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upon-a-starry-night · 15 days

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Love Favors The Misfortunate

Natasha Romanoff x Gender-Neutral Reader

Natasha Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Minor Violence

Summary: Misfortune always seems to follow you no matter what you do. But where there’s trouble, Nat often follows, maybe love was on your side after all?

Disclaimer: This was part of a writing exercise I did so it’s kind of silly and unedited but enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow you always managed to wind up in the worst situations that Earth could possibly experience. You wondered if you were just cursed or something considering last week you were present for not one but two bank robberies.

Maybe that was just the life of a delivery driver?

You hoped the lady behind the bank counters Caesar salad tasted better after death threats and salty tears of desperation.

This time, however, in the middle of checking the GPS during a stoplight, the sound of screams alerts you to the number of people ditching their cars and running past your motorcycle in fear.

Looking up you see the giant rip in Earth's atmosphere, monster-looking creatures spilling out of the hole.

Oh, Good.

You immediately kick your motorcycle into gear, walking the bike through the crowds of people until you can manage to make a U-turn and speed off, weaving your way through the panic.

You spare a few glances into your mirrors as more flying monsters spill out of the sky and it's during one of these glances that you fail to notice the giant alien who has just landed in the street a few feet ahead of you. By the time you notice him you only have enough time to attempt a full stop which results in your bike sliding from under you and skidding across the pavement. Ouch.

Much to your luck, however, the bike collides directly with the monster and sends it straight into its own spear. A weird purple liquid oozing slowly from underneath the unconscious body.

You frown, it was going to cost a pretty penny to get your bike fixed if it was even salvageable and now you definitely weren’t getting paid for the hamburger and fries that were probably still warm in your delivery bag.

Maybe you could see if french fries taste better after near-death and motorcycle debt.

Wincing, you feel your arms already bruising and your jeans have ripped through to your thigh, you're not bleeding as much as you probably should be from that slide but it still hurts like hell. Thank god you were wearing all your safety equipment.

A hand is extended out to you and you graciously take it, looking up to meet eyes with the prettiest redhead you’ve ever seen. She’s giving you an impressed smile and you feel like you could melt right then and there. Although that might also be from the burning pain in your leg.

You probably need to find a hospital. Or maybe you were dead and this was an angel.

You always figured they’d look like the horrendous abomination of eyes and wings that they were described as, not as pretty redheads with striking green eyes but you weren’t complaining.

“That was a good move” There are still people running past you screaming but it feels like time stops when she speaks to you.

“Yep. that was definitely something I did on purpose” Drumming your fingers on your thighs you watch her chuckle and give you a look that tells you she knows you did not, in fact, do that on purpose.

You glance between your bike and the woman in front of you, screaming civilians making the moment almost comical. You felt like you were in some kind of rom-com apocalypse.

Despite it being the last thing you should probably do, you extend your hand out to her and tell her your name. She gives you a very amused look and you shrug your shoulders as if to say ‘Why not? We’re here aren’t we?’

She chuckles again as she takes your hand, introducing herself.

Natasha. Derived from the Russian name Anastasia, which means resurrection. Maybe she was an angel. Damn.

Natasha nods her head in the direction of the crowd and smirks “Shouldn’t you be joining them?” You shrug. “Unless you know more moves like that?” She gestures toward your beat-up bike and you shake your head

“No. Unfortunately, I haven't mastered the art of more than one motorcycle trick yet” Not that you could get that thing to start back up again after that anyway.

She shakes her head with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at the mess the city is becoming before turning back to you. “ Well I guess until you learn you should probably get running”

You nod, a little dejected, your calmness in relativity to the situation was likely the result of a concussion but you weren’t worried. Unless Nat was not real, in that case, you should be worried. Very Worried.

“Will we meet again?” it’s cliche and you immediately feel like a protagonist in a Disney movie but it’s a genuine question.

She smirks and looks around at the city again, gesturing to the absolute clusterfuck that New York had become “For your sake, I hope we don't”

You know she doesn’t mean anything bad by it and it’s your turn to smirk when you say “Knowing my luck, we will” You hope she finds herself near a few banks in the upcoming months…

She smiles at you and nods her head in the direction of the crowd and you understand what she’s trying to tell you. With one final wave and a small “good luck” you run in the direction of your fellow New Yorkers, occasionally glancing back to see her running in the direction of the main battle.

You didn't know who she was but Damn did you want to.

~~~

The next time you find yourself in a particularly unfavorable situation is not for months later. Minus that one time you witnessed two old ladies get mugged and that time you almost got hit by an ice-cream truck. But you got free ice cream from the second one so you weren't counting it.

You’d taken up a job in a small pizza place to pay for your bike repairs. It didn’t pay much but you didn’t have that many options after New York got attacked by aliens and half the businesses were destroyed or temporarily shut down. This is one of the few places still open which means on Friday nights you were busy as hell.

It was not a Friday night. It was a Tuesday afternoon and your coworker who was supposed to be on shift with you called out sick which meant you were manning the shop by yourself. Your stupid coworker was probably just off cheating on his girlfriend again but you didn’t care because the shop was empty which meant you could play games on your phone without his judgmental stare.

You’re struggling through level 5 of Candy Crush when the sound of breaking glass comes from the front of the shop and you sigh. You would be surprised but it was New York, more specifically it was your life in New York.

What you are surprised by, however, is the sight of familiar red hair covered in glass in the entryway, and you really want to rub your eyes with the squeaking sound effect like in the cartoons but the amount of microfibers that just got released into the air would suggest not doing that.

“Well well well” You realize you sound more like a supervillain than you intended and you freeze when she stands and sharply turns in your direction, gun pointed directly at you. You throw your hands up in surrender immediately. Goddamn supervillain catchphrases always making pretty girls turn their guns on you.

When she seems to recognize you she relaxes only for a man to jump through the already broken glass window and tackle her to the ground again. You want to help but considering you still haven't learned any more motorcycle tricks(or any tricks in general) you figure you would probably be useless.

You watch helplessly as she disarms and renders the guy unconscious in a matter of seconds and then stands and dusts herself off. The guy on the ground looks like some old-timey variation of Hitler and you're pretty glad she knocked him unconscious before he could even notice you.

You focus back on Nat who's looking at you like a wounded animal that could run away at any moment and It’s then that you realize that most people are not quite used to these kinds of situations. Clearly, you weren’t like most people. You point to the body in a trenchcoat on the ground as you crinkle your nose

“Are you taking that guy with you when you leave?” She huffs out a laugh and you feel yourself smile at successfully getting her to laugh again.

You, one.

Hitlerman, zero.

At least you were winning one game. Stupid Candy Crush.

She looks around the shabby pizza place and then zones in on your nametag, only them seeming to realize you worked there. She tilts her head, nodding to your flimsy little name pinned to your T-shirt.

“Why are you working here? Where’s the bike?” You sigh, you knew the question was coming but it’s still a sore subject for you. You internally punch a wall but on the outside, you frown just a little. It’s the saddest expression Nat’s seen on your face so far.

“She’s in the shop. Repairs are taking longer than I thought and now I’m forced to conform to my least favorite type of work just to get her back” Nat gives an understanding nod and then cringes a little, walking towards you until she’s right in front of you. She places a hand on your head and you inhale sharply.

A small frown forms on Nat’s face “You’re bleeding”

The feeling of her hand on your face confirms that she’s not an angel or a figment of your imagination and you don’t realize you’ve voiced that thought out loud until you hear Nat barking out a laugh.

“I’m flattered but, well-” She glances up, then behind her, then back towards you “I wouldn’t be so sure just yet” She smirks and removes her hand just as a ceiling panel falls from the roof. Dust flies into the air and you cover your face to avoid getting more shit in your eyes.

When the room finally settles Natasha is nowhere in sight but there’s a Captain America band-aid on the serving counter and you feel a small smile across your face. What a dramatic exit. Now who was the supervillain?

You take great notice of the fact that Hitlerman is also gone and you wonder how the fuck she managed to do that. But more importantly, you hoped this wasn’t coming out of your paycheck.

~~~

You can’t emphasize enough to most people how much you’re not even trying to be in the situations you get caught in. In fact, the one time you stayed home for a week you ended up catching the Flu. How the hell do you catch the flu from staying home? After that, you just accepted that you were a magnet for misfortune and there was nothing you could do about it.

Although, after meeting Nat you found yourself a little excited anytime something misfortunate happened and that was probably psychotic and you should definitely check yourself into a psych ward but you’d probably end up choking on a crayon and getting deemed a risk to those around you so what was the use?

Still, of all the robberies you’d been a witness to you’d never been a part of a hostage situation. Until now. Stupid Banks!

Usually, you’d assume that the police would handle a situation like this and you’d be stuck in this bank for hours until someone grew a dick and negotiated something but this time circumstances were a little different. To start, the guy who was currently robbing the bank was holding some type of gun that was the equivalent of real-life freeze tag.

Anyone who got zapped by the oddly blue glowing gun was frozen in place, which led you to problem number two.

The police had shown up nearly half an hour ago and someone must not have briefed them on this wacko holding you hostage because the second one of them snuck in the back door with a gun he was frozen in place looking like the idiot that he probably was.

You would attempt to grab his gun but you didn’t feel like doing that shit. Who were you to risk your life and try to be a hero for some money that this poor fellow probably needed considering New York's rent cost.

Maybe if the stupid fucker hadn’t frozen the one lady who knew the code to the very comically large bank safe he wouldn’t be stuck making stupid negotiations and holding people hostage.

Instead, you settled against a wall near a bunch of crying civilians and attempted once again to beat level 10 of Candy Crush. You give up after ten minutes and delete the app. Really you were just trying to kill the time until you-know-who showed up.

She and her band of merry men had grown a reputation for taking care of situations that the regular authorities couldn’t and that’s why you weren’t the least bit surprised when the room began to fill with a cloudy white smoke.

Others began panicking, fearing that it was some sort of poisonous gas and you rolled your eyes. This was not poisonous gas, you’d seen poisonous gas and this was not it.

This was a very dramatic entrance formulated by your absolute favorite redhead. God, you felt like you were in a spy movie. Any second now you’d see a faint figure slowly descending from the ceiling in all black with a gas mask on and spy music would start playing.

Any second now.

Aaaaaany second now-

A scream from beside you makes you jolt and you find the sobbing woman next to you with a hand over her mouth. A gruff-looking man is telling her to keep quiet and your eyes widen for a second as you think ‘Oh shit. Double robbery.’ But from behind the gruff-looking man walks a familiar figure and she pats him on the shoulder as she passes him.

You squint your eyes, what an oddly metal-looking shoulder. Perhaps you were hallucinating. Stress and all that.

By this point, enough white smoke has filled the room that the bank robber is wildly swinging around in fear as he squints to see. He’s probably more on edge after that woman's scream as well. Yeeeeah more of a horror movie than a spy movie now.

The reason you can see everyone so well is due to your superior eyesight and definitely not the science lab goggles that you had in your bag for no suspicious reasons. Hey, you had to be prepared for literally anything considering your luck.

Nat’s wearing some kind of night vision-looking goggles and a mask and when she passes you you poke her leg. She jumps a little, glaring at you until she seems to recognize you despite your flawless Lab Scientist disguise and her eyes widen. Her eyes seem to scream ‘What are you doing here’ but you feel it’s too obvious of a question to bother answering.

Instead, you give her the biggest smile you can muster and a friendly wave, mouthing “Hiiii Nat!”

She rolls her eyes but you can see the smile she’s hiding under her mask and you mentally fist pump. Three for three.

You point to the man wielding the gun and mouth to her “Go! Team go!”

She shakes her head, exasperated by your lack of fear and self-preservation but holds her finger up to her mouth telling you to be silent as she turns to sneak up on the man.

Your body does so love disobeying orders though, so it chooses that moment to sneeze, which has the man pointing the gun in your direction (not that he can see as his eyes are practically watering now) and Nat turns to you with a glare.

You raise your hands up in surrender and in an attempt to help, you throw the nearest object on the floor across the room. Oh, that was your phone- well, okay. Either way, it helps, the man swings back in that direction, blasting his gun in the air and Nat takes the moment to attack him from behind.

She disarms him easily, taking him to the ground and placing him in handcuffs. She inspects the device carefully, flipping a switch and aiming it at the closest frozen person. With a bolt of light, they unfreeze and gasp for breath. Good, at least the idiot had created some sort of Ctrl-Shift Undo button.

You're part of the first few escorted out of the building considering you weren’t frozen or in hysterics and the paramedics look at you a little funny but wrap a shock blanket around your shoulders.

Yes, shock. That's what you were experiencing. Normal people things. You twist back and forth and watch the shock blanket sway as you wait for Nat to be done with her serious business. God, serious business was boring and took forever.

When she finally emerges from the building she ignores the press and police that come up to talk to her and heads straight for you. Ha! Eat shit losers.

She doesn’t bother with formalities, why would she? It's you. Instead, she hands you a small black box as she takes in the shock blanket you’ve tied around your neck to look like a cape.

“Here’s your phone” You take the object from her hands and inspect it.

Oh wow, No cracks, that's great. Wait- “This is not my phone” You turn it over and inspect the Stark logo on the back of it. Yeeeeah definitely not yours.

“No, it’s not” She doesn't bother lying to you at least, and you hum in acknowledgment. Well, you weren’t one to pass up a free upgrade. You pocket the phone and stick your hands in your front pockets, flashing her a smile

“So… you come around here often?” She rolls her eyes at your stupid attempt at a joke. Or flirting. Either one works.

“How do you keep ending up in these situations?”

It’s your turn to smirk “Maybe it’s just an excuse to see you?”

She gives you a look that says ‘It better not be’ and you just shrug, your shock blanket falling to the ground. Fucker. Making you look uncool. You refuse to bend down and pick it up. Recovery blankets were for losers anyway.

Still, she smiles at you anyway and crosses her arms “I’m beginning to think the only way to keep you safe is to keep you with me”

Your heart leaps but you pretend to be nonchalant. You're only blushing because of shock or whatever. Play it cool “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea” A stupid smile forces its way onto your face despite your best attempts to repress it and Nat laughs at your stubbornness.

“But first I think we’ve got to teach you some self-defense” She nods her head indicating for you to follow her and you both begin walking in step to an unmarked black car.

Kidnapper car.

Cameras are flashing around you and you think about how cool you’ll look with Lab goggles atop your head and white smoke in your hair on the news tomorrow morning. The media was going to love you.

Turning to Nat on your way to the car, you have a question that’s been itching at you that you feel the need to ask

“Do you think your sugar daddy can help me fix my bike?”

She punches you in the arm.

A/n: This was initially a writing exercise to write the silliest short story I could think of, but I thought it was cute so I decided to post it~ Starry

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randomperson3736 · 25 days

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I don't know why I bite

Paring(s): Bruce wayne x son! Reader, batboys x brother! Reader, justice league x male! Reader

Warning(s): mentions of blood, murder,child abuse, child testing, needles, trauma, knife's,katanas, crying

Genre: angst,sad, fluff at the end

Summary: people always believed that you were a violent person who bites at any second but deep down you were just an broken boy.

Word bank: M/N- male name

Ever since you were younger, you were taught to believe that you were nothing more than an experiment, an play thing.... a weapon. Your real father believed in nothing but cruelty and power and without those two things you were an weakly who should be cast aside to be forgotten.

When you turned 5, you started your training. Day by day, night by night you did nothing but train. No time for sleep, food, water, playing with other children your age. Not one thing an normal 5 year old should be doing. And if you did get caught doing anything but your training.... it wasn't an very beautiful and painless sight to see or hear.

Once you got to the age of 7, you were already a trained killer. Skills of any weapon, combat and the soul of a heartless monster. Your body and heart were built or more trained so you would never feel pain or react to it. If you were shot? No reaction. You were stabbed? No reaction. It was as if you were a robot. A shell of someone who had no heart or a soul.

By 10 you had already killed over a thousand people. Women, children, men, older people. Your hands were already stained with so much blood at an age no one would think would be capable of doing so. And no matter how many times you washed your hands even enough for them to be red raw or bleed.... you would always feel the dripping pain of their blood. Your father made you do it and God help if you refused.

He had an game were he would drag you to an chair, strap you down with chains and inject an liquid which made you feel the worst pain to ever exist. It was like your skin was burning off from your bones on the inside of your body. Every organ in your body exposing. It was like death itself. He would do it every day until you obeyed his cruel, Sinful wishes.

Eventually, you were some how saved by the justice league at 17. They had found out about what your father was doing to you and to others and put an stop to it. Though, you didn't go so willingly as they had hoped. You may have given them a few broken bones, added some more new scars to their bodies before Bruce sedated you. You were placed in an clear cell in the justice league HC, watched 24/7 day and night. You tried for weeks on end to break the cell but nothing you did made even a scratch nor a dent.

Bruce tried to get through to you and help clear your mind of your father's cruel training he had drilled into your mind for years. But nothing he said or did changed your mind or behaviour. It almost go to the point where you tried to break your own arm to escape from the cell. Bruce and the other league members all felt pain and anger at the fact someone would do this to someone so young. How could someone be so twisted in the head to actually do this to an child? The thought was in their heads ever since they saved you.

But after 8 long months Bruce finally made an breakthrough with you. It was small, yes, but it was something. It meant you were moving past your fathers training and becoming your own person. After that, you started to show some improvement where you could be trusted to be let out of your cell and talk to other outside of the justice league. The first being the batboys- Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian.

Surprisingly,you actully got along with Damian the most since you both had similar childhoods and shared similar interests. Jason and Tim helped you understand the modern world and how it worked. While Dick alway tried to make you laugh or smile though it never worked since you never felt joy or love before. Your face was always blank and emotionless. But the boys and the league never gave up hope that some day you would be able to smile brightly.

Over time, Bruce officially adopted you and you moved into the Manor with everyone else. It was strange at first for you to have your own room and have the choice to pick whatever you wanted. You never had that before so you didn't know how to act towards it. Bruce and the boys noticed after a few days of you living in the Manor that you still had some walls up and were worried you would lose all of your progress.

They would usually find you in the batcave trianing non-stop, even when your knuckles were bleeding from hitting the punching bag so hard to the point that it would break. You never felt the pain nor noticed the blood until Dick or Alfred mentioned something and helped bandage your wounds. This was all strange to you. It wasn't right for you. It was weird. You were trained to think that pain was nothing. That blood was nothing.

Now, you were sitting at the dinning table with everyone staring at you with worried gazes. You had bandages all around your body from your overstepping training, you held dark bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep you had gotten and you were starting to push away from them all. Bruce soon cleared his throat as he looked at you from his sit at the table. "M/N.... we need to talk about your.... behaviour and how you've been acting the past few weeks.... it's worrying us all..."

Dick was tge next to speak. "You've been training more harder lastly to the point your covered in cuts and bruises.... you barely sleep anymore or talk to us.... you're pushing us away." Dick's voice broke slightly as he was holding back his emotions. You clenched his jaw as he avoided everyone's eyes. "I'm.... fine...." he grumbled out almost in an annoyed tone.

Jason clenched his fists, his anger and worry was raising high as he heard you speak. "You're not fine, damn it!" He yelled out. "You're hurting yourself more and more! It's worrying us to death!" Jason breathed heavily as Tim patted his shoulder gently as a way to tell him to calm down. "Your not that person anymore M/N..... your away from that man.... your safe here with us." Tim's words were soft yet since filled with worry.

It was almost like everyone's words made something snap inside you and caused you to slam your fists down on the table in anger. "Shut up! Just shut up all of you!" You growled out as you glared at them with cold eyes. "I know what I'm doing! I've been doing it my whole life! It's nothing new to me!" Your emotions were getting the best of you now. "I was trained to be an weapon. It's programmed into me. I can't just get rid of it so easily! I was made this way!"

Tears pooled in your eyes for the first time and it shocked everyone. "I have killed countless people because of my father and I have to deal with that on my own..... I was made to do unspeakable things because of that bastard and I have to live with it all." Everyone looked at you with sad eyes as they listened to your words. "People thought of me as some heartless monster who was some lap dog for my father.... they believe I liked to fight and kill but it's just not true.... sometimes I'll lose my temper and blow off a little steam by training but I've never enjoyed it...." Tears flowed down your cheeks as your voice broke, "I'm not a violent person.... I don't know why I bite....."

In an heartbeat, Bruce pulled you into his chest holding you close as you sobbed out all the emotions you have been hiding for years on end. "Shhhh..... you're okay..... it's not your fault M/N...." Bruce rubbed your back in hoped to comfort you. "That man was a sick person who believed in nothing but cruelty and pain..... but your not that person..... you're a kind, sweet boy who is learning to overcome his past and become an better person for himself." He pulled you face from his chest so he could look you in the eyes. "You are loved here M/N.... you are my son and I won't ever let anything like that happen to you again I swear it..." he smiled warmly at you, hoping you'll calm down and understand his words.

You looked at Bruce as more tears formed in your eyes, but they weren't anger or sad tears like before.... they were happy ones as you smiled small at Bruce in returned which made tears form in his own eyes as well. You hugged him tighter as your head laid on his chest. "Thank you...... dad...." you muttered out causing his heart to melt slightly. You were finally letting your walls down and showing some type of emotion. Everyone was proud of you in that moment as they soon moved forward into a group hug.

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rebelfell · 6 months

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The Third Date

Eddie Munson x Anorgasmic!Reader

When you move back to Hawkins after graduating college, you find yourself reconnecting with an old friend in a new way. Your first two dates with Eddie Munson are everything you’d ever dreamed, but the next one has you unraveling.

Part One. Part Two.

cw: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, fem!reader, deceased parent, mentions of poor sexual experiences, some drinking, sexual anxiety, making out, fingering, panic attack, eddie being sweet and reassuring, fluffy ending.

I was kinda in my feelings and needed Eddie to tell me all the right things. Sue me. 18+, MDNI 7k

You used to like this mirror.

It was vintage. Full length with an ornate gold frame, swirling embellishments on the top and sides. Not to mention it was a fucking steal at $10 from an estate sale. You’d liked it enough to make it one of the scant number of things you hauled all the way back to Hawkins when you moved out of your shoebox apartment in the city.

Right now, though? You kind of hated it.

Usually, standing before it made you feel stately and elegant, even if all you had on was ratty denim shorts and a threadbare t-shirt riddled with holes and bleach stains. Yet here you were in one of your favorite outfits, hair meticulously styled, face glowing and dewy after spending an hour on it, and all you felt was ridiculous.

Not the mirror’s fault, technically. But it was the messenger. It told you at every twist of your hips, at every outfit change, at every pluck and tug of your clothes, that you were never going to look right—that you were never going to feel right. And it mocked your every failed attempt to do so.

You inhale, breath shallow and shaky as you try yet again to calm down. It’s just a date, you remind yourself. It’s just a date and he’s just a guy. There’s nothing to be worried about.

Except it wasn’t just a date. It was the auspicious Third Date.

And it certainly wasn’t just a guy…it was Eddie.

This was something you’d been waiting for forever. For longer than forever. For longer than you could count. Eddie Munson was your oldest and dearest friend. Growing up, you were like each other’s second heads—facing the worst of what small minds in a small town in Indiana cooked up. You stood, middle fingers brandished like swords, dreaming of a wider world.

It felt strange to think this would only be your third date when you’d basically been dating since you were thirteen. You went to movies together, wasted weekday afternoons at the record store, lounged on the gravelly bank of Lover’s Lake reading well-worn paperbacks—Two Towers for him, Dorothy Parker for you. He begged you to sit in on Hellfire when he started the club your junior year and only had three members, himself included. He’d sneak you into the dive bar where his band played Tuesday nights, and you would immediately stick out among the five drunks who assembled every week. But as long as all you ordered was ginger ale and swore up and down you weren’t a cop, the bartender let you sit there all night to watch him.

Nights never ended the way “real” dates did. No hands being held as he walked you from his van to your doorstep; no kisses under flickering porch lights scored by a cricket symphony.

He never touched you too much, always quick to withdraw his hands when they lingered on your hip or back or arm. That would change, though, if he smoked or drank a bit and his cuddly side came out. Secretly, you longed for these times. You reveled in having his chin rest on your shoulder or his arms wind around your waist to hold you close. It never felt gross or crossed the line into groping like with other, lesser, guys looking for something to fondle. With Eddie, it felt more like he was showing you how he wished he could be all the time.

At least that’s what you let yourself imagine.

He always apologized the following day, just short of castrating himself over it. It made you want to slap him. Slap him and then kiss him and slap him again. How could he not get it? How could he not see how goddamn in love with him you were? How could he not feel the same way? You waved him off, assuring him he hadn’t done anything wrong. All the while thinking, you fucking idiot, and not even knowing if you were referring to him or yourself.

Then came graduation. Or rather, your graduation and his sullen admission he wasn't eligible, which lead to the longest, most difficult conversation of your lives so far. It wasn’t even a conversation so much as it was you swinging wildly between reactions—scolding him for not telling you sooner; grasping at the straws of extra credit assignments your teachers would never assign; volunteering to stand guard while he broke into the administration office.

Eventually, though, you had to face the reality of losing him and it left a prominent break in your heart. Your acceptance letter to a school in Indianapolis that used to make you feel weightless, like you could finally fly out of here, now felt more like chains dragging you away.

You had half a mind to take him with you. You must have rehearsed the speech you wanted to make something like fifty times. Screw Hawkins, you’d say. Screw their closed minds and their disdain for anything even a little different. He could get his GED—you’d help him, happily. He could find work in the city and take community college classes or go to trade school. The two of you could live together and watch slasher movies every Friday night, falling asleep on his chest when you got tired just as you’d done all throughout high-school.

Of course those thoughts inevitably spiraled into what would happen once he started dating. A bigger city meant a bigger pool of people, all with the potential to realize the kind, sweet, caring boy who was bursting with passion for his fantasy games and music and his other rich interests was actually a massive catch and not a social pariah. In no time, it would be someone else falling asleep on his chest and you watching them be carried to his bed.

You couldn’t bear the thought of that. Maybe even moreso, you couldn't bear the thought of asking him to come with you and him saying “no.”

So, you went alone. You packed up your car with the barest necessities, you kissed your dad goodbye and said you’d see him at Christmas. But it was Eddie who saw you off, taking you into his arms and holding you there with your head tucked under his chin. You buried your face in his chest, tears leaking onto the patches you’d helped him sew on his denim vest. He told you how proud he was and how much he was gonna miss you. He said to write. To send pictures.

All you could do was sniffle.

At college, you tried expanding your horizons. You joined a couple clubs to make new friends and started going to parties. You met people like Carl. And even though he was handsome and seemed nice enough, you turned him down when he asked you to dinner. It wasn’t until much later, when your roommate scolded you for doing so, that you even felt some doubt about it. What was even the point when you knew he wasn’t what you wanted?

Except what you wanted might never be yours.

That first trip home to Hawkins was wildly unnerving. You knew it hadn’t actually been that long since you left. But why did it feel so strange that everything felt exactly the same? Had you really changed so much already that your home no longer felt like home?

Even seeing Eddie again felt like rupturing old wounds you thought had successfully scabbed over. You withdrew from him without even realizing you were doing it. He knew something was wrong, but didn’t dare voice it. His greatest fear loomed: you were done with Hawkins.

Done with him.

It took a while to strike the balance between the old and the new. You’d run away so fast and tried to overwrite everything in your life, returning to Hawkins felt like entering a fantasy world. And Eddie became like an apparition, a specter of everything you missed most.

You started writing to him more, sharing stories about your classes, gossip in the dorms, drunk adventures in the city. And he wrote back, telling you all about the new members of Hellfire who also happened to play instruments and were eager to replace the members of Corroded Coffin who had graduated and moved away. Eventually, the letters became more like a diary.

You could confess things you’d never imagined telling anyone—stuff about your mom and how you’d spent every day wondering if she’d be proud of you; how you worried about your dad and wondered if he would ever get over her; how you feared you might never find love like theirs and even if you did, how it might be taken away from you like it was from them.

And he confessed back to you. Amidst his ideas for new D&D campaigns and song lyrics, he gave you deeper insight on things you knew already—his father’s sordid criminal history and his mother’s inability to cope, which led to her dropping Eddie on his uncle’s doorstep at the ripe old age of eleven. Reading about Hawkins through his eyes made it feel more real and less like a dream you’d woken up from. It kept that connection open, a bridge between your worlds, so you could experience college and all the new things it had to offer, but still felt connected.

Then the end of your sophomore year brought more bad news.

Again, he wasn’t eligible. Again, he wasn’t graduating.

You’d not been able to let go of that fantasy of him joining you at school. Every time you walked across the quad, leaves crunching beneath your boots, sunlight dying as it dipped behind the old brick buildings and cast everything in a hazy golden autumn glow, you imagined a pair of clean, white sneakers next to yours and a ringed hand squeezing your fingers.

He promised you this was his year. Swore it, in fact. ‘86, baby! he’d scrawled big and messy under his signature at the end of one of his letters. And maybe it would. He said he was doing better—army crawling his way towards a D in Mrs. O'Donnell's class, already planning how he would snatch his diploma and flip the bird at the principal as he walked the stage.

He was certain enough it made you start to believe it too.

You never dared to broach the subject of what he wanted to do after graduation. He hadn’t mentioned applying to any colleges or looking for work. The rest of the band was graduating with him. Maybe they’d all move here to get more exposure. Maybe they wanted to record a demo they could pass out to record companies. Or maybe Eddie wanted to go solo.

The lack of information made you antsy. Was he being decidedly cagey about his plans? Was he hiding something? Or was he just afraid of disappointing you again?

It was nearing the end of the school year when you finally broke. You had to see him.

For once, your spring breaks were going to overlap. You blew off your classes on Friday to make the drive and managed to get to Hawkins High just as the final bell was ringing. His van still sat in the parking lot and you pulled in alongside it to wait, practically jumping out of your skin with excitement. Thirty whole minutes crawled by before you finally spotted him.

He emerged from the woods at the back of the practice sport fields, chattering with ease to maybe the last person on earth you would have expected to see.

Chrissy Cunningham was just as pretty as she’d always been. She was a couple years behind you and Eddie in school, but everyone knew of her from the moment she made the varsity cheer squad as a freshman—a staggering feat no one else had ever managed. She still had the same bouncy ponytail, the same enormous eyes and cherubic cheeks you imagined must ache at the end of each day from her constant smiling. And she was somehow smiling even wider than normal at whatever Eddie was saying as he grinned back at her.

It made your stomach churn thinking what they could have been doing to have her smiling like that. You knew he’d started dealing for Reefer Rick to earn extra money, but in what universe would the queen of Hawkins High be struck with the urge to buy a bag of skunky weed?

Unless it wasn’t weed she was after at all.

Panic doused your body. You jammed your key back in the ignition and sped out of the lot, praying he didn’t see you. You drove straight back to school, tears streaming down your face for the entire journey, making you hate yourself more with every salty trail that stained your cheeks. Because what else did you expect? For him to pine for you like you did for him? For him to be like you and not date anyone, ever? To keep everyone who even attempted to get close at a distance? Reserving a space in your heart for someone who might not even want to fill it?

You loved him more now than you ever had. Even without seeing him every day, even without having him constantly at your side. If anything, it had gotten worse. Your feelings piled up within you just as his letters did in your room. They all lived in a box under your shitty dorm bed to be pulled out over and over and over so you could parse every line for hidden meaning. Crying at his words, so heartfelt and honest you didn’t even notice the grammatical and spelling errors.

By the time you got back to campus, you felt raw and spent. Your face was streaked with tears and you were breathless from crying. For days, you walked around campus like a ghost until you bumped into Carl, the only other soul not off on some debaucherous Spring Break trip. And when he asked you for seemingly the hundredth time if he could buy you dinner…you said yes.

It came in the mail a few months later. Your address scribbled messily on an invitation to the Hawkins High Class of 1986 graduation. Eddie had included a photocopy of his final grades and written “proof it’s not a clerical error” with a little smiley face in the corner.

You called him that night to tell him how proud of him you were. And you were proud of him. So unbelievably proud. But when he asked if you were coming, you lied. You said your boyfriend’s parents would be in town and that he wanted you to meet them. You told him how sorry you were, all the while thinking Chrissy could congratulate him enough for the both of you.

And in spite of yourself…you let yourself pretend you heard a little dejection in his voice when you used the word “boyfriend”—fictitious as it was.

The truth was, you’d only been officially dating Carl for a couple weeks. And he was perfectly nice. He’d kissed you and it felt fine. It didn’t quite live up to what you believed it should feel like, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe what you imagined wasn’t realistic. Maybe what you thought it should be wasn’t feasible.

Maybe you just had to let that go.

And dating Carl was simple and uncomplicated. It served a purpose. It made you feel at least like you weren’t languishing in a wasteland of your unrequited feelings. It made you feel like you were trying. Sure, the sex wasn’t great. But you hardly expected it to be good for you.

You’d hooked up with the odd guy here and there over the years. It was a pattern that began with some guy you met downtown whose assignment was to keep you occupied while his friend put the moves on your roommate. You were a little drunk and a lot lonely, so you’d gone along with it. It was quick. A little uncomfortable. It certainly didn’t make you eager to repeat the experience. But at least you could say you’d done it.

Part of you thought maybe it would get better, but it never did.

Even guys you thought were decent at first were quick to gloss over the preamble and lead up, jumping straight to stuffing themselves inside you with no regard to your winces of discomfort. It didn’t take long before you started to assume you had to be the problem. Even by yourself, it took you ages to reach any sort of precipice. And even when you did, even when you felt your heart rate rising and your body heaving in response, the pay-off was…underwhelming.

With Carl, you thought it could be different. Maybe you needed a deeper connection; maybe you needed a few times to get comfortable with someone to properly ascend that peak. But the more you did it with him, the less attainable that seemed. Maybe you were just broken.

You also tried not to dwell on the fact that the only times you ever got close were when you pictured a different face hovering over yours; when you imagined your fingers twisted up in dark, shaggy curls; when you visualized pale skin littered with tattoos and sinewy arms caging you in; when you lit that one candle you only bought because it reminded you of Eddie’s cologne.

The decision to move back home turned out to be less a decision and more a necessity.

A whole year out of school and you’d had truly terrible luck finding a job—at least a decent one that actually wanted to pay you. Carl, ever the charmer, wondered why you even wanted to work when you’d just wind up quitting when you got married. Really, you appreciated it. It was exactly the kind of comment you needed to jolt you out of a relationship that had been on autopilot.

You were a mess. Lost. Aimless. Barely treading water. Wishing you could call the one person you knew would cheer you up, but unsure if it would only result in more heartache. In the blink of an eye, it had been over five years since you left home and it was starting to feel like your only accomplishments were breaking up with your boyfriend and buying a mirror.

Then came the call from your dad.

He’d taken a nasty fall at his hardware store. He was fine, for the most part. But he was now significantly weaker and would have to have surgery as well as physical therapy after. And he certainly couldn’t run his store anymore. It had never run particularly smoothly to begin with and his books left something to be desired—another thing you’d be helping with once you moved back. He never outright asked you to do so, but he also didn’t have to.

The only good news was the bad news: a massive fire that disintegrated Starcourt Mall had led to an influx of renovations to the downtown area. In the wake of the mall’s destruction came a resurgence in small businesses that breathed life back into the desolation the mall caused.

It was in this newly resurrected downtown where Eddie was making his mark. He had opened a hobby shop where he still hosted his weekly D&D games with a lot of the kids who had originally been in his club. His store became like a beacon for all the kids (and even some of the adults) in Hawkins who felt there was no place for them. Eddie gave them somewhere to belong and celebrated all the things that made them targets of ridicule to everyone else.

It was also your first stop on your first day back.

The whole shop was so Eddie. As you walked inside and took in the decor, it seemed entirely possible he had just moved everything from his bedroom at Wayne’s right in here. He’d even rigged the entrance with a speaker that played the guitar riff of “Enter Sandman” when someone came through the door.

You wished you could bottle the moment he came out front, your arrival signaled by the song.

“Holy shit…”

The box of miniatures and figurines he’d just finished pricing in the back fell to the floor with a thump and a rattle of plastic parts. He barely registered it, though. With round, unblinking eyes he stared, too stunned to move a muscle until a smile cracked his face wide open.

In just three long strides he crossed the store and swept you into his arms, lifting you up and whirling you around. “You’re here!” he gushed, arms crushing you around the middle in the most exquisite pain. “You’re really here!”

“I told you I was moving back!”

You laughed heartily in his ear as he placed you back on the ground, telling yourself it must have been the unexpected lift making you breathless and not how the sunlight coming through the windows hit his eyes and made them shine like molten honey. He kept you close, letting his hands rest on your arms and squeezing them like he had to be sure you weren’t a mirage.

“I thought it was one of those ‘too good to be true’ things,” he said sheepishly, a pink blush creeping across his cheeks. “Had to see it to believe it.”

“Well, believe it,” you sighed.

You were already prepared for the loss of his touch, for when he would shamefully retract his hands, but he never did. He held you comfortably, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin. He let you go reluctantly, not regretfully, letting his fingertips trail softly down your arm.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, his voice coated in warmth. “I missed you so much.”

You nodded, your throat pinched as you tried not to cry. “I…I missed you too.”

Eddie’s smile grew even bigger, his eyes seeming to dance with excitement. “Well, we have to celebrate,” he said. “I close up shop at six. Meet me back here and we’ll go to the Hideout?”

You stalled, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you considered. Almost on instinct, you’d nearly agreed right away. Old habits and what not. But did you want to fall immediately back into your old patterns? Hawkins had changed so little since you left, it felt too easy to slip back into the trap. Could you really go right back to hopelessly pining for him as you’d done so long?

“Come on,” Eddie urged, flashing those doe eyes he knew you couldn’t resist. “It’s one drink.”

“Okay, okay!” you laughed. “One drink.”

One drink turned out to be three. Starting with your first legal drink together at his old haunt while a different band of hopeful kids fumbled their way through clumsy Metallica covers.

“Please tell me we were never that young,” Eddie sighed, taking a swig of his beer.

“You’ve never been young,” you teased. “You came out of the womb a crotchety old man.”

A little later, you absconded to the corner booth and tucked yourselves away from the rowdiness of the growing crowd. You were flushed from the alcohol buzzing in your bloodstream and from how close Eddie was sitting. It felt just like old times, except it was nothing like old times.

Because this time, he was flirting with you. And not being subtle.

You thought maybe you were imagining it at first, but it only became more obvious the longer the night wore on. There was a whole new confidence and intention in the way he talked to you. He’d never been shy, never had any trouble drawing people in, but there was a fire lit behind his eyes tonight you’d never seen before. And you were the sole object of that blaze.

“So…still with Carl?” He finally asked, after bolstering himself to do so for the last three hours.

You took a long sip of your drink, eyes never leaving his over the rim of your glass. The liquor made you bold, the burn at the back of your throat adding smokiness to your voice.

“No-pe,” you said, popping your lips on the final syllable. Eddie smiled wolfishly and leaned in.

“Good,” he purred. “Cos that would have made it real awkward when I asked you out.”

He took you to dinner two days later. Rang the doorbell and smiled at you as he stood on your porch wearing a black button down under a darker black velvet vest. His black jeans were a new- looking pair of the same kind he’d always worn, sans the ragged holes over his knees.

Despite the thin material of your sundress and the balmy weather outside, you were sweating with nerves. The breeze played with your skirt as he walked you to his van and the coolness of it on your clammy skin made you shiver. But when Eddie suddenly darted ahead of you to open your door and turned around with his hand held up to help you inside, it made you melt.

The gesture filled your body with warmth, chasing away any hint of a chill.

After dinner, he suggested you walk a block or so to a bar where Eddie liked to play pool. And as you did, his hand reached for yours and he threaded your fingers together. You stared down at it, stunned. How many times had you wished he would do that? How many times did you imagine the heat of his palm against yours mixing with the coolness of his chunky silver rings on his fingers? It had always seemed so impossible and he’d just done it.

Like it was nothing. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. Easy. Natural.

He held your hand all the way into the bar, only letting go of you to accept a tray of balls from the bartender when Eddie requested a table. With a couple of beers in hand, you followed him to his favorite one that was tucked away in a little alcove, practically private.

You set down the beers and watched as he racked the balls, gaze lingering on his long frame and chuckling at the way he shimmied his hips as he leaned over the table to break. “Eyes on me,” he told you, playful smile revealing his teeth.

It was a redundant request, because it was entirely impossible to look anywhere else.

Eddie had filled out quite a bit since high-school. He was never an athlete by any means, but evidently a regime of guitar playing and dice throwing was enough to maintain decent tone. You stared at him unabashed as he walked around the table, lining up his shot. His vest now flapped open and he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal the familiar smattering of bats under his elbow and the puppetmaster etched inside his forearm. It made you wonder how many more tattoos—new ones you’d not yet seen—were hiding under the rest of his clothes. He smirked at you, smug as he leaned over the table, thoroughly enjoying the way your eyes followed him.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” he drawled before sinking a bank shot.

You rolled your eyes, trying to fein being unimpressed. “Trying to distract me, Munson?” you asked, chalking the tip of your cue in a much more sensual manner than necessary, letting your fingers lazily stroke the stick as Eddie watched transfixed. He huffed a laugh at the display.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Evidently, both of you were equally distracted. Most of your games lagged for a mutual inability to sink more than one shot in a row as the other did their best to pull focus. It was far easier for you, having only to lean forward slightly across the table from him to reveal a healthy dose of your cleavage. That, coupled with a coy smile and batting eyelashes, spelled disaster for Eddie. Everytime you did it, he’d scratch his shot and chuckle dryly at his own hubris.

He took a different approach, choosing instead to stand as close to you as he could as you lined up your shots. His musk and cologne filled your nose, a tantalizing woodsy smell that made your head spin as you struggled to keep your eyes on the ball. He rested his hip against the table, handcuff belt buckle glinting as it reflected the light from the lamp hanging overhead.

You could practically hear the childish taunt of not touching you, not touching you.

“Just take your shot, baby,” he cooed, low and husky. The sound made your heart hammer.

A couple hours of teasing and toying later, both of you were ready to explode. Your glasses sat empty on the nearby table, neither of you terribly interested in a refill. And as Eddie sunk the eight ball again, his eyes flashed to the tray for the balls rather than going to re-rack them.

“I guess I should get you home?” he asked.

A little sullen at the idea, you nodded and returned your cues to a rack on the wall while Eddie brought the balls back to the bartender and settled the tab. Only when you were walking back to the table to get your purse and passed a pair of men who reeked of tobacco did something occur to you: Eddie hadn’t taken a smoke break once.

“Did you quit?” you asked, staring at him with wide eyes. He smiled as he drew nearer to you, relishing the way your chest heaved as you reacted to his closeness.

“Took a couple years, but yeah,” he said. “Sometimes I still need a little help, though.”

He tugged his shirttail out from the waistband of his jeans, causing his belt and the chain on his wallet to jingle slightly as he lifted his shirt to flash a strip of his stomach. You’re so distracted by the action and the cut of his v-muscle it takes a few seconds to register the beige nicotine patch stuck on his hip. You stared at him and then back at it, fingers itching to reach out and touch.

He leaned in, his face the closest it had been to yours all night, his voice hushed so only you could hear. “For when I’m really nervous,” he said.

Streetlights and stars blurred as you stepped out of the bar and he whirled you into the alley. The rough brick scraped your back and snagged on your dress as you were flattened against it and you gazed up at Eddie, string lights overhead shining brightly in your eyes.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly. “Are you ready for this to start?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight his eyes trained on your face. Your hands settled lightly on his waist and you gave an impatient tug as you nodded. It was all the invitation he needed.

His mouth met yours like the sun met the horizon. The softest kiss you’d ever had deepened gradually until you were grasping at him, fisting his shirt in your fingers. Your lips felt molded together, pliant to the other’s movements, but still insistent as they chased one another.

Control shifted subtly between you, taking turns drawing the other in and pulling back. More teasing, more toying. Yet you never denied each other long, unable to stay apart.

God, this was it. This was what it was always supposed to feel like.

It could have been hours you stood out there kissing and laughing, but you’d never have known. The only thing that alerted you to the passing of time was when the lights inside the bar shut off and the employees filed out for their final smoke break before heading home.

Giggling like terrible criminals begging to be caught, you and Eddie hugged the shadows and made your way back to his van. You rode home with your panties soaked, subtly shifting in your seat, trying not to think about the arousal pooled between your thighs. And at home, back in your room, you were so tempted to dip your fingers into the slickness as you thought about Eddie’s breath on your lips; how the ends of his curls tickled your sternum when he leaned into you; the way his scent lingered on your skin after being pressed between his body and that wall.

But you didn’t dare risk the disappointment that would follow when your pleasure receded like waves being drawn into a riptide; when you backed down from the edge of that cliff, feeling even emptier after not reaching that peak. Again. No, you couldn’t spoil this night with all that.

You saw him more throughout the week. He started popping into your father’s store almost as soon as it opened, offering you coffee and a kiss. And he spent the first hour of the morning with you at the front counter, propped up on his elbow with his chin resting on the heel of his hand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked, swatting him with a folded up newspaper after you finished doing the jumble together.

He just shrugged with all the casual ease of somebody whose own shop didn’t open until 11. Or noon if he was hungover. “What could be better than hanging out with my favorite girl?”

Favorite girl. The words lived in your brain all day. It made you positively giddy every time you thought about it, even causing you to accidentally enter a customer’s 15% discount as 51% and not even bother correcting it. The loss on a value pack of paint brushes and trays seemed a paltry fee for the smile that spread across old Mrs. Gershwin’s face when she saw her total.

Eddie started calling every night at 9:30, practically on the dot, and it didn’t take long for you to get in the habit of settling into your bed around that time so you could pick up the receiver in your room before the ringing disturbed your dad dozing in his recliner downstairs.

“So when do I get to take you out again?” he asked, clearly not oblivious to how it made you melt on the other end of the line.

You blushed your way through making arrangements for an early movie Saturday followed by dinner. Then, before beginning the long process of saying your goodnights, you paused to ask him the thing you’d been wondering since that night at the Hideout.

“Eddie…are we really doing this?” you asked, torn between giddiness and trepidation.

“I certainly am,” he hummed into the receiver.

He talked the whole way through the movie and still had more to say at dinner afterward.

It didn’t bother you, though. You loved listening to him talk. Your ears had gone so long without his rambling, it was more like music than words. His feet toyed with yours under the table and after you ordered dessert, he excused himself to use the bathroom only to slide into your side of the booth when he came back. You giggled over tiramisu and cheesecake, your sides pressed together from shoulder to ankle. Later, the tastes of your desserts would mix in your mouths as he kissed you deeply in his car dropping you off.

Everything about it felt so alive. So ripe with the promise of what this could turn into, what it had already become. In two dates with Eddie, you felt more connection than you had in two years of dating Carl. Not that it was fair comparing them. Nothing and no one could ever compare to this.

It was a Wednesday when he made a new proposition. You had already crawled into bed and swathed yourself in blankets to wait for his call. And after the few customary minutes of talking about your respective days, he brought up his idea for Friday night.

“Would you want to come over here for dinner?” he asked.

“You…you mean like your place?”

“I was thinking mine, but if your heart is set on a neighbor’s, I’m sure breaking in wouldn’t be too difficult.” He’s smirking so hard you swear you can hear it over the phone.

“I guess yours will do,” you chuckled. “Does this mean I’ll get to see The Hair in person?”

Eddie was living with Steve Harrington, which had taken a commanding lead for being the most confusing thing you’d learned since returning home. Apparently they’d been brought together by a shared friendship with Dustin Henderson, one of the kids from Hellfire Eddie had taken under his batwing during his third and final senior year. Dustin had spent months insisting both boys would get along if they only gave the other a chance until his badgering paid off.

Now, the pair shared a tiny apartment downtown, walking distance from Eddie’s shop and only a short drive to Family Video where Steve was now the manager. And Dustin evidently couldn’t go five minutes without congratulating himself for bringing the two of them together. Eddie liked to joke that they were now co-parenting the little shithead (affectionate).

“Actually, Steve is out of town this weekend,” Eddie said, struggling to contain his excitement and keep his cool. “So, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Breathe, breathe, breathe. “Oh, yeah?” you said, voice spiking just an octave too high.

“Yep. And, um…you could stay over if you wanted? If that sounds good to you?”

Stay over. You knew what that meant. There was something gut wrenchingly endearing about the way he asked—the innocent peal of his voice. But there was no doubt in your mind what he was getting at. This wasn’t going to be like crashing on his couch after a movie night or pouring yourself into his bed after a Corroded Coffin show that lasted to the wee hours.

This would be something new. Something completely different.

“That sounds great,” you said, finally.

And it did sound great. It just also sounded a little terrifying.

Admittedly, you hadn’t been on many dates in your life. But television and film had successfully indoctrinated you with knowledge of that classic Third Date milestone. And it made sense. He wasn’t some stranger. You’d known each other for so long, it stood to reason things would continue to accelerate between you. And was that such a bad thing?

This was Eddie, after all. He was your best friend. He was your other half. You weren’t sure if you even believed in soul mates, so to speak, but if they did exist you couldn’t imagine anyone besides him in that role. He had stoked life into the coals within you that you were certain had burnt into a lump of ash. You never felt with anyone the way you felt with him.

So if you were gonna do this, you were gonna do it right.

You went shopping, fighting off anxious nausea as you perused the racks of lingerie in the far corner of a little boutique. Averting your eyes from the more salacious options, you settled on a matching set of midnight blue embroidered with silver thread to look like stars. It was made of thin mesh that gave the illusion of coverage, but revealed plenty through the sheer netting.

It also looked a little like something a wizard might wear. And for obvious reasons, you had a feeling Eddie might like that.

Securing your purchase you thought might make you feel more prepared, but it only caused your thoughts to unravel further. This was the first time Eddie would be seeing your underwear and it wasn’t even your own. At least it didn’t yet feel like your own the way your drawer full of less suggestive garments did. What if he thought you looked ridiculous? What if he laughed or got turned off because your thighs were too big or the pudge of your stomach grossed him out? Worse yet, what if you failed to live up to the implications? What if he saw it and assumed you knew what you were doing, only to be woefully disappointed by your skills? Or lack thereof?

It was impossible to reconcile the two wolves fighting for dominance in your mind. On the one hand, it was wildly exciting: the thought of finally getting to be with him and touch him and have him touch you back. At the same time, though, you were overwhelmed at the prospect. What if it changed things between you? You’d always thought you wanted more than friendship with him, but what if in that pursuit you lost the person you treasured more than anything in the world?

And then of course there were the normal fears.

After so much unfulfilling sex, you couldn’t help but be fearful your body would betray you as it always had. It was hard not to pin all your hopes on this and you didn’t want to add any more pressure to this night than you already felt. But even if you backed off that peak and failed to reach the summit, surely the ascent would feel just as nice as long as it was with him.

Right?

This was what you tried to tell yourself as you turned one last time in front of your mirror.

Literally everything about this night was making you uncomfortable and it hadn’t even begun yet. The lingerie that felt fine when you bought it was tight and itchy on your skin, and it felt glaringly obvious you were wearing it under your clothes—like a diaper or a straightjacket.

You’d shaved, even though it made you feel like a creepy bald Barbie, and even though you found the concept kind of disturbing. Whose brilliant idea was it anyway that to be sexy you had to look like a child between your legs? And you always wound up completely bare because you could never get it even and kept having to take more from each side until nothing was left.

Still, you did it. Because that was what everyone did, right? That’s what he would expect?

Shaking your head, trying to fling away all your thoughts, you busy yourself packing your small overnight bag. It was the same one you must have brought over to Eddie’s a hundred times over, but for the first time you found yourself doubting it. Would he think you were high maintenance for wanting your own toothbrush and a change of clothes? For bringing something comfortable to sleep in? Would he think you were a weirdo for not just sleeping naked? God, what if he saw it and figured you’d been sleeping with so many guys, you just kept it packed all the time?

Panic creeps up the back of your neck. It burns hot on your cheeks and makes your heart pound in your temples until you’re so dizzy you have to lean against the door with your head bent.

Breathe, you think. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Frustratingly slowly, the thrumming in your chest subsides. You managed to bring yourself down off the ledge and find your center—Eddie.

Eddie would make everything alright.

He always did.

Part Two

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #tw: anorgasmia

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nakedbibi333 · 1 year

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https://www.tumblr.com/nakedbibi333/714154377701687297/i-have-alot-of-desires-at-once-intelligence

How?

I’ve gotten so many questions like this.

How do I fulfill my desire?

Trust me, whatever you’re thinking is overcomplicating it. I truly believe that everything I had learned before a month ago had been overcomplicating the law.

However, to understand this, I first need to answer the other question I’ve frequently gotten: how can I identify with my inner man?

Once again, I’m going to tell you that you’re overcomplicating it.

What do you feel when you close your eyes and forget the world around you? It’s a feeling, right? There’s no body, no physical sensations inside there, but somehow you feel that you’re still here, you’re still you, despite not having the outer physical characteristics of you. That little voice inside your head is your inner man. Your inner man is not separate from you. You don’t need a ritual or time or anything complicated to reach him, because he’s always with you. (Please note that despite using he/him pronouns I am using it in the general sense and I do not mean that everyone has a little MAN inside them, it’s the inner you, the inner self—which is the self that you must change in order to manifest all your desires.)

Self is simply what you do and have in your inner world

So, how do you identify with your inner self? You simply allow what you do, have, and experience internally to have more weight than the outer world. I can already hear you asking me once again, how do I do that? But the answer is so simple. Practice.

You have to practice believing that the outer world is a reflection of your inner world. And how do you do this? You test the law. Think about it, you imagine worst case scenarios all the time. You imagine arguments, you expect to fail, and you constantly keep yourself in a loop of negativity and pessimism. So, flip that. Just catch yourself when you’re immediately going to the worst and just do the opposite. But don’t do it to make something happen, because then you’re focused on the outer world and the outer man. All your fears show you what the inner man truly desires. If you’re fearing being unsafe, then your inner man desires safety. If you’re fearing rejection, then your inner man desires to be wanted. Use those feelings to recognize what your inner man desires and then give it to them.

How do you give it to them? Well, now we’re back to the main topic: you fulfill those desires internally.

The only thing you need to do to manifest anything you want is to change self. Once again, self is what you have, do, and experience internally. Not in the outer world. You can’t change your face by applying makeup to a mirror. You must reach the source, the self. The inner man.

You want more money? Imagine that your bank is full. See the numbers rising and feel that it’s truly happening. Remember that you do not need to visualize to get to the feeling of the wish fulfilled. You can hear your friends telling you how much you’ve changed. You can imagine how your new car feels under your touch. You don’t need to see in your mind to feel. Repeat that and persist but only to fulfill the inner man. Continue persisting until your inner self is satisfied. Your goal is not to make anything happen in the outer world. You should not care at all about what’s happening in the outer world. Why? Because that’s not your job. Your job is to change self. And remember, the law is that self must be reflected upon the outer world. When you change self, truly believing and feeling that you have what you have desired, then it must be reflected. You don’t have to be consistently thinking and worried about the outer world changing because that is not your job. Change self and it will all be taken care of for you.

That is truly all it takes to manifest all your desires. Never worry if it’ll happen, when it’ll happen, or if it’s possible. If you can imagine it, then it already exists. And if it already exists, since it is you that is experiencing your desire, then you can reach it. Every version of yourself is yours for the taking, no permission or “worthiness” needed. Stop asking if you can or should do something. If you desire it, fulfill it.

All of this is based on Edward Art’s main series on Reddit. So, if you’d like to know more, go read it.

#manifestation #law of assumption #neville goddard #loa #loassumption #ask #nakedbibi333 posts

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ghostlytide · 16 days

Text

For Business Only | One

I hope you like it ^^

Vincent Renzi x Fem! Reader----1.6K

MASTERLIST -> Next

Synopsis:

After the whirlwind affair Vincent and you shared years ago, he was sure his goodbye was definitive. A fleeting memory filled with both regret and a peculiar ache that he can’t quite place. But life wishes to scorn him once again when his newest case obliges him to seek out your help. Though this case isn’t the only complicated thing in this strictly professional relationship—not with the way his heart seems to jump at your proximity, or the already familiar tune of your voice. For all the things that had changed, would this mean your story could have a different ending now?

General Tags: Second Chance/Exes to Lovers; Slow Burn; |They were Coworkers; Denial of Feelings; Pining & Longing; Idiots in Love; Eventual Friends (?) with Benefits (?); English isn't my first language so watch out for typos;

It was a late spring night when Vincent said his goodbye to you, so it was only fair that your reencounter would occur in another.

Life played both hommage and karma at him, remembering his words: You may forever hate me, but I promise you that you'll never see me ever again. I've bothered you enough.

That night, he had regained the common sense that had slipped out his grasp since you entered the law firm as an intern; eager to learn from whoever would spare you a glance for something more than to request their thousandth cup of coffee.

Of course, he did.

And how could he not to? When you were so bright and cheerful, all the opposite from those seniors who had seen the worst, to experience who knows how many times the balanced and blind justice's weight to tip at the wrong side. To have to face the client's hopeless expression.

Of course, you'd probably be sheltered from such a dark world at your station once you reached juniorship. But that wasn't the point right now.

Just as it wasn't the point to reminisce. He felt as ashamed as it could be possible while climbing the stairs of the skyscraper, which on the inside was decorated with pieces of steel, glass, and contemporary art that combined perfectly against the simple columns and the frescoes painted in the dome of the main hall.

Vincent shouldn't be overwhelmed by the sight, but he'd never been inside the Building of the Société Générale, white marble walls against a dark mosaic creating a cube to showcase the colorful paintings hung on the walls.

The secretary at the front desk showed him the way to the elevator behind the reception, polished black walls against the metal door as Vincent felt a pull in the pit of his stomach—either for the sudden upward movement or for nervousness, he didn't wish to dwell much on it.

Walking much faster than he wanted to, the secretary passed through an empty, quiet hallway in which Vincent could read a myriad of plaques varying from Accounting Department, all the way to Human Resources.

Finally, she stopped at a door labeled as Banking Associate: Cultural Department. Calling your name, she said: "Monsieur Favrè has sent his lawyer impromptu to meet you."

A muffled voice—your muffled voice echoed in the still hallway, stirring old memories inside of him he wasn't aware of keeping in the first place. "Alright. Let him come in."

A simple nod and the woman was gone. It was only the two of you now.

He took his time, a skipping beat. At the same time, you finished writing away at your keyboard. Then the door was closed with a gentle click.

"Monsieur Delaroux, what can I do for y—" A tentative pause, your bright, smart eyes locked into his. "Vincent?"

This hadn't been the deal planned out in his mind; he was almost hoping you'd ask, with a puzzled voice, who he was as if memory could morph at will rather than being one's source of torture.

So many years passed since he heard his name coming out of your soft lips, that if he remembered quite well, would taste like mocca and vanilla. But why was he remembering that now, from all times?

"Hello," he said, an awkward smile shining in the well-lit office. He put one of his hands inside the pocket of his dress pants, suppressing the childish urge to wave.

You blinked. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I know this isn't what we agreed on," he started, using small steps to get closer to the desk, as if you were a deer likely to run off, or a lion ready to pounce. Vincent had no idea which of the two could be worse. "But I need your assistance for a case. You're the most capable person I can think of, so I had to come and ask for your help."

Reclining from your seat, he let the words simmer into you, using the little time he had to look around your office, part of him was curious to see if he could still recognize a glimpse of the old you, and what he could learn from the present.

"How did you find me?" you asked, hands gesturing from him to sit in front of your desk.

"There are not many art lawyers with your name," he said, slightly flustered he had to admit about searching your name among colleagues, prying into your life when his promise was all the contrary. It wasn't the first time he felt like a fool, yet prideful because he was here for work.

And solely for work.

"I have a case linked with a small private art collection." His voice was plain, devoid of any emotion. He wasn't Vincent right now, the man that tried not to break your heart but failed terribly; he was Maître Renzi one of the talented lawyers from the before small law firm that now was rising like smoke after every case taken. "A murder. Probably linked to the growing art stock. I need an expert in the subject to conduct the required procedures."

"Since when do you take cases about private art collectors?" you hummed, eyes almost twinkling with amusement from all those times he had shit on the upper class and their slippery ways around the judicial system.

It was a good sign that you weren't bringing up his words last spoken, the past that at this moment felt too much aflush despite the time trying to bury it.

"This one is an exception." He couldn't help but get defensive, feeling like a stupid teenage boy being teased despite you being quite some years younger than him. "The owner of the law firm assigned me this case directly. We need to win so the firm can have an expansion." Which meant more law specialties, and more hired lawyers. And then it was… "They're even considering putting an Art Law department."

You could join, he almost said foolishly. Why would you like to be coworkers with him again, when that exact professional relationship prompted all the rest?

You seemed to be thinking the same. "It'll pay well," he added before you could say anything that derailed from his sketched conversation. "And it can help with your curriculum." Vincent signaled to the plaque in front of your computer, reading Junior Consultant. "It could be the case that turns you into a Senior."

There it was the ghost of you, biting your bottom lip in a pondering manner while your gaze was glued to the empty seat next to him.

"What makes you think you're going to win?"

"Have some faith in me, will you?" He chuckled, though deep inside he knew what you meant. It was a question that always lingered at the bottom of his mind, the one that stole his sleep some nights.

"Vincent—"

"Trust me. This is a high-profile case, very important for all people involved. I need your help. I know you're the only person that can help me." He couldn't make another empty promise. To never see you again? Vincent just broke it, and the opposite of that, to be partnered with you as colleagues didn't sound appropriate either. "You're the only one I can trust to remain on my side even if everything goes to shit," Vincent muttered after a while, blue eyes searching for yours as he tried to convince you with pity, even. Because you could never say no to him, and because this case was obliged to use all the desperate, creative measures he could think of.

Though Vincent wasn't lying about said statement. And you knew it.

You looked at him in a long, silent gaze that felt strangely, annoyingly charged inside the medium-sized office, silent so thick he heard the moment you chortled, a breathy, contained laugh that blessed him with the tiniest of smiles.

"Send me the generalities of the case so I can give it a glance tomorrow and write the protocol to follow."

"If tomorrow is one of your free days, we can discuss it over lunch," Vincent found himself saying before his brain could tell him to do better. "I'll give you a printed copy of everything so you can revise it easier. I apologize, but due to the nature of this case, I don't find myself comfortable with sharing this information via remote."

You put away the pencil you were playing with, settling it against the wooden desk with a thunk. "Breakfast. Tomorrow at 9 AM meet me at the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice. We can go to a nearby café once there." Looking from your computer to him, you arched an eyebrow. "Something else you need? You should go before the receptionist notices that you aren't Monsieur Favrè's lawyer."

He shrugged. "I showed her my card, she didn't say anything."

"Well, I'm not allowed to take private clients while on my shift."

"I'm not a client, we're colleagues."

You gestured away. "Wording. You know what I mean."

"You're a lawyer, Mademoiselle, wording matters."

"I write contracts and track art exhibits, Vincent," you told him in a familiar tone he recognized from when you two engaged in a well-needed, unwinding banter. "The one asked to give speeches is you, not me."

"Well, then you better prepare for an exception, because you will have to declare at court about your findings." Vincent heard your sigh and took in the sight of your angry pout, one you dedicated at him when it was time to get out of his office and help other junior lawyers while on your time as an intern. He was surprised to find it as charming as it once was. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He stood up, torn between walking facing you or just striding toward the door. He did the last one, turning to smile at you while his hand tapped to feel the door's handle.

It was his time to call your name. "Thank you. Truly."

You nodded, one of the locks of your hair falling toward your brow, obscuring your view. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vincent."

#vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi #vincent renzi fanfiction #anatomy of a fall fanfiction #swann arlaud x reader

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mikavlcs · 11 months

Text

Start a Fire

Pairing: Gwen Stacy x gn!reader

Summary: Gwen saves you and you help her out in return.

Warnings: nothing besides some probable medical inaccuracies and my writing lmao (no atsv spoilers btw)

Word count: 2k

Notes: idk why everything i write is kinda unserious. this also may not entirely make sense, sorry about that...

Masterlist

Firsts were a special thing.

Everyone, for better or worse, remembered things like their first kiss, and their first date, and their first heartbreak. Because of the novelty of these events, their importance is inescapable, even to the most unsentimental of people.

This same principle applied to superhero activities—or, at least, it did for Gwen.

She would never forget her first high-speed car chase, or her first armed bank robbery, or her first (incredibly embarrassing) criminal interrogation. So, of course, she was excited when her police radio picked up reports of a burning apartment building over on the west side.

Okay, maybe excited wasn’t the right word since people were in danger and Gwen would never be excited about that, but she was looking forward to checking off another box on the list of ‘classic crime tropes’ she kept in her journal. Burning buildings were a staple in superhero comics, and after nearly nine months on the job, it was about time for her to experience it firsthand.

She zipped in and, after a quick chat with the outside firefighters, began extracting civies from the upper floors while they covered the lower floors. Thankfully, the fire wasn’t terrible. They caught it pretty early and since the apartment building was three blocks away from a fire station, there were firefighters on the scene within ten minutes.

Since the fire started on the first floor, the worst of it was easily at the bottom floors, which the firefighters elected to cover since Gwen had more verticality and speed, but there was still smoke. A lot of it.

Now, Gwen knew a lot about fire safety thanks to her elementary school’s yearly presentations on the subject, but by the ten-minute mark, she was beginning to see that she had vastly underestimated the effects of smoke inhalation.

She didn’t have the respirators that they wore, her only protection against the smoke was the cloth of her mask. And at first, that was enough, but it was starting to get to her now. Luckily, she only had one more person to grab—someone on the top floor, frantically waving out one of the windows.

Hastily, Gwen crawled up toward the window you were leaning out of. The smoke was much thinner up here since the fire was only just spreading a few floors down, and she was very grateful for that. She crept to the side of the window, offering a grin you couldn’t see and a wave.

“Hey!” she greeted, securing an arm around your waist. “Hold on tight. This will be quick, just, uh, close your eyes if you’re afraid of heights.”

Once your arms were looped behind her neck, she webbed a nearby building and swung toward a nearby alley.

She deposited you down first, making sure you were steady on your feet before releasing the web and stumbling toward the nearest wall. A series of hacking coughs forced themselves from her throat, making her lean most of her weight against the wall.

“You okay, Spider-Woman?” The question came from her left and she looked over to see you resting against the same wall as her, staring with a mixture of confusion and concern. Gwen flashed a shaky thumbs-up in an attempt to both placate you and preserve her image.

“Perfectly fine. This is actually my first burning building rescue, so this—” She cut herself off with a particularly painful wheeze then finished with, “This is actually a pretty big moment for me.”

“Uh-huh, well maybe you should sit down for a minute,” you suggested, but her mind was already on her next destination, wherever that may be.

She shook her head at the idea, fighting the nausea that came with the motion. “No, no, I’m good. Feeling great. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

There was an attempt to raise her arm and shoot a web, but it failed rather miserably. She didn’t think the limb even moved, but the sudden, heavy wave of drowsiness that washed over her made that really hard to care about. A sigh slipped from her mouth, eyes drooping.

“Okay, yeah, maybe I’ll just take a little nap first.” The admission came out mumbled, but Gwen didn’t really notice. Nor did she feel herself pitch forward and slip off the wall entirely as her eyes were already slipping closed.

The world went dark before she could even hit the ground.

—

When Gwen woke again, the first of two major things she noticed was that she wasn’t in the alley she collapsed in.

In fact, she wasn’t outside at all. Her eyes cracked open and instead of staring into the cloudy afternoon sky, she was looking intently at a ceiling. And instead of laying on hard asphalt, she was resting on something soft—a couch, maybe.

She was in someone’s house, she belatedly realized, and that was when the second thing registered all at once.

Her mask was still on.

And it wasn’t just on, it was still tucked snugly into the neckline of her suit, the way she always kept it to ensure it never rode up. That meant that either someone went to great lengths to put it back in the exact position she liked it, or it was never taken off in the first place. When she saw you sitting in the chaise lounge across from the couch, her suspicions leaned toward the latter.

You hadn’t noticed her wake, eyes glued on the tv to her right, so she took the initiative to speak. It was harder than she expected since her throat was so dry, but after a few swallows, she managed to rasp her question out.

“Uh, where am I, exactly?”

Your eyes flicked to her instantly, and you sat up straighter, leaning forward a bit. “My house. Well, my mom’s house actually. She’s at work, won’t be back for a while. Good thing, too, because she would lose her shit if she saw you passed out on her couch.”

“Not a big fan of vigilantes?” she asked dryly. You chuckled.

“No, she’s not a big fan of her furniture getting dirty.”

“Oh,” Gwen muttered, pushing herself up to sit, “sorry, I can—”

Her sentence was cut short by you standing and gently shoving her to lie back down. “It’s fine, I’ll clean it later. Stay there.”

You watched her and, once you knew she would obey, walked out of her sightline. Gwen listened to your footsteps, noting the way you stopped around fifteen feet away. Then, she tilted her head back to glance at the windows and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the light shining through the thin, drawn curtains. She couldn’t have been out for more than an hour.

Now that her initial question had been answered, she moved on to her secondary. “Did you drag me all the way here by yourself?”

“Well, I was visiting a friend’s apartment earlier, so we were only a few blocks away,” you called from somewhere on the other side of the couch, the faint sound of a refrigerator being opened and closed compounding the statement. “But yes, I did drag you here myself. You’re heavier than you look, by the way.”

Gwen’s eyes narrowed beneath her mask, but she chose to take it as a compliment to her forming musculature.

You returned a few minutes later with a glass of water and a pitcher filled nearly to the brim, setting them both down on the coffee table in front of her. Immediately, she pushed herself to sit up, hiking her mask over her nose and downing the entire glass in a few gulps. In her peripheral, she saw you sit back down and look at the tv again, letting the room lapse into quiet.

Gwen let the silence sit for a bit, then asked, “So, why didn’t you take off my mask? Most people would jump at the chance to figure out my identity.”

“I’m not into invading other people’s privacy,” you said plainly with a light shrug. “Plus, you saved my life. Taking the mask off after that would’ve been a dick move.”

She stayed quiet for a minute, absorbing what you said, then, with genuine sincerity, said, “Thank you.”

You waved it off. “Consider us even. I wouldn’t have made it out without your help, this was the least I could do.”

A nod was the only response she gave. She knew she should probably leave now; she was in a stranger’s house, after all. But you didn’t seem to mind, so she poured herself another glass and settled back on the couch.

Despite the unorthodox situation, the atmosphere remained calm and quiet with occasional thought-provoking questions from you such as “What’s it like being wanted for murder?” and “Why do you wear ballet shoes instead of shoes that will protect your feet in fights?” neither of which she had solid answers for but had fun with anyway.

It was nice. Weird, undoubtedly, but a nice change of pace from the more turbulent and fast-paced interactions she was used to having with people as Spider-Woman. You seemed to be enjoying it too, if the fact that you didn’t kick her out an hour ago was anything to go by.

Time continued to pass, the darkening sky outside the window escaping both of your notice. Her phone buzzed in her pocket a few times while you were talking, but she elected to ignore it. That is until the tranquil air was eventually broken by her phone ringing, the Spider-Woman theme song echoing throughout the room.

“Sorry,” Gwen mumbled, pulling her phone out of her suit pocket. She scanned the screen and her eyes widened. It was her dad. She squinted slightly, confused as to why he was calling already, but then she looked at the time, and her eyes widened. Her dad had been expecting her home over an hour ago.

Panicked, she shot to her feet, narrowly avoiding slamming her shin into the coffee table by the couch. She took one step, then another, testing. Her limbs still felt a bit heavier than usual, but it wasn’t as bad as earlier, and she’d be able to swing home with minimal issues.

“Gotta go?” you asked, eyeing her from your seat.

She sighed, nodded. “Yeah, sorry, just remembered I have somewhere to be.”

You gave an understanding hum and she ventured to the door. Her hands were about to twist the doorknob when an idea suddenly popped into her head. It was a stupid idea, which made it all the more pervasive to her waning self-control. She debated back and forth with herself for all of seven seconds before she spun on her heels.

Gwen cleared her throat and put on a casual tone, praying her voice didn’t crack. “Hey, do you wanna get coffee,” she paused briefly, combing over her schedule in her head, “this Saturday? Y’know, as thanks for all this.”

“I thought we established that we were even,” you said, eyes narrowed.

“Well, I’m unestablishing it. So, coffee?” She rocked back on her heels, watching you ruminate on the offer.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you shrugged. “Who could say no to coffee with a wanted vigilante?”

Remembering that her mask was still pulled up halfway, she restrained the large smile threatening to creep onto her face to a small smirk. “Great, I’ll see you then…" Her sentence came to an abrupt end when she searched for a name and realized you had never given her one. “Uh, I didn’t catch your name?”

You raised a brow. “Are you gonna give me yours?”

She paused, then cocked her head to the side. “Fair enough. Then I’ll see you Saturday, stranger.”

“See you, spidey,” you said with a smile and a two-finger salute, both of which Gwen returned before pulling her mask down and jetting out the door.

She swung across the city with a speed that impressed even her, weaving through buildings and traffic with a racing heart and an immovable smile the whole way to her apartment.

In the end, Gwen wound up being grounded for a month since she was a little too distracted on her swing home to come up with a plausible excuse for her dad, but it wasn’t a problem. She would just sneak out Saturday during her dad’s shift for your coffee (maybe) date, and if she got caught and her punishment got extended, then so be it.

It would totally be worth it.

—

hi, if you made it this far, thanks for reading and i hope you have a good day 🥳🫶

#i also have a penchant for oddly vague summaries...dunno what that's about tbh #gwen stacy #gwen stacy x reader #ghost spider #spider gwen #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #itsv #atsv #spiderman #marvel

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theminecraftbee · 2 months

Text

so, first, accountability statement: I plan on trying to finish the “zedaph steals a baby” fic by the end of the month and god is that one-line summary no longer accurate but we’re sticking to it, said here publicly so now I have to do it. obviously I also have recursive exchange and the writing I have for hotguy comics zine, but I am not SUPER worried about either of those time/inspiration-wise at the moment and also for Reasons I know it won’t be long until I have more free writing time after that, SO.

various items that are on my potential writing docket, I am curious which of these appeal most:

I dust off the supervillain support group au. two ways this could go: I chip away at the second arc of my original outline and acknowledge this will be like a 300k fic I’m not ready to feel “done” with or “ready to post” with for ages, or I re-work it into something a little more doable and less ambitious keeping the same premise (ren runs a support group for supervillains, doc pov as he starts to heal and redeem himself). this MAY honestly be a target for “if I don’t hate the first 50k on re-reading it and I can actually make my brain write the second arc, do a slower release schedule and then start releasing chapters before I’m done writing”? but this ALSO runs the risk of “I stopped writing it, which is often a sign I was having trouble writing it”.

pearl monster au, which has been cooking in my head for a long while. the basic premise is “one day, pearl, with no memory of how or why this happened, wakes up in a facility as a monster and must try to figure out how she got there, escape, and find her way home, even knowing she may be irrevocably changed”. now with bonus season 10 fish flavor to add to this creature design I’ve been iterating on in my head for forever! this one is ALSO an experiment for me in “can I write a fic where I can’t write dialogue for basically the entire first act”, which would be interesting to see from me, you know?

the related “bigb folklore au”, where after secret life bigb is woken up by Cat and Dog by the tracks of the King Snake, which bigb can recognize as the railroad track, and decides to journey down the railroad to see if he can figure out what the fuck is going on. I need to do video review of life series bigb for this one. this is my excuse to get Weird and Metaphorical and also assign everyone to various animals for no reason, along with using some very specific aesthetic I have wanted to use for some worldbuilding but hadn’t gotten around to yet in any of my stuff. man walks through the desert with animal, confronts train that might be the watchers, might be death, and might just be a train. also, realizes that “confront” is the operative word there and has to deal with that. you know how it is.

““office au””, in air quotes because it’s not REALLY what anyone going to an office au is looking for so much as an excuse to write weird horror. iskall, normal-ish software developer man in a boring office job who does game jams in his free time, goes to work one day to work in his boring downtown office on a payment system for a client. and then things, uh, Take A Turn. this would be a LITTLE me going “what if I wrote an au with a guy who works in tech but like, the boring side of tech I’m in. like, banks and consulting and manufacturing and shit. where you sit in meetings all day and tweak java 8 code even though that language is ten years out of date. but THEN. something exciting happens in the worst way possible.” I’m doing to iskall what I did to mumbo stuffed bird is what I’m saying. it’d be fun.

DO ANY OF THESE PARTICULARLY INTEREST ANYONE. your input will be valued. like 50% chance i get hit with a strong bolt of inspiration then IGNORE that input but it’ll be valued all the same,

#note that me telling you about these ideas is ALSO accountability #on account of both ‘anyone can make whatever based on my things forever’ meaning one of you could make one now #and on account of people will start asking me about them on rare occasion now lol

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dailyadventureprompts · 1 month

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Adventure: A Draft Through the Door

An unnatural gloom creeps over the countryside, the shadows grow long and the dawn seems slow to rise. The townsfolk grow increasingly listless, and have asked your party to investigate the mage's manor across the lake, which seems to be the origin of this miasmic melancholia. Your journey will not be an easy one, as the landscape grows ever more eerie, and things are seen to move in the drifting banks of mist.

Of the many reasons that wizards take on apprentices (passing down knowledge, having a sounding board for new theories, an extra pair of hands to prepare spell components and do the sweeping up) one of the less discussed ones is how vital it is to have a second pair of eyes on lookout for when something magical inevitably goes wrong.

It makes sense when you think about it, a proper wizard's mind is too full of brilliance to bother with things like making sure that week's batch of potions don't boil over in the cauldron or that the stacked tomes of lore present a firehazard if they're not put away.

So it was with the mage Milghram Brightstaff and his precocious apprentice Adaline, who lived a quaint existence in the manor by the edge of the lake filling their days with scholarship, experiments, and attending to the problems brought to them by locals visiting from across the countryside. That was until mage Milghram decided to pop off to his extra-dimensional storage unit by way of a shadowfell portal in the manor's basement. He thought he'd only been gone a few hours, but neglected to apply the protective charm required to spare himself from the memory-sapping defences guarding his vault. now Milghram wanders the land of shades in a perpetual state of "why did I come into this room?" while the essence of that dread dimension leak back through his unclosed portal.

Adventure Hooks:

The party might've been sent to seek out the wizard, or visit town on their own buisness. Either way nothing's getting done so long as the countyside is blanketed in memory erroding fog and creatures from the shadow realm stalk through the murk. After several nights worth of exposure the town's defenders have had the wost of it, having forgotten what they're guarding or why they've established barricades.. it'll take some guile or calm negoitation for them to let the heroes past the gate.

When the party eventually gets to the manor they'll not only find the place locked, shuttered, and in many cases barricaded, but also protected by a slew of arcane defences ranging from animated objects to teleportation traps that will hurl them out into the lake. Two thirds of the way through their magical B&E and likely expecting a mad wizard to emerge from the shadows and begin a villain monolog, they'll instead find an exhausted teen running through the manor hurling heedless spells at a fleeing bug-thing demanding they help catch it before it gets too big.

For a girl of only fourteen winters beset on all sides by living nightmares Adaline is handling herself marvellously. She's activated the manor's wards sealing the worst of the cursed mist in the basement (or atleast she had until the party chopped their way in) and has been using a borrowed wand to hunt down most of the shadow creatures that have begun to infest the manor grounds. She's deeply worried about her teacher however, and blames herself for the series of distractions that led the old man to forgetting to throw on his protective charm. Depending on how they play it, they can either have her charm them and venture into the portal looking for the errant mage, or attempt to distract her long enough to close the portal themselves and leave the old wizard for dead.

Art

#manor #shadow fell #dungeon #swamp #river #town encounter #village encounter #seeking knowledge #seeking aid #wizard #portals

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ladykinrannoch · 2 months

Text

Reading - Catherine is doing s-well!

Catherine's energy this morning. I read with Luna Sol really really early this morning although I am only bringing it to you now. As I said before I don't want interference in my readings so morning seems to be the best time, right after my yoga and meditation. As you can see... on my yoga mat! Had my hand pipe meditation music going in my little zen home gym. X

Situation: 3 Wands

Waiting energy, waiting for good news and her ships to come in. This is waiting for something you planned and banked on. Watching out over the tide and the swell of the waves. Calm And gentle not stormy water.

I had three simple questions: health, home and children.

Health: Queen of Pentacles

Feeling more like herself, over the worst. Good to see her upright and in her own court card and cardinal energy.

Home: Ace of Cups

A new addition. A puppy perhaps? WINK! A new beginning, lovely news and a new direction. Could also be a new project.

Children: King of Swords

This is William in Dad energy. He's keeping the kids to a good routine. Perhaps his military experience and team work has got the home running ship shape. Very stable, very intelligent approach. He seems to be in charge and in control. He also feels more positive and decisive. Nothing like doing the Mummy work on your own to appreciate all the hard work it is.

Outcome: Judgement

She gets a do over, a real a second chance. Ironically this is also the rebirth and resurrection card. I also feel a sense of winning here, lots of joy and happiness. So blessed and feeling gratitude for abundance.

Underlying: 9 of Cups

A dream and a wish come true! I know you know. Catherine is very happy with this.

Conclusion:

All very joyous and happy, it seems like great progress, although lovely news not yet time for celebration cards, so cautious and waiting still, a new beginning/new direction but a happy one, William has stepped up. And she has something she has wanted for a long time.

I do believe like River said on Sunday night, although I laid this spread and watched his broadcast tonight. HA ! BOOM ! SNAP ! That he has from his sources in the know that she will come back glorious and very "Easterial somewhat like a resurrection" I think he said. IYKYK. There is not anything to lift or stretch or plump on that face and last time I checked faces are not on abdomens. Wonder where the squad studied biology and anatomy.

Observations:

All cards upright. Two cup cards so that is the dominant suit. The Judgement major Arcana outcome very positive!

*** Message to Catherine

All hail Catherine! Thank you for letting me know through the cards you are doing swell in your recovery! Much love and light to the beautiful Catherine. Our Goddess Brid/St Brigid of the Healing Waters will bathe you in protection. It's hard for us to be patient and we miss you so much! We just want you better and back with us! Much love from all of your Tumblr supporters.

#tarot #british royal family #royal reading #tarot by ladykinrannoch #PrincessofWales

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akutasoda · 3 months

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Noticed ur requested are open so I gonna the idea I had so got inspired by Genshin archon quest and I was in love furina charcter and sm wondering if u can like crossover type request if ok with u

So I was wondering if I may request a Dan heng / IL X fem Reader

Where reader is basically similar to furina maybe Reader

was tasked by hydro archon focalor maintaining the guise of an Archon; as a new "human", she had difficulty taking the role but eventually mastered it. Additionally, a curse was placed upon her, rendering her unable to die so long as Focalors lived, but also preventing her from pursuing her own happiness. Reader is Aware of the prophecy that would doom Fontaine so reader has to play the e role of Hydro Archon for 500 years . maybe the astral express landed like in new universe tevat Fontaine and trying to figure out the new world maybe Dan heng Mets Reader noticed her and like feels connect to her due to him having experience past burdens and he can tell something up with can see right through reader act. Wants to get to know her maybe reader and how to help her and

Maybe reader like has momment alone to herself crying carrying this burden not be able to show it until Dan heng shows up but reader is stubborn to show or to tell her burdens maybe she goes to trial for being fraud and the express and Dan Genf have to help reader if this makes sense

(This idea I had in mine but I hoping romantic fluff comfort fic but also lore wise I hope this makes sense again if this too difficult of request I can change it I just like hope this is ok

Aslo furina supremacy love her

a preferred outcome for a doomed prophecy

synopsis - maybe the prophecy wouldn't turn out all that bad

includes - dan heng ft express crew + neuvillette

warnings - fem!reader (no pronouns mentioned howeve), reader is based on furina, fluff, angst with some comfort, maybe ooc?, wc - 1.5k

a/n: ahhh im so sorry this took so long!

the express had experienced all sorts of worlds within the galaxy, some not even taking form of planets but rather ships and such. each and every one housing a variety of colourful characters and deep history that spurred the current state it resided in. but they all had one thing in common, they all had a page in the expresses data bank.

the memories however, travelled with the trailblazer that experienced them. and after trailblazing for so long nothing seemed out of the ordinary when the express had an unexpected malfunction and needed to dock at the nearest planet - it wouldn't be the first time. however one would only need to take a step outside to realise that something indeed was different.

you were aimlessly wandering around the vast halls behind the court, looking for something to satiate your boredom. recently the lack of trials had bored you half to death and more annoyingly gave you less things to think about so, more often your mind would drift the the prophecy.

but you wanted to shake these horrid thoughts and push them to the back of your mind. and your wish was soon granted when you heard the voice of fontaine's ludex call your name from behind you. your initial reaction was to turn around with the biggest grin and address the man in front of you but he looked more somber, more serious than usual.

he kept his words short and brief and urged you to follow him to help with a situation that he claimed 'shouldn't get out of hand' or 'into public news'. and while you did follow immediately, your mind resurfaced the ideas of the prophecy and assumed the worst - maybe today was the day?

and as much as you tried to force yourself to not assume the worst, you couldn't stop the rapid pit of dread forming in your stomach.

you were your nations archon. and so it seemed only appropriate that you were the first person to greet the newcomers from beyond your world. all your boredom soon dissipated as you became rather eager and intrigued about your nations new visitors - but all questions would have to wait until you got the express members into your proper office.

and you had managed to get them there with minimum stares and whispering from your nations residents. you felt as though this issue was definitely better tackled within the confines of your private office. and based on what the lady named himeko had briefly told you, it seems you made the right call.

you had been introduced to all the members, seeing they would be staying here for quite a bit it'd only be polite - you may have additionally asked alot of questions as it wasn't everyday you met people that travelled through space. you also told them a tad about yourself and offered some background information about your lovely nation.

you welcomed them to look around and told them to not hesitate to ask for any help. in turn, himeko told you about the expresses data bank and gestured toward dan heng who you had been told compiles most of it. you expressed how you would be honoured you nation would be included.

over the next few days the express came to learn that they would not be leaving for a few weeks, but out of all the express members the one you had encountered the most was dan heng. he had gotten himself quite well acquainted with neuvillette and so you saw him often - mostly on his quest to fill out the data bank. and from your very first interaction it seemwd as though you both were doomed to get along.

over the first week, you and dan heng often conversed to the point ehere it seemed as though you had known him your entire life. neither of you could explain it but there was something there, something that made it easy for the two of you to converse - much to the expresses shock.

dan heng was quite surprised himself but he had grown accustomed to your presence in an alarmingingly short period of time, but there must've been a reason for this right?

he had a very strong, natural sense of perception - so much so that he could tell something was bothering you. no amount of happy go lucky attitude could fool him into thinking something didn't plague your mind constantly and because he had barely known you, he didn't say anything. it wasn't his place, he would tell himself.

but he could hardly ignore it when he walked in to your sobbing form. it had only been two weeks and the express was near ready to depart, so dan heng wanted to collect some final information. he had wanted to know more about the residents and who better to ask than you. he found neuvillette and asked where you were, he was told your office. when he arrived at your office he knocked, knocked again and knocked again. but each time was met with silence, normally he would've turned around and assumed he went the wrong way but he had heard sniffling on the other side of the door, so he opened it.

your head immediately whipped around upon hearing your office door creak open and you were left shocked at the sight of dan heng. you immediately swiped your eyes of any lingering tears and asked him in a meek voice that he should 'come back at a better time' and how he should 'seek out the ludex for anything at the moment'. dan heng wanted to protest, sure he wasn't the best at comforting people but it was clear that you needed some support. but he left.

and that wasn't the last time. only a few days later did he re-emerge in your office just to catch you crying as you stared aimlessly at the mirror that, for a brief moment, he swore had another reflection in eerily similar to you. now more than ever did he want to help. he had briefly heard you mumbling about some prophecy and he could immediately gather that this was some sort of burden you carried.

now, he knew a thing or two about carrying burdens, he knew how tormenting and stressful they could be - he did have frequent nightmares afterall. and even though he had know you for a mere few weeks, he wanted to help. afterall, wasn't it the trailblazers mission to help those across the galaxy?

unfortunately himeko and welt helped remind him of a painful reminder. once the express was up and running, they would leave and the likelihood of him ever seeing you would be close to none. and no matter how much he would talk about atleast trying to help now, if you didn't let anyone know what was your burden, no-one could help.

it was the last day in your nation, for the express and for you. the express were set to part and dan heng wanted to bid you farewell but only neuvillette showed to bid them farewell. neuvillette expressed how you had told him to relay your goodbye message. but even so, neuvillette also knew some of the prophecy and he encouraged them to go despite their joint insistence on thanking you - if they didn't leave soon, they too would be washed away in fontaine waters.

but the express crew knew something was up by now. and very reluctantly neuvillette told them of the prophecy after their insistence that they travelled worlds to help people and so if they could do anything they would. neuvillette expressed how nothing could be done. but dan heng wasn't so deterred.

however, it seemed as though the celestia herself had taken a form of pity. the prophecy didn't come true. and despite your trial going ahead and you being found guilty, you weren't to be executed. neuvillette still gained full control of hydro and sovereignty and forgave the sins of the residents of your nation but in turn he found a way to forgive yours aswell.

due to dan heng's insistence of helping you, it spurred the rest of the express to want to try just as much. and so neuvillette was offered with the idea of you joining the express. this way you could be free from the curse and still live out the rest of your days, and neuvillette allowed it. it was still your final decision however but you gladly accepted.

you still felt sorrow of having to leave some people behind, namely neuvillette, but he encouraged you to go - he would've of been in much pain to see you die. and your connection with dan heng seemed to pull through once more. as the instant you saw him you ran to give him the biggest hug anyone could offer in thanks for everything he did and he gladly reciprocated the action.

#x reader #x fem reader #x female reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail dan heng #hsr dan heng #dan heng x reader

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