE THE WHOLE TIME."

"sorry bro. got distracted."

" 'OUT AND ABOUT' DOESN'T REALLY EXPLAIN WHAT YOU WERE DOING, EITHER."

to my dismay, he flicked on the lights when i got to my door.

"........"

"SO YOU ACTUALLY WORE THAT TURTLENECK."

"can't let it rot away in my dresser forever."

he folded his arms and leaned against the wall outside my doorway. i didn't bother closing the door.

i tossed the turtleneck into my room and slipped on a random unfolded shirt.

"I TAKE IT YOU WENT TO SEE MS. TORIEL, THEN."

"let's not do this."

"I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING."

i did the same with my capris, kicking them off and replacing them with my usual shorts.

"..AT LEAST I KNOW YOU WERE IN GOOD HANDS."

sighing, i stepped out of my room and flicked the light down.

"gonna go not-think on the couch. i promise not to have the tv too loud."

"DON'T STAY UP TOO MUCH LATER, PLEASE."

"ok."

"AND EAT SOMETHING, IF YOU HAVEN'T."

"ok."

"REALLY. DON'T STAY UP LONG."

"i won't."

"goodnight bro."

"GOODNIGHT, SANS."

#undertale #journal #sans #toriel #soriel #sans x toriel #toriel x sans #papyrus #sans and papyrus #smiles cutely #: )

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hedgiwithapen · 9 months

Note

Oooh can we get a continuation of that ‘bb!Clark kidnapped by US Govt’ au—in which tween Lois is accompanying her dad on a Take Your Child to Work Day or something, and (sneaks off and) meets his trainee superweapon? Or maybe Sam brings Clark home for dinner one night to acclimate him to average human life before an undercover mission?

followup to this one from earlier this DHD weekend! It came down to the babysitter coming down with the flu. Reluctantly, Sam assured Mandy this would be a one time occurrence, and then sat Lucy and Lois down in an empty conference room, with a stack of coloring books, markers, textbooks, and a backpack full of distractions and snacks from home.

“Stay in here. Do not leave this room,” he said, giving his girls each a quick, loose hug. “Lois, do your homework. Lucy, draw something nice for us to take to Mommy, ok? If you get bored, uh.. just… text me, I’ll have something else for you to do.”

Lucy saluted, already scribbling. Lois saw her dad wince as the markers skipped across the paper and onto the table. “Ok, sir,” she said, but she could see the look on his face, and beamed, like it was just a joke. It was, mostly.

“Lo, I mean it. Stay put.”

She nodded, serious. The minute he was gone, she glanced into her palm. His keycard almost glittered in the light. She grinned, and then sighed.

She did her homework. Both her parents--usually Mom, on her good days-- insisted homework had to come first. She did six math problems of the fifteen assigned, which was basically half, right? Swinging her legs, she looked at her Language arts assignment, which was the same as starting it, which was close enough to finishing it. She could write a book report in her sleep, and who needed to study for a spelling test, anyways?

Lucy kept coloring.

"I'm gonna go explore," Lois told her sister.

"Daddy said to stay here," Lucy said.

"Yeah, well, I'm going anyways. You in?"

"I'm coloring," Lucy said, very serious. Lois took that as a 'no.'

The keycard locks made a very satisfying beep and click noise, lighting up green when she pressed her dad's badge against them. The first few rooms she poked her head into were empty, or boring. Filing cabinets were cool to climb on, but She was getting too big for that, and they never had much interesting in them, just papers. Adults loved papers.

One room was labeled 'secure, no unauthorized personnel' which Lois thought was a great sign, literally and figuratively. There had to be something really cool through it. She swiped the keycard against the scanner, already up on her tiptoes like that would get her in faster.

The light inside was red, like the photo darkroom she'd seen on a school trip once. "Coooool," Lois breathed, peering around. Movement drew her eye, and she took a step back, already rehearsing the story she'd give if she got caught.

Her eyes adjusted before whoever it was could yell at her, and she realized why.

A boy about her age was sitting in the corner on a camping cot, looking at her with wide blue eyes.

She took a step forward. "Hi," she said, boldly, sticking out a hand. "I'm Lois. Who are you?"

"I…I'm a weapon," the boy said with uncertainty, not moving to shake. Lois frowned.

"I'm a journalist-in-training," she said, finally dropping her arm. "But I was asking your name."

He blinked, lifting a hand to his neck. Lois's eyes widened. "Oh my god," she said. "That's--um. Are you…ok?" She'd thought for a second he was like her, waiting for a parent to finish work, but that was a shock collar. Like the kind for dogs. And he still hadn't given her a name, and she wasn't much good at math but one plus one absolutely made two and this plus that absolutely made This Is Bad.

"No," the boy said, in such a small voice it broke her heart.

She crossed the room fast. It was easy, being much taller than it was long or wide. "Um, it's gonna be ok," she tried. They were empty type words, words people used when nothing was going to be ok, but this was something that could be fixed. Her fingers felt for a latch, and found a sensor instead.

Her Dad couldn't have known about this. He wouldn't. But he had a lot of clearance, so maybe the card would be programed anyways? She tried it, and a red light clicked off as the collar dropped away. "Is that better?" she asked, hopefully. The boy just shrugged.

"I--think so," he said. "I want to go home."

"Okay," Lois said. "We just have to find my dad. He's gonna be mad I stole his card, but that's okay! it's for the greater good. He'll fix this." She reached for the boy's hand, tugging him to his feet. "C'mon."

Opening the door again was easy, but she hadn't realized it was soundproofed until she opened the door. Some kind of alarm was going. Glancing up, she noticed for the first time the camera pointed at the door, stuck to the ceiling. She would have waved, sheepishly, at getting caught, but she was too angry.

A bunch of people in the uniform her dad wore stood in the hall, blocking the way back to the conference room. They held guns. Lois swallowed. "I'm Lois Lane," she said. "My dad's General Samuel Lane. He's in charge. He outranks you. I need to talk to him." They were the words he'd taught her if the military ever tried to intimidate her, and they sure were trying now.

"Lois," her dad's voice echoed over footsteps, and Lois's heart leaped even as she felt the boy behind her shrink back. Like he was scared. She was scared too, of the guns, but not of her dad.

"Dad, some people were holding this boy pr--"

"Lois, get away from it, right now."

"It?" she echoed, blinking in confusion.

"Now, Lois. That's an order."

"Dad?" she asked. "I don't… you--knew about him?"

"It's a weapon, Lois. It'll hurt you. Come over here."

"No." She couldn't. She wouldn't. Something in her gut told her that this was wrong. She trusted that more than her dad. It hadn't failed her yet. She gripped the boy's hand tight. "I won't let you hurt him."

"Clark," the boy whispered behind her, still sounding so scared, like he thought it might be the last thing he'd get to say. She nodded.

"I won't let you hurt Clark," she corrected herself.

She saw the hesitation in her father's eyes. She lifted her chin.

"Lois…" her father said. He closed his eyes, and lifted a hand.

The soldiers in the hall lowered their guns.

#dammit hedgi day 2023 #My Adventures With Superman #Lois Lane #Same Lane #Clark Kent #implied happy ending? i guess? as happy as it can be with uh ma and pa still dead #clark is going to need a lot of therapy and mom lane needs a divorce tbh

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idolatrybarbie · 6 months

Text

pairing: marcus pike x alex dozie (fem!OC)

word count & rating: 1.9k | mature

summary: meet marcus. err, i mean—congressman pike.

tags: angst, takes place in 2024, background american politics, lovers to exes to uh?, angst, heavy petting but no smut, previous relationship, alex ice bitch moments (but it's justified and i will fight to the death for her).

tags & notes: @atinylittlepain @amanitacowboy | this is a scheduled post - I'm still away. Please enjoy this pithy little bitch in my absence.

Rain. It’s been raining in D.C. for the past eight days with no end in sight. Homes flooded, whole blocks evacuated as basements fill with rainwater all around the city. The leading story of this twenty-four hour news cycle is if a bulging spot in the White House’s East Wing ceiling will break and flood the office of the First Lady.

The town car, sleek with water droplets, pulls up to the cubic brick building. When the vehicle halts next to the sidewalk, Marcus nods at his driver.

“Thanks, Hal,” he says.

“Would you like me to pull around back, sir?”

“No need. Take the rest of the day off.”

“Sir?”

“I’ll be a while,” Marcus says. “Don’t worry about it.”

He gets out of the car without another word. Oxfords don’t take too well to the rain. He makes his way through puddles gathered on the granite and marble walkway quickly. The guard at the door nods at him, shoulders dry beneath the building’s overhang when he opens the door for Marcus. Sorry, Congressman Pike.

Inside, the walls are mostly wood paneled. Stuffy and dated. Glancing around the place through her eyes as he makes his way, he knows that must be all she can see.

She’d want glass, Marcus thinks. Windows, disregarding the safety concerns.

She would say something like, “This is an office for the people. Why is it hidden from them?”

That’s what Marcus loves about her.

When he reaches the office he’s searching for, he stops at the receptionist’s desk. The man sat behind it is undeniably pretty, teeth perfectly white in the polite smile he flashes.

He asks, “Here to see Ms. Dozie, sir?”

Marcus nods, giving him a yes.

“You must be Congressman Pike.” He holds out his hand. Not shocking the kid knows him generally—he is a public figure—but surprising that he knows him and works for her.

Maybe she talks about me.

“Marcus is fine,” Marcus tells the man, shaking it.

“Cameron Temple,” he returns. “She’s through the second door that way.”

Marcus heads in the direction that Cameron points him to, squaring his shoulders when the first door closes behind him. He doesn’t have to knock on the second, wide open already. Alex sits behind a desk—grand and sturdy, dark European oak. She’s pouring over documents with a pen, scribbling in different places every few seconds. Silently, Marcus walks to the doorway and leans against the jamb.

She looks different. An image refined. Marcus observes the simple blazer draped over the back of her chair, the loose neckline of her blouse. She’s grown into herself since leaving the campaign. Since leaving him.

“Your hair’s different,” Marcus finally says.

Eyes still on the page she’s annotating, Alex says, “We’re going to ignore that that’s the first thing you’ve decided to say to a Black woman and pretend you just said hi.”

When she looks up at him, dark braids frame the sides of her face. Marcus remembers her straight bangs, or the flowing pin curls she wore to his swearing in ceremony. A different life. A different woman. And yet they’re both Alex Dozie all the same.

“Alex,” he says, stepping over the threshold of her office.

“Marcus,” she returns. Then she corrects herself. “Congressman. What brings you to the Capitol?”

Is it too straightforward to tell her that it’s her? Well, maybe not entirely. He’s been appointed to a congressional committee. His introductory hearing is tomorrow. But Marcus came here first. That has to count for something.

“Here for the energy and commerce meeting. Thought I’d stop by,” Marcus says.

“Well thanks for saying hi,” Alex says.

“Alex…”

“What?”

Glancing back at the door, Marcus pushes at it. They both watch as it closes. Clicking shut, he says, “It’s good to see you.”

“Sure it is,” Alex says. “What do you want Marcus?”

“To talk to you. Catch up. You never called.”

“I left.”

“I’m aware,” Marcus says. “You just—you disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear. You won the election and I found a new job,” Alex says.

“Before resigning your old one.”

“I gave you my letter.”

“Through an aide,” Marcus counters. “You told some twenty-something intern to leave it on my desk.”

“And you knowing that means you got it. Good, great. Glad we could clear that up.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Being like what, Marcus?” Alex asks. “You won. You are one of the one hundred and eighteen people to ever represent the state of Vermont in the United States House of Congress. You got what you wanted. Somewhere along the way, I played a small part to make that happen. What else do you want from me?”

Alex had been his press secretary, quick-thinking with undeniable charm hiding behind that Howard law degree. She was more than that, though. Lonely evenings at the campaign office turned into late night drinks with a new friend, and then something more. Marcus was in love; stupidly, wildly. He had hoped that she was too. And then she left, and there was no hope left for him to wonder.

“I need to know why,” he says. “Why you left.”

Alex takes in a breath, brows raising as her nose scrunches. Marcus has seen her do that a million times, making that face whenever a reporter threw her a particularly stupid question. They aren’t a team anymore. He’s on the outside looking in. Marcus has been reduced to the level of everyone else.

“It doesn’t matter why I left. You didn’t need me anymore,” Alex says.

“That’s not true. You know that's not true,” Marcus says. “We could have found you a job somewhere. You could’ve kept your old one!”

“Maybe I just got tired. The sneaking around, sex in dark corners. Hiding in the backseat of your car when someone parked theirs in the garage. What is that? What was that supposed to mean for me?”

“You’re telling me that you couldn’t see into our future?” Marcus asks.

“What future? The one where I’m your smart, but not too smart, pretty-for-a-Black-girl trophy wife? You’re lauded in the press for marrying a woman of colour and I get to sit outside the door while the big boys plot your path to the Governor’s mansion. Is that it? Do you think that’s what I want, Marcus?”

“I thought you wanted me. Us,” he says. Marcus’ eyes are soft circles now, sorrow plain on his face. A wounded animal waiting for the killing blow.

“Things don’t work like that,” Alex says, eyes glued to the floor. She’s trying to keep the tears at bay, pursing her lips hard in the way Marcus remembers. She hates crying in front of other people. Said it feels like dying inside. “It doesn’t matter what I wanted. I have to work twice as hard—”

“For half of what I have,” Marcus says. “I know.”

“Then why are you here?” Alex asks again, barely a whisper.

“Does it matter that I loved you? That I always did?” he asks.

Eyes watering, she fixes her gaze to the ceiling. Anywhere but on him. “Please stop.”

Marcus takes three steps closer to her. The closest he’s been in fourteen months, not that he’s keeping count. “Alex—”

“Please.”

A tear slips and falls, rolling down her cheek. Marcus wipes it away on instinct, thumb grazing her skin. It takes a moment for her to flinch away from his touch, walking back around the desk to put space between them. He doesn’t follow, respecting the physical boundary.

“I’m sorry to ambush you here. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Phone call. Letter, hell, telegram?” Alex options. “It’s been a year. You should have moved on.”

“Have you?”

The question is loaded; a pistol full of bullets that he’s openly handing her. Alex looks at it, weighing her options. Her answer really just might kill him.

“No,” she says quietly. “Everything has been so busy and…” Alex starts talking, reorganizing a stack of files at the corner of her desk. She doesn’t seem to notice Marcus rounding the corner of it and walking over to her side until she turns and he’s right there in front of her.

They’ve been in this exact position before. She’s swapped the pencil skirts for dress pants and the suits he can afford to wear these days are much nicer. This close, her breath icy against his lips from the gum she chews to focus, Marcus can sense that nothing has truly changed. Everything else is mere set dressing. Whatever is between them is still what it says on the tin.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Marcus says. He falters a half-step, giving Alex the chance to slip away. An out.

All she does is nod, says, “Okay.”

The kiss is hard. Teeth and spit clash and mix as Marcus gently sits her down at the very edge of her desk. The thought of her desk does something to him, cock stirring in his expensive pants. Assistant District Attorney in the office of the nation’s capital. A powerful woman, Alex is finally getting what she deserves. He kind of likes the idea of her telling him what to do, too.

She breaks up the kiss with a gentle hand to his chest. “We can’t do this here.”

Marcus takes a moment to scold his disappointment, keeping his face neutral. “Right,” he blinks. “Right, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Alex says. He sees a flash of the woman he used to know when she speaks. “I just—it’s my office. Cameron’s right outside.”

Slowly, Marcus backs away from her. Alex rearranges her top, putting it back in place. She looks gorgeous. More comfortable in her own skin than Marcus has ever seen her. The shyness she’d shown everyone when they first met is what drew him to her, but discovering the bold woman behind the meek facade is what had him tripping over himself.

“Your secretary is kind of hot,” Marcus says, trying to slice through any tension.

Alex lets out a big laugh, face splitting into a smile as she sucks in a harsh breath. “He’s the receptionist,” she says. “He’s a good kid. Does his job, makes sure I don’t look like an idiot in court.”

“You could never look like an idiot,” Marcus says.

“You need to stop that,” but there’s no force in her tone. Alex’s words are playful, the finger pointing at him more teasing than accusatory.

Something kicks in—an instinct or a sudden thought. The smile falls from her face, hands at her sides as Alex clears her throat. It’s like her brain has enacted the disciplinary protocols to shut down any experience of joy. Marcus watches it all play out on her face in an instant.

He beats her to the punch. “I should go.”

“You should,” she agrees.

“It was…good to see you, Alex,” Marcus says.

“Likewise, Congressman Pike.”

The wall is up again. That glimpse of the woman he knew was only that.

She’s right. Things have changed. Alex has changed. It’s been a year. Marcus should have moved on.

Without another word, he opens the door and leaves. Cameron is on the phone when he passes by, walking quickly through the building. A race into the rain. Surprisingly, the car Marcus arrived in is still parked at the curb when he gets outside. With the harsh beat in his chest, Marcus can’t find it in him to get even a little bit annoyed that he wasn’t listened to.

He pulls the back passenger door open himself, shielding his face from the rain with the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“You’re still here,” Marcus says.

“I figured you would still need a ride, sir,” Hal tells him. There's a tell in his tone, a knowing that Marcus can't shake.

“Right,” Marcus nods. “Well, thank you. We can go back to the hotel now.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x fem!oc #the mentalist #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #the mentalist fanfiction #fic: a little bit of truth #pedrostories

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ksiondzkanexkiii · 16 days

Text

MAYBE YOU'RE NOT A BAD PERSON

Chapter Seven

Next Chapter (8)

The story is also on wattpad, the link to my profile can be found in biography <3 Enjoy

Their different view of the world from a few days ago caused them to stop speaking to each other, just as before they were both eager to learn about each other and their opinions so now they fell silent. Jinx sat in "her room" and drew in her diary all day and the new objects they stole were useful to improve her drawings

The captain, on the other hand, buried himself in his work cutting himself off from the world to be able to focus on his work, he was greatly annoyed if someone or something disturbed him. Any slightest sound could irritate the captain even more, and so it was enough for him that there was a mass of things to sign, to read. And the piles of sheets of paper didn't seem to end, as much as he wanted to focus on his work the scene from five days ago, when he told Jinx to quit getting inspired by the graffiti on the walls, kept playing in his head.

Why did he think about it so much, why did it not give him peace of mind? Did he do wrong in forbidding her to look at those scribbles on the walls, in his opinion he did the right thing, but his mind kept nagging him as if he had done something wrong. But he couldn't tell what

He was supposed to change her, so he will change her. He'll only change the distribution of the game, before, the advantage was a teenager didn't use it or didn't take full advantage of it, but now it wasn't that important. He now had a full deck of cards that he could use and was going to use, all he has to do is be firm and know what the game is really about

Because it doesn't change a teenage girl to enter a normal life, at least that's what he thought. If she just leaves his house she will return to life on the street as a criminal, but this time not a juvenile delinquent who has seemingly strayed into a dark alley. And a law-abiding criminal who probably entered this world at her own behest and at her own request.

He couldn't change her habits, he couldn't change her. He could only understand, but Kate wants her to change and he must somehow accomplish this task for his longtime friend whether in battle or in a private relationship he was doing it for her

At least that's what he thought

Yet what he didn't know was that the teenager shamelessly searched his home, noting that if he sits in his office he doesn't leave it unless pressured by an urgent need to go to the bathroom. So for the last five days, when they stopped talking to each other she watched him and vice versa. She was the only one with a purpose and he was just figuring out how to start a conversation, they were both able to be silent at the table eating together which was strange, but eating breakfast or it was lunch together. Afternoon tea they usually skipped.

Finally deciding to strike, she looked around the captain's apartment, peering into every nook and cranny effectively tiptoeing around like a mouse, making no sound. She didn't find anything interesting, but she didn't look in one room, which she avoided every night as if the room was on fire.

The captain's room

Only there she did not poke her nose, her sticky hands, her mind. quiet footsteps headed to the thick heavy door, she gently pressed the handle to open the door with a quiet push

The old wood of the floor gently creaked under her feet, but she didn't care. The apartment she came to live in had thick walls you had to really strain your hearing to hear anything and the Captain is most likely sitting up to his ear tips in paperwork. Which he probably isn't doing, because he has other things to do than listen to whether a teenage girl is wandering around his apartment

His bedroom wasn't gigantic, but it wasn't small either, she could tell it was even smaller than her proverbial room. He had a bed for two people, but only one side looked used and the other side of the bed was waiting for his person to lie there, the captain's closet was half-open as if he hadn't closed the closet all the way. Probably normal for him, a bookshelf with many books ranging from classic literature to fantasy and horror books he certainly had different moods for books come to think of it he doesn't look like a person who reads fantasy or horror.

She very much considered him a person who reads classic literature optionally thrillers. Moving to the other part of the room, she approached the nightstand that was on the used side of the bed. She opened the first drawer to encounter some medicines and a box of tissues, the medicines were for sleep and for sedation

He is plagued by nightmares, the teenager guessed, putting away the medicines. She opened the second drawer to encounter more papers that swarmed on Price's desk, but... these were different

Letters? The teenager wondered, in her mind she had to make a note to herself to read them later. At a time when she would have more time to rummage through his things, but some of the letters already made her feel like sinking into their contents The captain's sloppy handwriting was not hard to read, but it was not aesthetically pleasing either.

The walker should she read them?

She must, otherwise curiosity would consume her. The only thing she regretted to the fact that she didn't have any key or something to help her escape from this swamp she found herself in, not that she had anything against swamps, but she felt like leaving here she didn't want to be here so much. She wanted to feel freedom again

To feel the wings she had when she was alone and free, the same wings that lifted her above danger. To be able to paint again. Oh how she longed for that, drawing in a journal was not the same as painting on the walls of a building she couldn't afford a canvas so the canvas was the wall

She did not consider doing graffiti as vandalism. She thought it was art, each mural has a story and features it wants to convey he didn't understand that for him it was scribbles and for her it was the most important moments of life he didn't understand

He didn't understand why she was short of breath when she sees each mural on the wall, why her imagination imagines painting it all, he didn't understand why it was so important to her

He didn't understand what was behind it.

She walked around his bedroom trying to find anything, but nothing. Complete emptiness, the captain is not stupid he knew that the teenager would rummage through his room sooner or later he prepared for it every possible thing he made sure to the last detail, he made everything to the last button as far as not letting the teenager escape. Jinx had two options to give in to the program and change which she disliked very much, or to try to continue to escape and seek happiness.

At the same time, she felt like choosing the second option, but the first option also appealed to her as if from the depths of her blackest thoughts screamed trying to break through her selfish mind, trying to advise her better to take help and fit in with everyone to live a normal life.

And not live on the streets wondering what her end will be or death by starvation, thirst by hypothermia? Or maybe killed by another homeless person. Maybe the first option wasn't so pointless, but she didn't want to change so much she wanted to be herself, it wasn't an option

She quickly left the captain's room quietly closing the door behind her. She already wanted to escape to , "her room" but the muscular and warm chest she fell into blocked her corridor, she raised her eyes as she took a step back and an awkward smile came out on her face.

Price. The captain stood in front of her with a raised eyebrow and his hands behind his back - Did you find what you were looking for? - his voice was not calm or kind, his tone of voice was strained as if he was holding on the verge of annoyance

- I? I was not looking for anything - I confessed, but he knew the truth, his eyebrow raised higher. The captain's blue eyes still looked at me judgmentally and his pupils narrowed - You lie Jinx. - he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world

Because it was.

- You were snooping - his hands rested on his hips blocking wider the corridor she could use to escape to the room where he made her sleep. He knew what he was doing and she tried to squeeze through his posture anyway, tried to squeeze between his arms and the wall. She didn't answer anything and he took that as an answer, he didn't feel like talking to her he didn't feel like yelling at her.

He didn't feel like doing anything, he was tired already

- Normal people don't look through other people's things - he started to explain with a sigh fell out of his mouth. a very tired sigh - Go to your room and don't come out of it, until I come up with a punishment -.

He basically threw her into the room, took her by the collar of her shirt and with the strength he extracted from his tired muscles pushed the teenager towards the room and closed the door behind him. As if he wanted to preserve the last remnants of culture, which was almost negligible here anyway

He didn't care where the teenager landed and she landed on her feet after the push, surprised by the captain's behavior. Something twitched her deep in her heart as if she felt sad and felt how she had let him down

- You can't lock me up! - she shouted and her voice bounced off the walls. She didn't know if he heard her - You will never change me even if you tried harder! - she added again, but quieter

But why?

Why does it feel this way

She sat up straight on the ground and looked at the closed white door she felt bile rise to her throat and stress pulsed in her head. She reached for her journal to start drawing to relax her mind it didn't help Jinx's gaze stopped on the door again

Why does she feel this way. She didn't understand anything

She was sick of it

At the same time she knew what she had done wrong, she didn't feel like blaming Price for demanding justice even if she had only snooped in his room, but she hadn't stolen anything!

Still

Annoyed, she threw the journal against the wall, the notebook hit the wall landing on the floor with a deafening tickle. The notebook was half-open and lying against the wall, she no longer had the strength for anything she had lost it with this conversation

They both didn't understand what they expected from each other, what they wanted. They don't understand anything in the sense he understands she doesn't

He's fed up with everything, but he agreed to this arrangement so he moves on and she stands still in her closed hard bubble that she doesn't want to leave because she feels safer there

- Everything sucks," she muttered to herself she got up from the ground, looked around she looked at the window that had bars in it, "what if," she said to herself as if there was someone in the room with her in her head.

Does this mean she is mentally ill?

Perhaps.

She walked quickly to the window opened it ajar looked at the screws with which it was bolted. She smiled to herself all she had to do was find or steal the screwdriver and she would be free, luck was finally smiling on her.

Either she finds the screwdriver in Price's apartment, which she doubts after he caught her snooping around most likely she will have to sit in the room constantly and will only come out when they go out for their daily run or when he comes for her to do another task outside.

All she has to do is lay out a plan and not get caught.

She closed the windows to keep the captain from guessing what her clever head had come up with. She took out her backpack from under the bed took some of her things basically everything she had and put it in the backpack took the journal, which was slightly damaged by hitting the wall

Cursing under her breath she quickly put it in the backpack without worrying if it would suffer more, this notebook had already been through a lot, many pages had fallen out and many were already crumpled, but it continues to serve her bravely. It will take her a few days to find a good screwdriver as if she knew her way around a tool she probably wouldn't have to guess which one is good, but she must be ready to run now

She has to seriously consider every eventuality, every plan. And most importantly she needs to get the money

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spartanguard · 8 months

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cryptid chaos (A Tall Tail)

Summary: It's almost Halloween, and the recently freed Author has decided to make Storybrooke into the setting of a horror novel. Emma suddenly has actual swan wings; Killian is even more of a mer-creature than usual. But how do they undo all the changes when no one knows how the Author's power works? Can they figure it out--or are they stuck? a/n: Welcome back to the A Tall Tail verse! So I definitely meant to have this done for Halloween, but…it's still spooky season, right? Hope you enjoy some silliniess! rated T | 8.7k words | AO3 | A Tall Tail

Emma let out a long sigh as she stared across the water of the harbor, the full moon’s dappled reflection dancing in the waves. What a freakin’ week. In all the chaos of the so-called Queens of Darkness and locking Gold away, they’d kind of forgotten about one of the bigger things they’d been trying to do: tracking down the mysterious author of Henry’s storybook in search of Regina’s happy ending.

Once things had settled down a bit, they got back into it—kind of literally; it turned out the Author (whose name was Isaac, apparently) had actually been trapped inside the book. She was becoming more and more used to (or jaded by) magical bullshit, so to see a man emerge from the pages of a gigantic tome from a key inserted to an illustration of a door wasn’t the oddest thing she’d seen, but it was still weird.

Although now it’s just a headache, she complained to herself.

Since his arrival—or, rather, escape—the squirrelly man had been causing all sorts of drama across town; I guess that’s what a writer does, huh? It had all been petty nonsense, or people with bones to pick about how their life had gone (and really with no one to blame for it but themselves), but everyone had been demanding her help in dealing with it and she needed a damn break.

Which was why she was waiting for Killian on the deck of the Jolly Roger; he’d gone out for one of his usual swims to calm his magic, but they had plans to spend the night together. Alone. And very close, with few clothes. (Maybe with some rum in there, too.) Technically, Emma was early, but her little brother was teething and, though she felt bad leaving her parents to deal with that, she’d needed to get away from the chaos of the loft.

Being by the water was definitely calming her down, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off; maybe it was just Isaac, and the psychological upheaval he seemed to be inducing in most of the town; or maybe it was just the fact that it was a full moon and they were a few days away from Halloween—gods only know what kind of trouble that can bring to a town like this.

That was a problem for future Emma, though; current Emma smiled when she heard footsteps fall on the gangplank and began to turn around to greet her True Love.

“Was wondering when you’d…oh.” Her face fell; it was Isaac. “Can I help you?” (...Get out of town, preferably.)

“Actually, I was hoping it’d be the other way around,” he said, in a way that reminded her of an appliance store salesman.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Have you ever heard of the legend of swan maidens?” he asked, moving closer to her; she wanted to yell at him about setting foot on deck without the captain’s permission, but she was too confused.

“Uh, some of it, I guess?”

He pulled out a pad of paper and an antique-looking pen from his coat pocket as he went on. “Well, there’s a few, but I’ve always been a fan of some of the Irish stories—the ones where their goddesses choose to take on the form of a swan, only identifiable by a chain around their neck,” he said, nodding at Emma’s own silver necklace. Instinctively, her hand went to it—to hide it, she guessed, even though her old swan pendant was long gone and the necklace she’d fashioned for her magic seashell was made of leather. What the hell is he getting at?

He looked down at his notepad and started to scribble something down. “I imagine that would come with a lot of freedom—especially from some unwanted burdens,” he continued. Oh, like your presence? Emma quipped in her head. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I guess,” she said, unconvinced. Her phone then vibrated in her pocket; hopefully, Isaac was almost done here.

“Good,” he replied, with a smile on his face that she couldn’t quite read. Then he tore the page off his notebook and handed it to her.

Not thinking, she took it. She tried to read the drying ink on the paper, but only managed to recognize the word “wings” before a blast of magic sent her falling backwards—and over the railing of the ship into the water below.

Please let Killian be here, she hoped; but no such luck. Instead, she fell into the sea with a splash and the cold water stole her breath. She tried to move her arms up and down to ascend, but it felt like they were made of lead. Still, she pushed through, and finally broke through the surface.

She gave herself a minute to float and catch her breath before swimming back over to the ship (and punching the crap out of Isaac).

It was odd, though—usually, she needed more lower-body effort to tread water, but her arms alone were keeping her above surface-level.

So that’s when she looked at her arms—and screamed. “What the fuck? What the FUCK?” She didn’t care who heard her swear—but, on second thought, she did care who saw her.

Because she now had freaking wings where her arms had been. Not, like, angel wings coming from her back or something—literal long, feathered appendages where her much-shorter arms had been a minute ago. In fact, they looked like…”A swan,” she realized on a breath. Just what the hell did Isaac do?

She glanced around for the piece of paper he’d given her, but it was floating ahead of her, completely soaked—and illegible. But it had to be him, right?

Well, first thing first: she had to get out of the water. Can I fly? She flapped her arms—wings—whatever they were, if only to see what would happen. Astonishingly, she did rise out of the water a bit, before falling back even farther in.

Undeterred (and starting to feel self-conscious), she did again, and again, until, somehow, she was in the air. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing, but some new sort of muscle memory took over and all too soon, she was soaring around the harbor. This is actually kind of cool, she acknowledged, but definitely not something I want permanently.

Isaac was no longer on the ship; she should probably try to track him down, but she had no clue how to counter…whatever it was he was doing. She was still pretty fuzzy on his powers and how they worked. Regina was the most likely person to find, but for some reason, she didn’t want to bother her just yet; nor did she want to terrify her parents by turning up at the loft like this.

And she definitely didn’t want Killian to see her. So she headed to the only place she could think of—the cove; he wouldn’t think to look for her there, and she could stay away from prying eyes. And gods only know what this wind is doing to my hair.

Somehow, she managed to land on her feet on the rocky shore, though she wouldn’t call it graceful. Her wings instinctively folded in on themselves; that’s gonna take some getting used to. And she paced the beach while thinking of what to do—and coming up with no ideas.

She was the Savior and the Sheriff; shouldn’t I be out there trying to stop him? But how could she when she didn’t know how? And was this a targeted attack, or was he going to do this again? Is this why I can’t shake this weird feeling about him?

Her thoughts were interrupted by splashing near Killian’s rock. Oh crap; that better not be him. Cautiously, she stepped closer, but extended her wings in case she needed to make a hasty escape.

Something reached up from the water—but it wasn’t her True Love. It had webbed fingers, and blue-toned skin covered in scales, like some creature out of a horror film.

Nope. Not dealing with monsters, too. Before whatever-it-was could climb out of the water and terrify her further, she took flight (much faster this time) and flew off into the night. She didn’t know where she was headed, but she was getting as far away from the water as possible.

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

Killian broke through the surface at the cove to see something flying away. Bloody hell; I bet that was her. Given what had just happened to him—and comments that bloody author fellow had made—he had to assume something similar happened to Emma. And whatever that creature was looked particularly like a swan.

He’d been out for his regular swim, with plans to meet Emma at his ship for a much-needed evening alone. There were times when he was under water that he lost track of time, but tonight was not one of them—not when he knew he’d be having much more fun above the surface.

But when he ascended to the deck of the Jolly Roger, he was shocked to see Isaac there. Alone. When he asked if he could assist him, the man instead returned the offer, then pointed to Killian’s tail, on full display as he perched on the railing. “What a plot twist,” the man commented. “I never could have anticipated that. Makes for an excellent story.”

“Aye; I suppose,” Killian had responded, confused. Isaac continued on, though, talking about other creatures of the deep; honestly, Killian was distracted, and starting to get worried about Emma, when he mindlessly agreed to something Isaac had said—perhaps about truly embracing his powers?

The author had written something with a queer-looking quill on a notepad, then tore it off and came closer to Killian. “I’m glad you agree; Emma did, too.” Then he handed the sheet over.

“What did Emma—” Killian started to ask as he took the slip of paper, but he didn’t get to finish his question before a wave of magic came from nowhere and toppled him off his seat.

He was distinctly aware of the way some odd magic was wrapping around him as he fell back into the ocean—it was definitely transformation magic, but unlike the kind he usually felt, which focused on his lower half, this went all over. It’s like when the Dark One cursed me…but at least not painful.

Once he regained his orientation underwater, he gave himself a checkover; for starters, he could see much clearer than he should have been able to at this time of night. He definitely had gills on his neck again—but also a few along his ribcage as well. He ran his fingers over them, which when he noticed that the webbing between them had returned—but rather than his usual pallor, his skin seemed to have taken on a bluish hue and was covered with even more scales. And he took my bloody chest hair again.

The real question was if it had the same effect on his ability to breathe out of the water; thankfully, when he broke the surface, he didn’t suffocate. That will at least make this easier—whatever this is. He hated to make a retreat, but he didn’t want to draw any undue attention by his odd appearance now, so he dove back under and made for the cove; he had to hope Emma would understand—and prayed she wasn’t dealing with a similar transformation of some sort.

But seeing the winged creature fleeing the beach seemed to confirm his fears; and knowing Emma, despite everything, she’d want to deal with it on her own. Like hell I’ll let her, though.

But he’d give her a moment to calm down, and took one of his own to assess if this new spell had altered his powers; thankfully, as a whirlpool formed in the water in front of him where he sat on the edge of the rock, he seemed to be alright on that front. He wasn’t sure what was ahead, but had a feeling those would be necessary.

Then he reached for the shell necklace that always hung around his neck.

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

Emma was trying to live up to the bird stereotype by perching in a tree in the middle of the forest. Trying being the operative word; oh right—swans are waterfowl. But she eventually managed to find her balance high up in a birch. It was only a temporary solution, but it was the one she felt most confident about right now. She just wished her unexpected dive hadn’t fried her phone so she could let her parents or Killian know she was fine; not like I could really use it now anyway, what with the lack of fingers and all.

Of course, that’s when her other means of communication made itself known. “Swan?”

She cringed for a moment; normally, she loved the way Killian said her chosen surname, but it was a little too on the nose right now. (At least I don’t have a beak too, I guess?)

Taking hold of the shell was a whole other thing, though; it worked best when held in a hand, but she wasn’t sure how it would work with—gods, what even was her bone structure right now? She’d never had an ornithology class like Henry did.

Regardless, she had to figure out how to get some sort of grip on the shell hanging around her neck; it took a fair amount of fumbling, but she somehow managed to bend her wings just enough to prop the shell on her elbows(?) and bring it closer to her mouth.

“Hey, I’m here,” she finally answered, though her tone was far from casual.

“Are you…okay, love?” He sounded like he already knew the answer; it wasn’t her thing to stand him up without a word.

“I…don’t really know,” she answered.

“Something happened,” he said more than asked.

“Yeah.”

“Isaac?”

Uh-oh. “Yeah,” she replied, a bit more confidently.

“Me too.” He at least sounded less morose than she did, but this—this wasn’t good. “I’m at the cove; meet me here?”

“I, uh,” she stammered. “I don’t know if you’d, ah, want to see me right now.”

“Emma, you know I always want to see you. Besides, I likely have more reason to say that—although I dare say you’ve seen me looking less than ideal before.”

Gods, what had happened to him? He was right, though; he always freaking is. “Yeah, okay; just—give me a few.”

“I can’t wait.” She smiled; regardless of—whatever was going on, she knew he was telling the truth.

Flying was getting easier; she wasn’t sure if that was good or not, but was really just concerned about what kinds of phone calls were coming into the station about some giant bird flying over Storybrooke. Not a problem for tonight though.

Landing, however, was still hit or miss; in this instance, a miss: she didn’t quite slow down enough as she came into the cove and ended up rolling across the pebbled shore. “Owww,” she moaned as she stood and shook the sand from her feathers—then froze when she heard a gasp come from behind her.

She turned—and her own breath stilled. It was definitely Killian seated on the rock (who was definitely the owner of the hand that had scared her earlier, she was embarrassed to admit). His whole upper body was that blue color, made all the more apparent by his lack of body or facial hair (goddammit, Isaac took his beard?)—like when he was under that weird merrow curse, but apparently without the confinement to the water.

Slowly, she moved closer, noticing other new features and—was it just her, or were his eyes an even brighter blue? Or did they just seem like that with how much younger he always looked without his scruff? She wanted to touch his skin, to see what it felt like; she started to reach for him until she remembered—she couldn’t.

Killian, for his part, couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her; his expression was unusually unreadable. “What?” she had to ask, feeling even more self conscious.

He smiled, his dimples even more visible. “Still so beautiful, Swan.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, emphasis on the swan part.”

“I dare say you ‘rock it’, as Henry says.”

Well, that made her laugh. “Okay, fine, but they shouldn’t be here at all,” she complained, her subsequent huff even more visible now.

“Nor should this,” he countered, waving his now-webbed fingers at her. “And we’ll figure out how to get back to normal. But perhaps we'll leave it for tomorrow?” He stroked the edge of her wing with the back of his hand, sending a chill up her spine—a good feeling for the first time since…has it only been an hour? Damn.

She knelt down next to him and, awkwardly, wrapped her wings around him in the best approximation of a hug she could manage. He slipped his arms around her waist to pull her close; he was even colder than usual, but it was the closest she’d felt to normal since this all started, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

It certainly wasn’t how she planned on spending their night, but it’d have to do for now; with any luck, they’d at least be able to go without interruption for a bit.

“Mom? Hook?” Spoke too soon. She didn’t move away from Killian, but she did sit up and look over her shoulder; Henry was standing not far from them, looking confused and concerned. “Something weird is going on.”

Obviously.

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

“What’s the matter, lad?” It was obvious to Killian that Henry was avoiding eye contact, and he didn’t blame him—he was sure they were quite the sight. But hopefully if he remained somewhat calm, Henry would, too.

“Well, I…uh, I was going to say that Isaac has been going around and changing things, but I think you might kinda know?”

“What else has he done?” Emma asked, stiffening in Killian’s arms.

“A bunch of things,” Henry explained. “It started with my mom—I don’t know exactly what he did, but she ran off to her vault, and was covering her face. So I went to see Grandma & Grandpa, but they didn’t answer—I just heard some weird noises behind the door. No one was at Granny’s but I think she’s a wolf again, because there was a big silver one hanging out with Ruby. And I think I saw a swarm of fairies or something? I’ve never seen them small like that.”

Bloody hell; what a mess. It would have been naive to assume he and Emma were Isaac’s only targets, but he’d thought the man was trying to help Regina; why had he attacked her, too?

“What the hell is he doing—making his own little circus sideshow?” Emma complained; that’s certainly what it felt like. “I didn’t think he could even do that.”

“I’ve been working with Belle to figure out how his powers work, but we haven’t gotten very far,” Henry said. “And he won’t say.”

“To the library, then?” Killian posited; one of the best things about regaining his legs was his ability to help out there again. But, speaking of—

“How can we get you there?” Emma wondered, reading his mind. “I can barely fly myself, let alone both of us.”

“Maybe my cuff still works? It’s still on the ship.”

“I’ll go get it.”

Watching Emma take flight was somewhat amusing, but also somewhat beautiful, particularly when she opened her wings fully to lift her off the ground. And much like how quickly he adapted to a lack of legs, there was something almost natural about her flying.

“Wow,” Henry gasped as she took to the air. “That’s…wow.”

“Aye,” Killian sighed. “Obviously none of this is ideal, but I don’t think anyone would complain if you managed to get some pictures with your talking device?”

Henry smirked. “I’ll try.” But his face quickly fell.

“Hey—we’ll figure this out,” Killian assured him. “We always do.”

“I know,” the boy answered. “It was just—the way my mom looked at me before she left. It was Ike she was scared…of me.”

No wonder he’s shaken; poor kid. “Whatever it was, I’m sure she was just trying to keep you safe; I’ve never known her to have any other motivation,” Killian told him, hoping that comforted him.

“Yeah; I’m just worried.”

“Understandable. But let’s try to channel that into focus, aye?” He’d had many an anxious deckhand over the years, not to mention his time spent with Henry’s father, so coaching a nervous young man was nothing new.

Henry nodded just as Emma returned; damn, that was quick. Her land was much more graceful this time around (still far from perfect, but just as endearing).

She had the cuff in her mouth and nearly spat it at him. “Sorry; wasn’t sure how else to hold it,” she explained, before opening her mouth to stretch her jaw.

“It’s fine,” he waved off, ignoring the new teeth marks in the leather. “Here’s hoping this works.” He slipped it on and felt the familiar transformation magic take hold; at least it’s welcome this time.

It worked—mostly. “Huh,” was all he could manage to say when he pulled his legs from the water. He had them, at least, but they had the same pallor and texture as the rest of his skin. (At least, for Henry’s sake, my briefs returned, too.)

“Well? How do you feel?” Emma asked as he stood up.

“Parched,” he answered honestly. Despite being able to breathe out of the water, he immediately felt dehydrated.

“Yeah, you look a little…dull,” Henry confirmed.

He mused for a second, then called up some water from the sea. It swirled around his legs and waist, creating a sort of aquatic garment. It likely looked strange, but he immediately felt better.

“Shall we?”

The three of them surely made an odd sight as they walked through town—of all the weird things Storybrooke had seen, a harpy and a creature from the depths traipsing down Main Street was definitely up there. Despite knowing he wasn’t the only one in a new form tonight, Killian couldn’t help but feel rather like a fish out of water, quite literally; he didn’t often feel self conscious, but the sooner he stopped dripping water down the sidewalk, the better. He just hoped that idiot author hadn't done anything too drastic to anyone else.

The library was unlocked—unsurprising, given the unusually late hours Belle kept it open (typically for situations just like this)—but the mess that greeted them in the foyer was a shock. What in Poseidon’s name happened here?

“Belle, love? You here?” he called out; the worry in his voice was obvious. It wasn’t like her to leave things like this unless something was wrong.

“Back here,” Belle’s voice said, but—why is she so loud?

The three of them made their way to the back part of the library—he was careful not to drip on any of the strewn books—to where it looked like even more of a disaster area. Shelves were knocked down domino-style and ceiling tiles were scattered over them. A few lights had been knocked out, too, making the farthest part of the library dark—but not so dark they couldn’t still see Belle.

It would be hard for her to hide—she was probably 20 feet tall now, if not more, but she’d somehow managed to curl up along the back wall.

“Well, you’re finally taller than me,” Killian eventually quipped, once he found his voice again. What else was he supposed to say? Emma tried to slap him with the back of her hand, but only ended up smacking his chest with the end of her wing and making him stumble backwards.

Belle chuckled—making the whole building vibrate—but then admonished, “Don’t you dare drip on any of these books?”

I’m bloody trying! Regardless, he acknowledged the order with a salute, but Henry got down to business. “What happened?”

“Isaac,” Belle spat. Now that they were closer to her, though, her voice boomed in the comparatively smaller space, making them all wince. “Oh, sorry,” she said softer—but that just brought her back to normal volume. “Something tells me you lot have seen him too?”

“Yup,” Emma confirmed, concurrent with Killian’s “aye”.

“He was commenting on my height,” she started—throwing a pointed look at Killian— “and how impressive it was that someone so small had such power over the Dark One.” The roll of her eyes was almost audible. “Then he said something about my stature matching my personality; I thought he was joking so I said ‘sure’, then he handed me a piece of paper and—this happened.”

“Yeah, that’s what he did to us, too,” Emma said; evidently, Isaac could alter things by writing them—but how?

“Do you have the paper?” Henry asked.

“Um,” Belle hummed, glancing around at the debris surrounding her. “Yeah, here it is,” she said when she found it, placing her (massive) finger on it and sliding it across the tile to them.

Henry picked it up and read aloud: “A giantess: so your stature matches your spirit.” His brow furrowed. “He’s turning people into cryptids?”

“At least, various kinds of mythical beasts,” Killian concurred; if there were actually any beasts out there that resembled him at the moment, he’d have likely encountered them by now. “But you had to agree with him first, right, Belle?”

“I guess so; was it the same with you?”

“He can only change our fate if we want him to,” Emma concluded; he agreed with the hypothesis. “Isn’t that why he was working with Regina?”

“Yeah,” Henry confirmed. “But he did something to her, too.”

“Do you know anything about how his powers work?” Killian wondered, turning back to Belle.

“Only what I saw firsthand,” she supplied. “It’s definitely connected to writing, but I don’t know yet if it’s his own magic or if there’s a conduit, like the pen or the ink. Regina might; or…” She chewed on her bottom lip and ducked her head. “Or Rumple would.”

Of bloody course he would. But they all cast their eyes downward, knowing the Dark One was still locked up in a cell a hundred feet below them.

Before he could start to steel himself to face the Crocodile again, Emma decided. “Regina first,” she stated. “Before we go, do you need anything? Like, can we help you get out or anything?”

“No; I’m fine for now; but I might need some food if this goes on much longer.”

“We’ll do our best to get it worked out,” Killian assured her; there was no way he was going to let his best friend essentially become a prisoner in her favorite place. And who’d have thought it’d be an author that put her there?

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

After saying goodbye, they hustled across town to the cemetery. Along the way, they were startled by the two wolves prowling the patio at Granny’s, and it felt like there was something lurking down every alley, hiding in the shadows.

A stream of colored, bobbing lights flew overhead—the fairies, in their true form, Emma had to assume. Farther up the street, it looked like the dwarves had gathered together, too. Oh gods—what did he do to them?

Surprisingly: nothing. “That weirdo tried to ‘revert us to normal’ or something, but whatever he did, it didn’t work. Probably because we’re already technically ‘magical’ creatures,” Leroy explained, using plenty of finger quotes. “So we’ve just been patrolling for trouble since it seems like we’re the only ones not dealing with shit.” He heavily glanced at Emma’s wings then.

“Uh, thanks,” she said, studying the pavement. “If anything happens, text Henry or Regina, okay?”

“Will do, sister; think we filled up the answering machine at the station anyways.” Yeah, that checks out; she sighed and carried on.

The vault door was open once they got there, but the crypt was closed over the hidden door; that was easy enough to move, though.

“Mom?” Henry called out as he descended the steps ahead of her. “Are you okay?”

Regina was nowhere to be seen in the first room at the foot of the stairs, so Emma called out for her, too—while being careful to keep her wings tucked in and not knock anything over.

“You shouldn’t be here!” Regina’s voice came from…somewhere farther back in the vault—a part Emma had never been to.

“Wait here,” she told Henry, then crept off in the direction it sounded like Regina was hiding in. It was dusty and, weirdly, she felt it settle on her feathers in a way that itched. But down a passage and behind some shelves, she saw a huddled form. “Regina? You alright?”

“Why are you here, Miss Swan?” she bit back, hiding in the shadows. “And why did you bring our son?”

“Because he’s worried about you,” she tossed back. “And honestly, I am, too; what’s going on?”

“That stupid author—that’s what,” Regina spat. “Supposedly, this is how he’s helping me get my ‘happy ending’.”

“...By making everyone else something out of a horror movie?”

“And by making me an immortal, apparently.” Regina stepped into what little light there was. She looked a bit pale, but not a lot more than usual. If anything, she was somehow more gorgeous. (Yes, despite their past issues, Emma could still admit that Regina was an impossibly beautiful woman.)

“Immortal how?”

Regina smiled—kind of; more like bared her teeth. But that’s when Emma saw it: she had fangs. Like a… “Vampire?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Regina said sadly. “I didn’t even know what he was getting at when he started writing it down; he just went on about ‘getting away from my problems someday’. I didn’t think he meant outliving them.”

Who on earth would think that was a good idea? “Is that why you ran away from Henry?”

Regina nodded. “This is going to sound awful, but…his blood smelled amazing.”

“Shit.” I’d run away, too. “Uh, do you need me to leave, too?”

“No; apparently, I don’t have the palate for bird blood.”

“Hopefully you don’t want fish, either,” she quipped back.

Brow furrowing (in a way that absolutely made her look like something out of Buffy), Regina sniffed the air. “Hook? What did he do to him?”

“Did you ever see The Shape of Water?”

“Oh, wow. Well, uh, have fun with that.”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“No—and definitely not in front of Henry.”

They both giggled, but it was only a brief moment of levity. “So can you tell me anything about how this happened—like, how the author powers work? So we can undo it?”

“Some, but he hasn’t been very forthcoming with the details,” Regina answered; she confirmed that his powers were tied to his pen and ink, as well as their theory that it has to be something they want. “He can change things but he still needs some level of consent from at least one party. We should be glad he didn’t write us into an entirely new reality.”

Emma shuddered. “So, what—we just track him down and force him to change it?”

“Maybe? It’s a good theory, but Rumpelstiltskin knows far more about this than I do.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Sorry. Just…don’t bring Henry down there, okay?”

Emma was about to protest—where the hell else am I going to take him to keep him safe from Isaac?—when Regina’s phone rang.

“Crap—what did he do to them?” the mayor complained when she saw who was calling—Snow. She answered the call with a snarky “And what shape are you in?”

Except—she didn’t get a response. Normally, Snow would huff at Regina’s sass, but the only thing that came across was just a series of grunts and grumbles.

“Snow?” The grunting seemed to make a noise of affirmation. “What is going on over there? This better not be the world’s worst butt dial.” (“They don’t sound like that,” Emma quipped, cringing.) But then crying came over the speaker—definitely Neal.

“He’s still teething?” Regina winced. “That was the worst.”

“Yeah—but who’s there with him?” If her parents were fine, nothing would be stopping them from trying to soothe him; Neal pretty much only wanted to be held by her dad right now. “We better check that out first.”

“Absolutely. And let me know how everything else goes.”

“Will do. Do you need anything before we go?”

Regina chewed on her lip, her fangs even more apparent. “Did you see any squirrels up there? I’m starving.” Emma bit back a giggle. “Don’t laugh! I’m serious. And if you ever bring this up again, I can make sure those wings are permanent.”

Emma definitely laughed to herself all the way to the loft, though. Until she heard the sound of her brother crying and her motherly instincts kicked in. “Wait here; let me see what’s going on first,” she told the boys, then knocked on the door with one of her elbows (or whatever those joints were). The same grunting she heard on the phone came from the other side, but somehow more urgent.

Henry ended up having to turn the knob for her, but then she slipped in—and, yet again, her jaw dropped.

“Well, Mom does always say you have big feet,” she said, once she regained something resembling her faculties.

The sandy-blond sasquatch that had David’s eyes huffed in annoyance. Meanwhile, the snow-white yeti that vaguely looked like her mom wasn’t hesitating to take her by the wing and drag her to the bassinet, where Neal was inconsolable.

“He’s scared of you?” Emma guessed; Snow nodded sadly.

(Seriously—Snow, a yeti? At least Isaac has a sense of humor.)

“Okay, but I can’t do much either,” she said, flapping her wings. “Henry? It’s okay; can you come in?”

She saw his phone come through the door before he did, no doubt taking plenty of photos and videos for them to look back on. “That’s just wrong,” he concluded at the sight of his (much hairier) grandparents; Killian was clearly holding back a quip, no doubt in response to David’s many jokes in the past about his chest hair (especially given the current reversal of that situation).

“Kid, think you can take care of your uncle while we figure the rest of this out?”

He pocketed his phone and quickly scooped up Neal. “Sure thing. We got this, right, little dude?” Neal quieted for a little bit, but then let out another ear-piercing scream. Everyone cringed.

“Okay; good luck with that—bye!” she called over her shoulder as she shoved Killian ahead of her in a hasty escape.

“Will they be okay?” Killian asked as they headed back down the stairs.

“Oh yeah, they’ll be fine. My ears will not be, though.” They shared a laugh. “Alright; let’s get this over with.”

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

“Back again?” Belle greeted them at the library, having moved slightly from her cramped spot in the back to a no more comfortable, but at least larger spot, having shoved the ruined shelves aside and laying across the whole room.

“Aye; into the belly of the beast, as it were,” Killian replied as they headed to the elevator.

“Good luck,” she said, sounding more bored than anything; despite the public’s requests, the library had yet to seriously invest in any large-print books that might help her pass the time.

As they descended in the creaky elevator, he wasn’t sure if the creeping chill he felt slipping up his spine was due to the inherent cool temperature of the caverns below, or his own emotions at facing his longtime foe for the first time in a long while—since Rumple nearly killed him that day on the docks.

Emma’s feathers brushed against his hand, startling him from his thoughts. “Sorry; I was trying to grab your hand, until I forgot I can’t. You gonna be okay?”

“I will,” he answered, hoping he could convince himself as much as her. There was nothing the Crocodile could do to them, he knew; but despite thinking he’d moved past what he’d experienced at the Dark One’s hands, his anxieties were creeping up.

“I’ll take the lead, though, okay?”

“I appreciate that, love,” he thanked, and squeezed the edge of her wing.

The caves below the library were little changed from his last trip down here, even if he was on the opposite side of things now—with the heroes, rather than against. However, this was the first time he’d seen the cage that had been fabricated to hold the imp. It was set deep into the wall, not unlike the one that had once held him back in the Enchanted Forest, but with solid metal bars clearly from this realm. It wasn’t hard to feel the magic radiating off them, though.

“Rumple? You there?” Emma called out; this cell went farther back than the light could reach, so it was easy for the man to hide. For the first time, Killian wondered what his mental state might be, given his brief insanity after being held hostage by Zelena (body sharing with his son notwithstanding).

“No,” the Crocodile’s voice called out from the shadows. “Come back later and I might be, though.”

“Ha. We found the Author.” She stood in front of the far edge of the cell.

She’s wise not to ask for help, he noticed. Handing Rumpelstiltskin any cards was a terrible idea.

“Good for you; what does that have to do with me?”

Emma had been fiddling with something on the wall with one of the joints of her wings; all of a sudden, light flooded the cell, revealing a rather dusty but otherwise normal-looking Dark One, still wearing the same (stylish, he hated to admit) suit as the day they locked him up.

Rumple blinked his eyes at the sudden brightness, but once his sight had adjusted, he skimmed over Emma and then Killian. “I see,” he said. “I’d be happy to undo it, if you let me out.”

“Nice try, but no. We’ve just been trying to figure out how his powers work. We know his pen and ink are involved. Trying to figure out if it’s worth it to steal it back.”

Killian had to school his features; he was genuinely impressed at Emma’s negotiation tactics here. Obviously, they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t need help, but outright asking would get them nowhere. As such, it was taking more effort than expected to keep a proud (or smug) look off his face.

“It’s not,” Rumple replied. “That’s only half of it.”

“Really? Regina seemed to think that’s all we needed.”

“Regina is wrong. But the only person who can actually help you is currently locked away.”

“Again, you’re not getting out.”

“Not me,” he hissed. “But the pirate knows who.”

Emma turned to Killian, confused. “Huh?”

For a brief second, he was also unsure—until he glanced over at the Dark One, who was smirking—and wiggling the fingers of his left hand.

Oh, bloody hell. Killian sighed and curled in on himself a bit. “The old man.”

“Otherwise known as the Sorcerer's Apprentice—and a thorn in my side for quite a few years, until I finally had some assistance locking him away.”

Shame flushed hot on Killian’s unusually cold cheeks. “He’s in the hat box, love,” he said quietly.

“Ah, crap,” she cursed. “Does Regina know how to get anyone else out of there, or was that a one-time thing?”

“I’ll tell you if you let me—” Rumple started, only to be cut off.

“No!” Emma interjected. “C’mon; I bet Belle knows.”

“How…how is she?” the Dark One asked, suddenly sounding rather genuine.

“She’s a bloody giantess and stuck in the library right now, thanks to that idiot author,” Killian jumped in. “But otherwise fine.”

The Crocodile opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and slumped in on himself. “The fairies,” he said, resigned. “They’ll know how to get him out by now.”

“Thanks,” Killian said quickly, then grabbed Emma by the wingtip and practically dragged her back to the elevator.

What little adrenaline he had faded on the slow ride up, and he simply wrapped himself around Emma. “Hey—this doesn’t feel like okay,” she said softly as she folded her wings around him—a feeling he was coming to quite enjoy, odd as it was.

“Just—being reminded of the man I used to be, even not that long ago,” he admitted. “I’m so sorry, Emma.”

“Hey—we’ll figure it out. And remember: that was way more Rumpelstiltskin than you.”

“I don’t think you’re giving me enough credit, love.”

“This is the one time you should just accept less of the blame, alright?”

He chuckled a bit; she knows my tendency towards self-flagellation well. “I’ll try.”

“Okay. So now, we find the hat, and then the fairies. And then maybe it’ll all be done?”

“Let’s hope.”

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

Is this night fucking over yet? Emma took a moment to breathe after Killian left to retrieve the Sorcerer’s hat box thing from Gold’s shop, per Belle’s instructions. The fact that their to-do list kept growing was really annoying, and gods only knew what else Isaac had done in the last few hours.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel, but it still seemed like it was incredibly far away.

And she was craving fish sticks. Is that a swan thing? Or is that an I-never-had-dinner thing?

She gave herself one more minute to brood before starting the search for the fairies. On the bright side, they literally were—bright; she just had to be on the look out for a cloud of multicolored lights (giving off far more Christmas vibes than Halloween). But they weren’t in the middle of town, so that meant actually looking, and she did not have the energy to go traipsing around on her own right now.

Might as well use these while I have them. For hopefully the last time, she took to the sky, hoping a (literal) birds-eye view would help her locate the swarm of fairies faster. Sure enough, once she was fairly high above Main Street, she saw the floating baubles—near the convent, unsurprisingly.

They were a little miffed when she accidentally flew through the middle of them, but when she explained what was going on and what they needed, they practically carried her back downtown on their breeze.

Killian was already standing outside the library with the golden box, looking visibly uncomfortable with it. Don’t blame him. Before she even had a chance to (try to) properly land, Blue was buzzing in front of him, conducting a few other fairies to take the box and hold it in front of her.

She stood next to Killian and watched as the head fairy went to work quickly, waving her wand and muttering something over the cylinder. The starry blue top began to swirl, like it had when they released the fairies, and glowed as it became something more resembling a portal.

All of a sudden, it stopped, and an old man that Emma had seen around town a couple times was seated on the pavement, looking rather bedraggled (though I think he kind of always did).

Killian didn’t hesitate to rush forward and help the man up, no doubt uttering profuse apologies as he did. The Apprentice was trying to get his bearings, it seemed, but was at least appreciative for his freedom.

“Hi,” Emma jumped in, not wanting to delay things any longer. “I know you just got out of that hellhole, but we were kind of hoping you could help us with something.”

He looked her up and down, and then Killian. “I can see that,” he said gruffly. “I don’t recall the Savior having wings.”

“Uh, yeah, recent addition. What can you tell us about the Author?”

She didn’t think it was possible for the man’s bushy brow to furrow further, but it did. “That blasted fool…this was Isaac’s doing?”

Everyone nodded—and that was a lot of everyones; at some point, more and more townsfolk had converged on the main intersection, and it was apparent that all manner of mythical creature and cryptid were now among its citizens.

The Apprentice looked around at everyone, then tutted. “Shameful, shameful—abusing his powers like that. That’s why I banished him in the first place. Whose brilliant idea was it to free him?”

“Uh, mine,” Regina said, stepping forward (with a scarf wrapped around her face, likely to block the smell of…everyone).

“Yeah, that checks out,” the Apprentice huffed. “Well, on the bright side, he’s probably ran out of power by now. He can no longer do harm, but he also won’t be able to undo what he’s done.”

“Can’t you just give him a magical eraser or something?” Emma wondered. (Regina smirked, even under the scarf.)

The Apprentice chuckled. “No; I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. However, if Isaac has lost his powers, then a new Author needs to be chosen, and I have a feeling we’ll find one here.”

“Where?” Killian practically demanded.

“The Author has to believe in the stories, truly—in their heart,” he said dramatically, placing his hand on his chest.

She and Regina exchanged a look; we know someone who fits that description exactly.

Emma called up to Blue, asking them to find Isaac and bring him there, while she took off in the direction of the loft.

In the time it took her to get her son (and her parents, because they should really be there for whatever was about to happen, too), something resembling chaos broke out in the scene that she had left. An angry mob formed in the crossroad, surrounding Isaac, who lay prone on the pavement, being held down by an irate Regina, baring her fangs.

“You did this to me,” she hissed. “Why shouldn’t I use it against you?”

The man looked terrified; serves him right. The crowd was shouting for him to fix what he’d done (her parents grumbling incoherently in agreement), several voices demanding he undo it.

“I can’t!” he shouted back. “The pen doesn’t work for me anymore!” To underline his point, he tossed the enchanted quill away.

“I warned you not to abuse your power this way,” the Apprentice said, his voice deafening even the most frantic shouts around him. “You deserve everything these people might do to you.”

Isaac glanced at Granny and Ruby, who were snarling at him, and whimpered.

Emma was distracted, though, by Henry. He had something of a faraway look in his eyes, and almost mindlessly passed Neal off to Snow (at least the kid was asleep). His focus narrowed on something ahead of him, on the ground: the pen.

She watched as he carefully moved forward, almost as if he was drawn to it. Emma’s gaze darted briefly, first to Regina, who was also watching; then to the Apprentice, who almost seemed to be smiling where he stood next to Killian.

The crowd also realized what was going on and a hushed silence fell as Henry neared the object.

He knelt in front of it, reached out, and carefully picked it up. It glowed as soon as his fingers touched the enchanted instrument.

“I thought so,” the Apprentice said warmly. Emma couldn’t help but beam with pride and ruffle her feathers; Regina grinned too, not bothering to hide her fangs.

Henry blinked and stood. “Wait, what?”

“You, young sir, are the new Author,” the Apprentice explained, approaching Henry. From thin air, he produced a vial of ink. “And I dare say far more worthy than your predecessor.” He threw a dirty look at Isaac, who was still cowering.

Cautiously, Henry took the ink. “Thanks, but…what does that mean?”

The Apprentice chuckled. “I’ll explain it all; don’t worry. But right now, I believe there’s some unnecessary plot twists that need to be straightened.

“Right!” Henry felt around his pockets for—something, but came up empty. “Crap, I don’t have any paper.”

“Over here!” Belle called out from an open window in the library, her face taking up most of it. “Henry—here!” A few pieces of paper looked no bigger than a Post-it in her fingers as she reached through the window. Henry ran over and grabbed it, but wasn’t sure what to do when he returned.

“I can help you with this first one,” the Apprentice offered. “Start with the ink.”

A few people chuckled as Henry struggled with getting ink from the bottle to the quill tip, Killian included; assholes—ballpoint pens were invented for a reason.

“Now, you’re not supposed to change or influence things, but undoing an abuse of power like this—that’s okay. Try writing…this: ‘those whose physical forms had been affected by the previous author’s changes that night were reverted back to their original forms.’”

“To…their…original…forms,” Henry repeated, writing the words, then ended it with a forceful period. No sooner had the pen left the paper than a burst of magic rippled through the crowd.

Emma curled in on herself as what had been done was undone; she’d been too distracted when Isaac first came after her to really pay attention to the magic happening, but now that it was being reversed—ugh, it’s like my feathers are being plucked. (She wished she’d been standing closer to Killian so she could lean on him, but he’s probably going through something similar.)

Thankfully, it didn’t last long. Once the odd sensation passed, she stood up straight, rolled her shoulders back, and stretched her arms—just arms once more—above her head. “Thank frick,” she sighed.

Behind her, her parents laughed; she turned to see that they were back to normal (and Neal was clamoring for David). All around, everyone was standing and stretching as they shook off the effects of what they’d just been through. Regina was hugging Henry tightly in the middle of it all.

To little surprise, Granny and Ruby were still fierce, and were dragging Isaac in the direction of the cells below the hospital. Well, he’s still gonna be a headache—but one that could wait a day or so.

Across the way, Killian was talking to a normal-sized Belle while standing in a puddle; his skin was back to its normal pallor and the gills were gone. (His beard and chest hair had also returned, thank the gods.)

He caught her gaze and appeared to excuse himself from Belle, then headed her way. “That looks better, Swan.”

“Not literally, thankfully,” she quipped back. “You look much improved yourself,” she added, resting her hands on his chest.

“Certainly feel more like myself,” he answered. “Although—I’m not generally this exposed around so many people.” He was only wearing his usual swimming briefs—and a blush that was creeping up his cheeks.

“Mm, then perhaps we should find somewhere private to be half naked.”

“I like the way you think, love.”

“Too bad I can’t fly us away anymore, though.”

He hummed, then pulled his hand between them, where a white feather was twirling in his fingers. “Maybe you can channel that?”

She giggled, and transported them back to his ship. Placing a kiss against his (scruffy) cheek, she grabbed his hand (finally!) and pulled him toward the stairs. “Let’s get to what we were going to do earlier.”

“Gladly,” he sighed, and followed her to his cabin…

…where they promptly fell asleep. (But got to the fun stuff the next morning.)

Cryptid Night, as it came to be known, went down in Storybrooke legend; and thankfully, no one experienced any long-lasting effects. (Well, other than David complaining about finding fur around the loft for a few weeks after.)

Emma did notice, though, that the pure white feather Killian had picked up was displayed prominently on a shelf in his cabin. As much as she never wished to relive that night, she always smiled when she saw it—and was glad Henry had taken plenty of pictures.

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

thanks for reading! tagging some mermates: @cocohook38 @kat2609 @mryddinwilt @xpumpkindumplingx�� @optomisticgirl @shipsxahoy @clockadile @kmomof4 @initiala @snowbellewells @word-bug @idristardis @wingedlioness @theonceoverthinker @annytecture and I can’t remember who else was into this

#cs ff #cs halloween #mermaid!killian #a tall tail #my ff

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an-evergreen-rose · 2 years

Text

When Worlds Collide Part 5

Kate Bishop x Female Spiderwoman reader (basically has Miles powers; invisibility, electric webs)

Summary: Fury decides your fate

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst I guess

A/N: just to let you know, I have written kates and y/n first kiss, however, I'm gonna need to fill in some gaps timeline-wise before I can give it to you... soz

MASTERLIST

You were currently in his lab as the Fury thought it best that they got to know more about you before they decided on what to do with you. So far Tony had found out your DNA was mutated with a lot of similarities to Peters, and a few extra add ons of course, you were a total of 5 feet and 3 inches tall and you did in fact like cheeseburgers. Maybe that last part was more of Tony's curiosity than Fury's list of questions.

Kate, unfortunately, had to answer Fury's questions also, so while she was sitting in his office, Clint by her side, you were getting stabbed by tiny needles by Tony while Natasha stood guard.

“How’d you get these powers, kid?” Tony asked whilst drawing some of your blood.

“Went somewhere I shouldn’t have,” You answered vaguely, gaining an eye roll from the redhead.

Natasha lent forward in her seat, resting her elbows on the desk she and Tony were sitting on, opposite from your chair. “You’re gonna have to tell us a bit more than that if you want to see your friend again, Y/N.”

You frowned slightly at her tone, only now realising that this questioning may be more of a friendly interrogation, considering you are a high-powered, random person to them who apparently, came out of a giant portal in the sky. The last time they dealt with portals like that, was in 2012 and the aliens were not so friendly so no wonder they were slightly on edge.

“Sorry,” You began, making sure to stay on her good side, not too sure how well it would end for you if you didn’t. “My friends and I were out tagging this new spot in the subway-”

“-What the hell is tagging?” Natasha interrupted, clearly not happy with my story already.

“Um, like spray cans and stuff, we found the spot so we put our artwork up first so other people would know we were there.”

“So… vandalism.”

“You could say that I guess.”

Natasha let out a sigh, “Carry on.” This wasn’t what she wanted to be doing on a Thursday morning.

“So, we tagged the spot, took some pictures-”

This time, it was Tony who interrupted, “Do you have the pictures?”

“They are on my phone, which I don’t bring out when I’m on patrol. Too many cracked screens and not enough money to fix them,” you tried to lighten the mood, not liking the shift in the atmosphere ever since they separated you and Kate.

“So you have no proof?”

“I guess not, no.” God, you desperately wanted to please these people but they were making it so hard to do so.

Tony scribbled something down on a piece of paper, “Carry on.”

“When we were cleaning up our stuff I felt this sting on my hand and I saw this weird-looking spider had bitten me.”

“Weird how? Can you describe it?” Tony asked.

“It kinda glowed an ominous, mutated-looking green colour.” I watched as Tony underlined his scribbles, obviously wanting to know more.

“Then what happened?” he asked.

“I got sick. Fevers, headaches, cramps. They lasted about 3 days, I was basically bedbound and then I just slept for like 2 days straight. My roommate had to wake me up to eat and drink and stuff and then I woke up and I just felt different.”

This time, Natasha asked the question, “different how?”

“Stronger, more aware, and just like I had the power inside me,” I spoke, unconsciously using my hands to elaborate, “Eventually I figured it out, and then my roommate and I decided we could use it to help. We don’t have the avengers where I’m from, so it was kinda up to me to save the city.”

You continued to answer their questions, hoping that if you just complied, you would get to see Kate again. After about an hour, you were finally let out of the room, finding your raven-haired archer sitting on the floor outside Tony’s lab, her back resting against the wall and an incredibly bored look on her face.

“Jeeze, how many questions did you ask her?” Kate huffed whilst standing up.

“Enough to know she's not a threat,” Natasha answered, standing beside you with her arms crossed, her eyebrow raised watching the archer get up. “I’ll go speak to Fury and see what he wants to do, don’t go too far.”

—

“So, Miss Y/N Y/LN, 19 years old, biologically enhanced with spider-like powers along with bio-electricity and invisibility, fell from the sky and landed in our universe,” Fury began, sitting in his chair whilst you and kate sat on the other side, Clint and Natasha stood behind you. “With no way home.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words. In all the chaos that has happened you only now just realised the severity of it all. Everyone you left behind. Everyone you didn’t get to say goodbye to. You don’t know how you got here and you sure as hell have no idea how to get back. Kate noticed your shift in the mood but her chair was too far away for her to lend a comforting hand. Instead, she watched with a heavy heart as your eyes glassed over at Fury’s words.

“Tony has run some tests regarding last night's portal and has surprisingly accepted defeat in his ability to create another one to get you back home… I’m afraid you’re stuck with us.”

“She can stay with me,” Kate began, a hint of eagerness in her voice which didn’t go unnoticed by the red-headed assassin and her friend.

“That's very kind of Miss Bishop, however, I would like to keep a close eye on our new spider-friend, so she will be staying in the compound until I say so. I would like to understand more of her capabilities before I let her roam around the streets of New York with a rookie avenger.”

“But, Natasha said I wasn’t a threat?” You interrupted.

Fury looked at you with his good eye, and you regretted speaking immediately, “I find that actions speak louder than words, Miss Y/LN. Just because you answered some questions does not mean I trust you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.” Even Kate knew not to break the silence that had consumed the room, only Natasha dared to speak up.

“You will start training with Wanda and Peter tomorrow morning,” she began, walking over to Fury’s desk to stand by his chair, directing her words at you. “I will be supervising, and relaying daily reports back to Fury on your progress and abilities.”

“Once we know more about you, perhaps you could make yourself useful and join us?” Fury added, his eyebrows raised with hope.

“And if I don’t?”

Fury let out a small chuckle, “Let's just say the U.S government don’t like enhanced personnel living unsupervised.”

“You’ll be put behind bars, kid,” Clint spoke up from behind you, “If you’re not with us, you’re a potential threat to us. The big boys don’t take threats too lightly, not when it comes to the enhanced.”

You sat silently for a moment, life as an avenger, or life behind bars. Not really much to think about really.

“I guess I’ll join your band then.”

---------

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#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop imagine #marvel x female reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #spiderman #spider girl #kate bishop x spider girl #gxg #wlw

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fan-fantasies · 2 years

Text

Love Notes

Inspired by this post by @loveronlineee

It was such a sweet piece and it reminded me of Breezy and how I’ve always been jealous of her artistic abilities and anyone else who can draw/paint/sculpt/anything art related. Not that writing isn’t art! We paint beautiful pictures in readers’ minds with just words but something about drawing has always captivated me and eluded me. So please enjoy this fic from my very jealous point of view!

Pairing: Eddie x writer!reader

Warnings: jealousy and terrible poetry! I promise I’m a good poet I’m just rusty 😂😂

Why is he so pretty?

Why doesn’t he smile at me like that?

Maybe he would if you actually talked to him.

Yeah that’ll never happen.

Man, do I have to stop talking to myself.

You shook yourself from your thoughts and came back to reality. You tried your best to focus on your poorly drawn sketch in front of you but laughter from the back corner kept stealing your attention.

Eddie and Brianna sat in the back row, chatting and laughing away. You could see her drawing from your seat and you were blown away by her talent. She was an amazing artist and you were secretly envious of her talent. You struggled to draw a simple flower or stick figure, let alone a full portrait of someone.

Your partner was out for the day so you had nothing but time to sit and be jealous. You pulled out your notebook and favorite pen and began to write.

Writing was your choice of artistic medium. Maybe it wasn’t so much a choice as a calling, but you were able to paint colorful pictures with nothing but black and white words. Or at least that’s what your eighth grade English teacher had told you when she boasted to your parents about your latest story at your annual parent teacher meeting.

You began to scribble a few words here and there but before you knew it you were writing with a certain fluffy haired boy in mind.

Meet me at the corner

Of your dreams and mine

We’ll walk hand in hand

With nothing but time

I’ll tell you my worries

You’ll tell me your fears

Your skin will brush mine

Wiping my tears.

And that’s where we’ll part

At the end of the night,

Leaving our story

In darkened starlight

You looked back at Eddie who was studying his portrait with awe. You wished he’d look at you like that.

Maybe he could. Maybe not at you but maybe your writing.

You looked down at your poem and had a gutsy thought.

You excused yourself to the bathroom but made a beeline to the lockers instead. You knew Eddie’s locker, across and three down from your own. You slipped the folded up piece of paper into it before you could change your mind.

You raced back to class, having only a few minutes left before it got out. Eddie and Brianna were still chatting in the back but his eyes flickered to yours for a second when you walked in.

No more than a few minutes later did the bell ring and you bolted from the room again. You threw your books in your locker and waited for Eddie. He sauntered over to his not long after and as soon as he opened it up the paper fell out.

He looked around, confused, before picking it up. His eyes scanned the words and you swore you saw the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.

He folded the paper back up and put it in his jacket pocket, closed his locker and walked away with a big smile on his face. Seeing how happy he was made your heart swell knowing that you were the cause- even if he didn’t.

The next note was delivered a week later. A sweet little poem about luscious hair and passion-filled eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at the blush that crept onto his face when he read it.

Your little surprises continued on for the next few weeks and you decided to leave the notes in his locker after school, worried he might catch you one day out of class. You left them on days you knew he had his Hellfire Club meetings, hoping he’d check his locker at the end, taking home your sweet musings.

Eddie did happen to check after a meeting one night, the little note falling out. His heart began to race which was a common occurrence whenever he read the poems.

He thought they were incredibly sweet and couldn’t believe someone thought that way about it. Which is why, at first, he thought it was some sort of prank. After a few more notes, however, he figured no one would draw out a joke for so long.

He had tried waiting by his locker after school, but you always waited longer. You had a part time job in the library after school so you were there later than everyone else anyway.

Your poems were Eddie’s little escape from the normal bullshit of Hawkins High. One day during lunch, he and Jason got into a pretty bad fight, nasty insults being thrown both ways. You knew that Eddie only acted tough but enough torture would break anyone down eventually. Your poem was a little sad that day, but you hoped he would still appreciate it.

And appreciate it, he did. He read it over and over again before holding it tightly to his chest.

How could I not admire you?

From the confidence that drips like venom from your lips

to the fearless attitude that you convey.

I know the exterior has hardened from time- a carefree boy that’s been hidden away.

And your boisterous voice is not chance, but a choice

To show people around you that you’re not afraid

Just know that we’re all trying to figure it out-

How to get out of this sad world unscathed.

You are not alone.

He almost started to tear up when he read it, feeling vulnerable that someone could see through his tough exterior.

The next day in English, everyone had to read their short story in front of the class. Public speaking was never your strong suit but you tried your best to just focus on the story in front of you. Your hands were shaking and it was hard to take a deep breath. You looked up and saw that no one was really paying attention which helped ease your nerves. Even Eddie, in the back row of course, was doodling in his notebook.

You began your story about a young woman, a fallen Angel, hellbent on revenge. She was a badass, confident warrior- very much your opposite.

A few people began to really listen, enthralled by your words. Eddie was half listening, too busy with his new hellfire logo design.

“-and the words dripped from her lips like venom, poisoning the hearts of those around her-“

Eddie’s head shot up. Did you just say almost the exact same thing that was in the poem? Maybe it was a coincidence? Probably not, who else would write something like that?

He listened closer to your words, noticing a certain similarity to the rhythm and style in which you wrote. His heart began to beat faster and his palms got sweaty.

You finished your story and nervously looked up at the room, fidgeting in front of everyone’s stare. They began lightly clapping at the instruction of your teacher. Eddie clapped the loudest which made you look back at him. His eyes didn’t break from your gaze which made your stomach do a flip.

Eddie continued to stare at the back of your head for the rest of the class. Afterward, he rushed to lunch so he could talk to his friends.

“Guys, I think I figured out who’s been leaving me notes,” he said as soon as he sat down. Everyone stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He tried to nonchalantly look over at you and motioned with a slight nod of his head. Everyone turned at once, making him roll his eyes.

“(y/n)? The crazy amazing writer that’s won like every writing contest there ever was? She’s leaving you love notes?” Mike asked.

“You know her?” Eddie asked, almost sounding desperate.

“Uh, kinda? She helps Nancy out with the paper every once in a while. She even had dinner at our house once,” he remembered.

“She’s super nice,” Gareth added.

“How do you know her?” Eddie questioned.

“She was my partner on a history project once. She did most of the work thankfully. That’s probably the only time I got an A in history,” he chuckled.

“Am I the only person who doesn’t know her?” Eddie sighed.

“And yet, you’re the only one she’s leaving love notes for,” Dustin purred.

“Well we don’t know that. She could be leaving them for twenty different guys- you know- casting a wide net,” Lucas said. Everyone glared at him.

“Thanks, buddy, that really helps,” Eddie mumbled.

Eddie looked over at you and admired you. How had he not noticed you before? Especially since you seemed to have noticed him quite a bit. He wanted to get to know you, but first, he had to make sure it was actually you leaving the poems.

“Would you guys be okay with switching the meeting to Thursday night instead of Tuesday next week?” He asked.

“I guess?”

“Why?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Please tell me you’re not gonna stalk that poor girl,” Dustin sighed. Eddie smirked at his friends and clapped his hands together.

“Guys, I’m gonna get me a girlfriend. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“If you say so.”

Everyone went back to their lunch and talking about their next campaign. Eddie could hardly focus; he was too excited for the upcoming week.

You finished cleaning up the library and, like every other Tuesday night, you went to put a poem in Eddie’s locker. You slipped it in easily enough and headed down the hall toward the parking lot. You rounded the corner and crashed into a somebody. Your scream of surprise quickly turned into an awkward spilling of apologies.

You finally looked to see who it was, your heart nearly stopping when you saw Eddie’s smirking face looking back at you. He was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking as calm as ever.

“Hey, (y/n),” he said with a smile.

“H-hi, Eddie,” you squeaked. You tried to move around him but he stepped in front of you.

“You’re here late.”

“Um, yeah, I work in the library after school,” you said. “I should be getting home.”

You hadn’t planned on running into Eddie and you very much wanted the interaction to end. You weren’t prepared for this to happen and you didn’t know what to say. He would probably figure out that you were the ones leaving notes if he went to go check his locker. He would be smart enough to put the pieces together.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart? We never get the chance to talk.”

“We do get the chance, we just never do,” you shrugged.

“And why is that? Because words would drip like venom from your lips?” He asked. Eddie chewed on his nails nervously, hoping you’d catch on.

“M-my story? You liked it?” You hoped that’s all he was talking about.

“Your story was amazing, don’t get me wrong, but I’m more of a poetry guy myself,” he spoke, slowly taking a step toward you.

“I-is that so?”

“Yeah! In fact, I’ve recently found my new favorite.” He took another step toward you and was pleased when you didn’t move away. “Were you ever gonna tell me it was you?”

You contemplated lying, but it seems that he already figured it out. You cursed yourself for using the exact same line from the story in your poem.

“Probably not,” you said honestly. He frowned a little bit.

“Why not? Do you not want to talk to me? Because I can go and we can forget this ever happened.” Maybe he misjudged the situation. Maybe it was a joke or maybe you left secret notes so no one would know you liked the freak. You could see the doubt creeping onto his face and it broke your heart.

“No, I do want to talk to you! I just…I don’t really know how. And I figured you didn’t want to talk to me so…I just wrote instead,” you mumbled.

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you? You seem pretty damn amazing,” he laughed softly.

“I’m not amazing. I’m not a crazy talented artist or some hot cheerleader. I’m just me.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s kinda what I like about you. You’re not a fake asshole like almost everyone else here. You just keep to yourself and do your own thing,” he said.

He grabbed your hand and tugged to get you to look at him. Your eyes had fallen to your shoes, hating when you’d let your insecurities show.

“Can I take you on a date?” He asked. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’d really like that Eddie,” you finally smiled. A wide grin broke out on his face.

“On one condition though.” You smile faltered and you raised your eyebrow. “You have to keep writing me poems.”

“I think I can do that,” you laughed. Eddie leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. He intertwined his fingers with yours and led you from the school, walking you to your car with the promise of picking you up for your date on Friday night.

Maybe being a writer isn’t so bad after all.

———————————

Taglist: @mellomadness @thebookbakery @dootys @munsaniac @tiredwritersworld @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @rafecameronswhore

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fluff #stranger things

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