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saibug1022 · 1 year

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The Morning After

Word Count: 2.5k

Abel Flint x Castor Athantis (gn ILW MC)

A/N: So. That Chapter 14 Abel scene. We were robbed of the next, morning. So, I wrote it. It was originally supposed to be all fluff then I had the thought of Castor having one of the nightmares that night and it all spiraled downhill. Also, for context, I took two of my MCs and made them twins, Castor is this one and their twin is Julian.

When Castor opened their eyes, at first it seemed they were floating in some sort of black void. There was no light, no ground, nothing as far as they could see or feel or hear.

"Hello?" Castor called out, only minutely relieved to hear their own voice.

Castor.

"You again?" Castor looked around. "What do you want now?"

I want out!

"Out of where?" Castor asked for the millionth time. All they'd managed to understand was that this person was trapped somewhere and in obvious pain. They were scared, Castor could tell that much. But they still wouldn't tell Cas where they were or who they were or anything!

I'll show you.

There was a glint of something in the distance, something metallic. Castor squinted to try and make out what it was but it was moving too fast. It streaked toward them in the darkness and Cas's eyes widened. They tried to move, tried to cry out, but they couldn't do anything as the strange bronze object cut through the air and stabbed Castor in the heart.

"Hnnnnn," Castor whined. It was the only noise they could make as their world exploded in pain. It wasn't just the wound. It felt like they were falling apart. The life was draining out of them as if their soul was being forcefully yanked from their body. No. Not their soul. It was the Power. The Power itself was being drained from them, burning them from the inside out.

They looked down, vision swimming, and tried to identify the object they'd been impaled with. It was a spike, long and lovingly carved with a rope tied to the end. But the thing that really caught Castor’s attention was the glowing blue rune set into the metal. They wrapped their hand around the spike and went to pull it out before they heard the voice of their brother in their head, some memory from when Amalia got stabbed and Jules told Cas not to pull the knife out because it was containing the bleeding. But this thing wasn't stopping Castor's bleeding. In fact, despite being able to feel their own blood choking them as it filled their lungs, they didn't seem to be bleeding at all.

Before they could decide what to do the spike moved forward. But not further into Cas, instead it seemed to shove them until they were "laying" on their back. Then it started moving, dragging Castor with it.

It moved fast, faster than Cas should be able to survive moving. It wasn't even moving really. It was falling. They were falling. They were falling through an endless darkness. It didn't matter if they survived the spike. They were dead the moment they hit the bottom.

If there was a bottom.

Castor couldn't even scream. The spike in their chest kept them from getting the air they need. The most they could make was choked-off noises of pain and fear as their hair whipped around their face. They couldn't scream, they couldn't move, they couldn't do anything. They had to just wait. Wait in terror to die.

Alone.

There was no warning. One moment they were falling, the next they'd slammed into the ground with several sickening snaps. A gasp was forced from them. They couldn't even feel the pain over the burning. They opened their eyes and…light! There was light! It was faint, so faint it didn't light up the area around them. But it was there. It also seemed distorted, kind of like it was filtering through water.

The second Castor had that thought it was like the water had become real. Thousands of gallons of water tried to force themselves into their lungs. The air and blood were forced out and Castor found themself choking, trying so so desperately to just breathe. They didn't want to die, not down here. Not alone where no one would ever find them.

They fumbled for the spike to try and pull it out but it was stuck fast, anchoring them to the ground beneath them no matter how they struggled. This couldn't be the end. No. Not like this, not when they finally found somewhere. They finally found a place that felt like home for the first time in five horrible long years and they couldn't lose that.

And Julian. Oh God, Julian. The two of them had lost everything. Julian, he couldn't lose Castor too. Cas wasn't sure he'd survive it. They had to get out, they had to live but they COULDN'T FUCKING BREATHE!

"Cas?"

Castor was sure they were crying as they pulled desperately on the spike but the tears blended with the water drowning them and their sobs couldn't escape their suffocating body. They just kept struggling for what had to have been minutes yet they were still just burning, drowning, dying, but never quite crossing that threshold. They couldn't even die.

"Castor?!"

Was this really it? This couldn't be how their journey ended. They couldn't even DIE?! They were cursed to spend forever drowning, suffocating, breaking, dying, over and over and over forever until eventually, they did die. But they didn't want to die. They didn't want to die they didn't want to die THEY DIDNT WANT TO DIE-

"CASTOR!"

"GAH!" Castor cried out, body jolting upright as their hands scrambled at the bedsheets.

"Hey, Cas, it's okay!" A familiar voice assured them as large hands gripped their shoulders. "Breathe, baby, you're okay."

Cas forced themself to inhale, slowly, shakily, then exhale. Their eyes squeezed shut as they kept forcing those breaths in and out like they'd forgotten how to breathe.

"That's it," The voice muttered and they felt one of the hands move to cup their cheek and they leaned into the warmth without even thinking about it. "Just breathe. You're okay, I've got you."

After a few more breaths Castor finally opened their eyes to find the kind features of Abel Flint, his face set with worry. They were in a room that it took Castor a moment to recognize considering it wasn't theirs, it was Abel's. They were in Abel's room, they'd stayed over the night before.

And they just woke him up screaming.

Shit.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Castor muttered, gaze dropping to Abel's shoulder instead of meeting his eyes. Abel's thumb brushed their skin, brushing away their tears. They hadn't even realized they'd been crying.

"Sorry? What are you sorry for?" Abel asked, so genuinely confused it made a smile flicker onto Castor's face for just a second.

"Whatever the hell that was," Cas sighed and used their own hand to wipe away the rest of the tears roughly.

"Was it one of the nightmares?" Abel asked gently. "With the voice?"

Castor just nodded.

"Cas you don't have anything to apologize for," Abel assured them. "I'll admit, I was worried when I woke up and I was definitely scared when you wouldn't, but none of that is your fault. It's whoever has been torturing you for the last three weeks."

"I know but I shouldn't have stayed over knowing that could happen," Castor argued and Abel used his hand on Castor's face to force them to look at him.

"Castor you do not have to deal with this alone," Abel insisted. Castor opened their mouth to protest further but Abel shook his head. "No. You don't have to go through this on your own. I know, Julian is having the same dreams, but when was the last time you talked about these dreams outside of just summarizing them for information?"

Castor's silence was all the answer Abel needed.

"Exactly," Abel nodded. "You're the one talking about how you want me to let you take care of me, right? Well, that goes both ways. Let me take care of you.”

Castor wanted to argue. The only people they’d let take care of them in five years were Julian and Amalia and even then it was iffy. They’d been in other relationships in that time and while they were fun and Cas cared about those people whenever it got to this moment right here, where Castor needed to open up and admit how fucked up they were and that they needed help, that was the moment Castor ran. They just couldn’t get themself to make that last big leap. Because being vulnerable like that meant letting that person into their life fully, including the dark, the scary, and the violent parts of it. Which meant someone else they could lose.

But none of those relationships were like this one. Not only was Abel already a part of all of this but he was just…different. Abel understood them, better than anyone else. He was so sweet and so kind and so strong and he cared. He cared so much and so strongly that Castor couldn’t stop him if they wanted to because that care was what kept them smiling and their eyes shining and their heart beating. Castor just felt…safe. They felt safe. They felt safe with Abel. Enough that they let their shoulders drop and their eyes close and their cheek lean into Abel’s palm.

“Okay,” Castor finally said, voice hardly even a whisper. The grin Abel gave them could have rivaled the sun. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to their forehead.

Abel wrapped his arms around their waist and carefully shifted the both of them until they were laying down again, Castor’s head once again pillowed on Abel’s chest right over his heart. They took a deep breath as they focused on the steady thump of Abel’s heart, reminding them they weren’t alone. They wrapped an arm around him and went to curl in further only to hiss in pain as their legs moved. They were sore, really sore, and it took them a second to remember why. Once they did, well, they had to hide a flustered grin against Abel’s chest.

“What is it? Are you okay?” Abel checked, concern creeping into his voice.

“Mhmm,” Castor hummed. “I’m just, uh, sore.”

“Oh yeah?” Castor could hear Abel’s smirk and they groaned as they reached up to try and cover his mouth, but all they got was the sound of his laughter as he caught their hand. “I don’t see how that’s a problem, I’m pretty proud of myself for it actually.”

“Oh my God I hate you,” Castor groaned again. Abel made a dramatic gasp and pressed his hand to his heart as if Castor’s comment had deeply wounded him. “I’m so sorry.”

“You should be,” Abel gave a fake sniffle and Castor found themself actually laughing as they surfaced from Abel’s skin. They folded their arms on his chest and set their chin on their arms so they could look up at Abel with a small smile. “There it is.”

“What?”

Abel grinned as he brushed the hair from Castor’s face. “Your smile.”

Castor felt their face heat and they immediately hid in their arms again.

“You’re adorable,” Abel commented.

“And you’re the worst,” Castor replied.

“But I’m your worst.”

“That didn’t even make sense!”

“It totally did.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“But I’m your dork.”

“There you go, look at that. Are you happy now?”

“Very,” Abel nodded, grinning like a fool.

“You know, I believe I was promised pancakes,” Castor remembered.

“You absolutely were,” Abel confirmed. And because he was so loving and so caring he tossed Castor onto the bed so he could get up, ignoring their startled shriek.

“You asshole!” Castor laughed and Abel just stuck his tongue out at them as he opened his dresser. He pulled out a t-shirt which triggered a thought in Castor that made them grimace. Not pout. Totally not pout. “Ugh, I don’t wanna put my jeans on.”

“If you want to borrow my clothes you could just ask,” Abel smirked at them over his shoulder and Castor stuck their tongue out at him because they were a very mature pair.

“I think I’d drown in your clothes you titan,” Castor teased and Abel just shrugged and pulled on the t-shirt he’d grabbed.

“All I’m hearing is more reasons for you to borrow my clothes,” Abel held out a dark green t-shirt, a pair of soft and black pajama pants, and a pair of boxers. Cas glared at him for a second but sighed as they took the clothes, biting back a delighted giggle because they were committed now.

Abel pulled on his own pajama pants and Cas got out of bed, wincing a little at the soreness in their legs. But they managed to pull on the clothes Abel had given them and resisted the urge to smell the shirt, knowing it would smell like him. They looked up to see Abel beaming at them and they grabbed him by the shirt to pull him in for a kiss. Abel hummed happily against their lips and his hands held their waist only to use that to scoop them up and carry them out to the living room bridal style. Castor couldn’t help laughing as they were plopped onto the couch and got one more kiss before Abel headed for the kitchen.

Castor turned on the couch and folded their arms on the back of it, head laying on their arms as they watched Abel hum to himself and start going through his kitchen. The sun was just starting to come through the blinds, turning his brown eyes amber whenever he turned towards the golden light. Castor felt a smile tug at their lips but it was different from the grins and smirks from earlier. It was smaller but it was soft, it was so happy and content. After all, Castor was happy and content. For once, they were just…relaxed. They felt safe. They felt loved.

They loved Abel Flint.

Cas already knew this deep down, but thinking the words still brought them a new kind of joy. They’d always wanted a long-term relationship, to really build a life with somebody. But whenever they tried they just…couldn’t. They could never get themself to pull out of their monster-hunting lifestyle long enough to really grow roots anywhere and they refused to let anyone else fall into that kind of life. They could never really see a future for themself outside of monsters and the Power.

But with Abel? They could see it. They could see him making breakfast in the morning, teaching them how to cook because, in all honesty, they were hopeless at it. They could see waking up with him every morning and watching the sun turn his skin gold only to fall asleep in each other’s arms every night. They could see themself meeting his siblings, stealing kisses when they both have a free moment between classes, dancing in the living room, and getting into a water fight doing the dishes. They could even see moving in with him maybe, rings on their fingers, maybe even a kid of their own one day.

Because god damn it Castor loved Abel Flint.

And Abel Flint made them love themself too.

#it lives within #it lives #ilw #it lives within fic #it lives fic #ilw fic #ilw spoilers #it lives within spoilers #ilw mc #abel flint #abel flint x mc #gn mc

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hecketernal · 5 months

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Everyone Thinks Jak Is Dying AU (Aka everyone miscommunicates to some pretty ridiculous and angsty levels but Jak's totally fine) ((pls read I swear I still have some comfort with this hurt some funny with the tragedy pls hear me out))

Explanation: I had had this weird impression that Jak was flat out dying from dark eco poisoning, when I was a kid. It seems kid me had made some assumptions from listening to Baron Praxis' propaganda stations where he flat out says, "The dark eco inside you will eventually kill you, Jak," and the way Jak first reacted to getting light eco.

Everyone else seemed to die in the Dark Warrior Project. Hell, they flat out acknowledge Jak should be dead himself from the amount of dark eco pumped into him. Even if a slow death via eco poisoning isn't what the games were going for, it would still make sense lorewise. The game will insta kill you for falling into the stuff.

Buuuuut for a moment just consider...applying that misconception to Damas and Jak's growing paternal bond.

Jak, in his freshly betrayed wariness, decides to hide his dark eco abilities. He's tired. He can't trust anyone except for Daxter, but Daxter is The Exception in capital letters and everything. Jak has found a force he can't or isn't equipped to beat within the long, hot stretch of the desert with no Keira to build a contraption to get them out. He doesn't even know... if Keira cares enough to build some zoomer with a heat shield or whatever would come to her mechanical mind for them anymore. None of his "allies" spoke up very loudly to defend Jak, so Jak stashes his otherness away. Well, he hides it to the best of his abilities. He'll never be a spy, but he can manage a few marauders in some Arena of Death with just a gun and some effort. Transforming had always been last resort anyways. With fear from his betrayal instead of anger leading him, he never transforms in front of all of Spargus to see. He's doesn't want to be Baron Praxis' renegade weapon, the man made monster that slipped its leash. He wants a moment without that. He can't go back to the kid from Sandover. He doesn't want to, but the idea of being just another exile like everyone else is...heady.

Jak doesn't know that he can't hide what's already been seen. Dark eco scars are distinctive, and Jak's were very visible during his stint with unconsciousness and heatstroke. The monks had attended to the two boys, but they had not done so silently. Precursor monks did not care to censor their muttering about dark eco corruption. Their prayers for salvation or less pain for the boy were easily overheard by the alert King of Spargus. It's likewise impossible to hide the way dark eco skitters towards Jak. The way it sinks into his skin. The way his pallor goes white. His face pained. The way the newest recruit sometimes clutches an arm, angling it away from view. Jak does manage to hide the growing claws with this action, so good for him. Bad for Damas.

Damas is under the impression that Jak is dying. Dark eco poisoning is an unpleasant but often inescapable death sentence for even the strongest warriors. He's known good Wastelanders that had to be buried after just a brush with the energy. It might be slow with this new recruit, but it will come all the same. Won't it? Damas tries his best to remain distant. His heart has already been shattered from the loss of one child, but it seems those broken shards are destined to break a little more. Jak is so damningly earnest for someone who tries to act jaded and tough. Damas can't remain distant. Every wall Damas builds is blasted away by the young warrior's newest actions. Damas is doing his best to hold himself together, but inside he is a mess. He doesn't want to lose another son. When Jak spoke of not knowing his father, Damas realized there was one thought more agonizing than losing another son, a lonely son dying fatherless. It catalyzes the father for he cannot stop thinking of himself as anything but a father. Isn't this what he always told himself he would do anything for? Another moment with his child? Damas will not squander the time they have left. Besides, the desert is rough and fickle, and violent death has come for all of Spargus' other kings. He might worry for naught. His death might come for him sooner than Jak's.

#jak and daxter au #jak and daxter #jak #damas #everyone thinks jak is dying au #jak is living in a comedy with more and more ridiculous shenanigans to hide his dark form #damas is meanwhile living within a tragedy #but he's used to that #lmao sorry #i keep twisting the knife #normally im a huge fix it fic girl #but technically i like some hurt with my comfort #and baby im planning for this one to hurt a lot #but dont worry i cant control myself there will still be comfort #jnd #jak 3 #damas jnd #also shenanigans shall be there as i remain silly #my aus

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phoenixcatch7 · 1 year

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I know 'person with secret to hide spots other person with secret to hide but doesn't say anything' is like. Thee trope in superhero crossovers, but come on! Some of these guys have been doing this for decades! There's tons of heroes that have gone to pretty extreme lengths to be Completely Imperceptible in civilian life.

Don't you think it's scarier, after all is said and done, to sit there and think I didn't notice a thing? I wouldn't have ever realised? I would never have known? To know that someone you were familiar with - close with, even! - had this whole other personality and skillset and powers and experiences and life just behind the curtain, and they hid it so completely you didn't even see it was there.

'I always knew there was something off' what if you didn't. How world shaking would it be to be so utterly blindsided? To know that this person had somehow learned to so deceptive?

#Strongly inspired by the dp x dc where Danny knows what up IMMEDIATELY or a bat clocks Danny as super suspicious within mins of meeting #Or the amount of reveal fics caused by the hero slipping up in some stupid way and getting themselves doxxed against their will #Like come on!! Full time heroes like superman or batman or Spidey go to great lengths to construct an entirely separate civilian persona!#And yes I know they've had their idiot moments when it comes to their identities but they've kept their secret rock solid for irl DECADES #What's an identity reveal without drama!! Shake it up! Stir the pot! Not a slow and gradual build up of suspicion and stress #But two high speed trains coming at right-angles and the audience is the only one who can see the incoming crash #Twist the knife in if you want. Make it HURT. Make it completely rewrite what they believed.#Short ID reveals are great for this because you can SEE the ripple effects spreading out as the story ends. Just BANG.#But also no ID reveal at all. The main character goes through the story regularly interacting with and developing character right alongside #A hero in hiding and no one is ever the wiser. You're a worker in WE fending off attempts to steal your inventions and Bruce Wayne #Invites you to his office to discuss security and he walks you back to your office when you get nervous about a break in.#You're struggling with school bullies and getting into trouble over your photography hobby and Peter Parker is right there alongside #You complaining about rich kids and fiddling with the outdated finicky lenses you got from the school.#You're a reporter unpicking a mystery scandal and you ask resident tank Clark Kent if he's able to play bodyguard if you go somewhere shady #The reader knows. No one else notices a thing.#And besides focusing on the civilian side is a nice change of pace! Let's see how they manage leading double lives!#What do I even tag this #batman #superman #Marvel #Dcu #spiderman #secret identity #identity reveal #long tags #captain marvel #miraculous ladybug #I know I know #hero and villain

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professor-abeloved · 8 months

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Ever since that day, Amalia knew that Amor had her back. She swore to do the same, especially after meeting her again (when she came out to Lia as trans, joking that at least her name is now easier to spell than ‘Amelia’… while mumbling that she wanted to be less rough around the edges). And again, when Amor woke up at the hospital. She was different, colder and more terrified, but unflinchingly honest, kind, and steadfast. Amalia hopes she can meet every version of Amor to come. (Love by Any Other Name, an Amalia x F!MC fic)

this beautiful piece is by emeqnyx on ig + the outfits are by Xiao Lai/Laica Chan on fb !! 💜💜💜

#ilw #it lives within #amalia de león #amalia de leon #amalia x mc #ilw mc #amor rodriguez #els ocs #my girls!!!!!! i miss writing this fic aaaaaaa someone tell me to update HAHAHA

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aces-and-angels · 1 month

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Title: Not My Birthday

A/N: what the hell is up, gang? i've been dying to share this one with y'all for weeks and now it's finally here 🎊🎊🎊 please enjoy the thing that's been plaguing my very being for hours on end 🖤 @choicesficwriterscreations

p.s. a big thank you to @noesapphic for helping me out with some of the spanish dialogue

Characters: Xiomara Calloway (oc: @a-cloud-for-dreams), Ryan Cortazar, Amalia de León (oc: @itlivesproject), Beau McGraw, Enid Mendoza, Cameron Rose, Tommy Rose, Gigi Sinclair, Martin Vanderweil, Wind Velez (oc: @oh-so-youre-a-nerd)

Pairing(s): Martin x Wind (not yet official), Gigi x Xiomara

Summary: Set sometime before Magnus gets hired; Wind does their best to get through another birthday.

Content Warning(s): brief mention of blood, language, childhood trauma

Word Count: 3.9K

read below cut or...

AO3 LINK

---

McGraw Byrne, morning…

It’s just a day. A set of numbers written in the margin. Zero three zero two. Yet Wind’s calendar remains flipped to February, its page marked with thick black lines crossing off each date. What they’d give to be able to take a sharpie to the day and scribble it out entirely. But they can’t- not for another 14 hours and 32 minutes. Not like they’re counting or anything.

Amalia saves them first.

“Mx. Velez, I know you’re busy with that case for Landon, but can you-”

“Yes,” they say all too quickly.

Amalia blinks, perplexed by their eagerness. “You don’t even know what I’m about to ask for yet.”

“Does that matter? You know I’d do anything for one of my favorite paralegals.” Their desperate need for distraction aside, the sentiment was sincere. Without Amalia, completing any case would be nearly impossible.

“Wasn’t fishing for compliments, but I’ll take it,” she breathes with a hint of a smirk tugging at her lip. “Hopefully, you’ll still hold that sentiment after this conversation.”

“Pretty sure I will. What can I help you with?”

“It’s a bit… Es una tontería, de verdad,” she warns, absently toying with the hem of her wine red blazer.

Noticing her nerves, Wind pushes their notebook aside. “Amalia, no te preocupes, puedes decirme lo que pasa.”

The warmth and reassurance in their tone do something to soothe her nerves, as her hand noticeably stills. “Mr. Vanderweil tasked me with redacting these documents yesterday. Simple, right?”

They nod along to her story. “I’d say so.”

“I thought so too, but then I had an issue with loading the PDFs on my computer, so I…” she pauses, sucking in a breath. “I took an alternative approach.”

“What kind of approach?”

“Converting all the files to Word docs so I could highlight all the info in black instead of contacting IT like I should have.” Her words fly out of her mouth faster than she can speak, jumbling into a mess of syllables they barely manage to catch. But they do- and oh, how their stomach plummets to the floor.

Panic cracks through the otherwise calm demeanor they’ve maintained thus far. “Amalia-”

“I know- I know,” she laments, rushing up to the foot of their desk. “Ryan already told me how wrong that was half an hour ago, which is why I haven’t uploaded anything yet.”

“Oh, thank God,” they sigh, visibly slumping into their chair. “This’ll be easy to fix then.”

“Except it won’t be because Mr. Vanderweil wanted this done before the partner meeting, and he’ll definitely chew me out when he learns that it isn’t.” Whatever nerves were kept at bay came rushing back in full force. Amalia began pacing, her heels scuffing up the floors beneath her with every anxious step. “This is the easiest thing to do, and I found a way to mess it up. It’s no question- I’m gonna get fired. And what respectable law school is going to accept someone who can’t even-”

Wind jumps from their seat to block her path. Their hands fly to her shoulders, stopping her in place with a firm grip. “Amalia,” they say gently, careful not to agitate her any further. Her dark brown eyes dart around the room, desperate to cling onto something- anything. Wind squeezes her once, steadying her frenzied gaze at them. “Inhala. Exhala.” So that’s what they do. They breathe.

In and out.

Inhala. Exhala.

Eventually, the dust settles and Wind’s arms fall back to their sides. “Better?”

She nods. “Better.”

“Good. Now, how much work do you have left?”

“I managed to fix around half of what Mr. Vanderweil sent me, but there’s still over a hundred pages left to deal with.”

The wheels in their head spin, formulating a plan. “Okay- here's what we'll do. Forward the files to me. I'll take the first 50 or so, you get the rest. Can Ryan pitch in? That would really speed things up.”

“He’s tied up with logging discovery for Ms. Tanaka. That’s why I came to you,” she grimaces.

“That's fine. We’ll manage on our own.”

“Are you sure? Even with help, it'll take some time.”

The honest answer was that they weren’t. Meetings at McGraw Byrne are notorious for being pushed up at the drop of a hat. There’s no guarantee Martin wouldn’t decide to do just that; he certainly flaunted his authority to do so around the office enough. But Wind knew one thing: they can’t cross today out, but they can redact a few dozen documents. And that was enough. “Positive. Hand the files over- we've got work to do.”

—

It’s a tricky thing- pretending to be fine. Until it isn’t. Their smile is a reflex. Their lies, sweet little things, mask the bitter truth buried deep inside them. It’s almost scary how easy it’s become.

Almost.

Gigi nearly crushes them next.

It starts with a playful hip check by the break room counter. Nothing more than a soft bump that Wind returns as a greeting. “You avoiding me, Velez?”

“Of course not,” they reply automatically. Not on purpose.

“Then why is this the first time I've seen you all day?”

The corners of Wind’s mouth pull upwards. “You’re exaggerating. Our offices are across from each other, glass windows and all.”

Gigi scoffs, a fond yet exasperated look on her face. “You know what I mean. How much work did Martin stick you with?”

Actually, he didn't. I asked for more. And I would've stayed in my office, but I physically can’t ignore the gurgling in my stomach with paperwork anymore. “Not much, really. Guess it’s just been one of those days.” There’s a part of them- the smallest, stupidest part- that wishes she, or anyone, could see through their cheery disposition. Lift the mask they’ve clutched onto for years.

It’s a hollow victory when she doesn’t.

“Tell me about it. Linda roped me into working on this painfully boring property dispute,” she complains.

“Think of it this way: maybe the land is haunted.” They wiggle their fingers spookily, throwing in a few ‘oo’s and ah’s’ for good measure.

“That would explain the urge to blow my brains out anytime I redraft these contracts.”

“Poor little Millie. She’s just trying to protect her property from the grave.”

Gigi stifles a laugh. “Millie?”

“Judging me only angers her spirit,” they retort, their own bout of laughter bubbling to the surface. A moment of silence passes between them before they both lose their resolve, dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“Whew, I needed that,” Gigi says, still chuckling.

They take a bow. “I’ll be here all week.”

“Perfect- just enough time for you to join me for lunch.”

“You’re shameless.” Despite their light ribbing, they still take a seat at the nearest table and begin to unpack their own lunch. A small break can’t hurt, right?

“I just prefer to have some entertainment with my lasagna,” she corrects in a light, teasing voice.

“You made lasagna?”

“Xo made lasagna. She's been cooking a lot more since her show wrapped.” The glow on her face at the mere mention of her wife is undeniable.

“Seems like you’re enjoying a lot more than her cooking lately,” they grin suggestively.

Her daze sharpens into a challenging glint in her eye, her smirk unwavering. “So what if I am?”

They raise their hands in surrender. “Then good for you, boo.”

“Mm, that’s what I thought,” she hums triumphantly as she walks over to the fridge. “Seriously, you’ve got to try some. It’s- oh damn it.”

“What is it?”

Gigi pulls out a large pink box and sets it on the table, slightly miffed. “Beau’s leftover birthday cake knocked over my containers. I told him no one but him likes coconut.”

Wind’s pulse quickened. It’s fine. You’re fine. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“How would you know? You couldn’t eat any because you’re allergic to coconut.”

They shrug. “It looked pretty.”

“Last time I let a man plan an event. I don’t care if it’s his birthday,” she mutters, more to herself than at them- too occupied with reconstructing her toppled lasagna with a pair of plastic forks. Wind turns their attention to their own lunch, a heaping portion of arroz con pollo, hoping to swallow down their bout of birthday-induced anxiety with each savory bite. It almost works.

They’re mid-bite when Gigi unknowingly moves in for the kill.

“I’ve decided,” she announces, sliding into the seat across from them.

“Hm?” It’s all they can manage to say with a mouthful of rice.

“I’m putting myself in charge of all birthday parties at the firm from here on out. Who better to plan a party than a party-lover like moi?” She cuts a piece of her lasagna with the side of her fork, still talking animatedly. “Ooh, I can start a group chat to organize any after-work festivities-”

“Mhm,” they hum along, trying to ignore the lump forming in their throat. It’s fine. You’re fine. Their eyes fixate on the grains of rice stuck to their spoon. Three on the front. Two on the back. Three on the front. Two on the back. Three on-

“Wind? You still with me, boo?”

Their head snaps up, only realizing now that they had tuned out their friend. “Sorry- can you repeat that? I zoned out.”

Another smile. Another lie. But it’s enough.

“I asked what kind of cake you like,” Gigi repeats.

“Oh- uh… I’m fine with anything, really. As long as it’s not coconut for obvious reasons.”

“C’mon, everyone has a favorite. Lemmie guess, you’re a cheesecake girl, aren’t you? No wait- red velvet.”

They force out a chuckle. “You got me. I love a good red velvet.”

Gigi’s eyes narrow, assessing them like she would a witness on trial. “You’re just being nice, aren’t you?”

“I-I’m not! I really love red velvet,” they reassure her, but to no avail. She only shakes her head, leaning back into her chair.

“I’ll figure you out eventually, Velez. Cake preference is a science. And I just so happen to be a mad scientist.”

“You really don’t have to put that much effort into this, Gi.”

“The hell I don’t! There’s no way I’m going to plan a subpar birthday party for one of my best friends. When is your birthday anyways? Before you judge me for not knowing, I did try. I just couldn’t find it listed on any of your socials.”

Her determination in any other context would flood their chest with a friendly warmth. But now it pierces through their ribcage, sending their heart into an unwanted frenzy- its beat pounding in their ears.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

It’s fine. You’re-

It’s-

They stand abruptly, the chair behind them screeching against the floorboards. “I need to go.”

Gigi glances down, concern etching onto her features. “But you’ve barely eaten anything.”

“There’s a call I’m expecting from one of my clients. Can’t miss it,” they explain, hastily packing away their food. “Let’s catch up later, yeah?”

Another smile. Another lie. But this time, they don’t stick around long enough to know if it’s enough.

—

Calm. They need to stay calm. Yet the air grows thinner and thinner until Wind is gasping, pulling at their collar in a feeble attempt to ease the tightness coiling around their throat. Everything is too loud. Too bright. Too exposed.

On their first day at McGraw Byrne, Wind marveled at the grandness of it all. How its name glimmered as rays of golden light shone through the floor to ceiling windows, hitting the platinum just right. How every hallway felt like a brand new world waiting to be explored. But now? Now there is no glimmer. No hallways left to be discovered. Only a crushing weight resting atop their chest.

Forget calm. They need to hide.

Wind shuts the door behind them, then the blinds to their windows. It’s a small shield, so they strengthen their armor. Soft, pillowy cushions cover their ears, silencing the wars raging outside. A dark quiet descends over them. Not quite calm, but numb. Numb lets them breathe. Slow their tired, weary heart from running rampant. Here, underneath a cherry wood desk, they can rest.

—

The thing about a closed door is that it can always be opened.

So Martin does just that.

He strides in without any warning, preoccupied with typing out a quick response to yet another email, all while hoping to find a certain report waiting in his inbox. “Velez, I need an update on Landon.” Three more notifications- nothing of any true significance, but it gains his attention nonetheless.

Eyes glued to the screen, Martin doesn’t register the empty office chair in front of him. “I don’t have all day,” he huffs out, already bracing himself for whatever teasing remark Wind has in store for him. But none come. To his surprise, instead of a toothy grin, he sees a pair of pink heels carelessly kicked off to the side.

Martin pockets his phone and takes a cautious step forward. “Velez?”

A pitiful sniffle, amplified by the stillness of the room, hits his ears, freezing him in place. Part of him weighs the merits behind turning around. Then he hears it again- that sorrowful hitch in Wind’s breath- and before he even realizes it, he is by their side.

Months of working alongside each other allowed Martin to experience the many sides of Wind. Infuriatingly righteous. Overly-energetic. Perplexingly kind. Wind got under his skin- crept inside and made it impossible to stay away. None of that prepared him to witness them like this- curled up underneath their desk, unwilling to even look at him.

At a loss, he simply asks, “What are you doing down there?”

A few harrowing seconds pass before they mumble a reply. “Hiding.”

“From whom?”

“Just… from today.”

Martin hums in acknowledgement, unsure how to take that answer. “How long have you been hiding?” They give a weak shrug. “Can you at least tell me why?” He waits, more than he should’ve, then sighs. “Go home, Velez.”

Wind snaps their head up. “W-what?”

“I said go home.”

“Y-you… you can’t do that!”

“I can and I am. Clearly, you’re incapable of-”

“-I’m plenty capable-”

“-You’re under a table.” He chooses not to mention the redness in their eyes or how they shine with unshed tears.

“I- I can…” Wind sputters, their voice no higher than a whisper, “I can do it.”

“I’d have an easier time believing that if you weren’t mid-cower.”

“I’m not-” Martin cocks his eyebrow, effectively killing their argument. “This isn’t any of your concern. So just leave me be.”

“Not my concern?” he scoffs, almost in disbelief. “As your supervisor, I’d have to firmly disagree. I’m responsible for your successes and your screw ups. And I work very hard to mitigate the latter. So, I’m asking you again. What’s this about?”

“It’s… personal.” Martin folds his arms, indicating them to elaborate. But much to his dismay, they don’t. He peers down at them, searching for something. The infuriatingly righteous. The overly-energetic. The perplexingly kind. Something he can work with. It’s surprisingly disappointing when his search comes up as empty as Wind’s chair.

“Send whatever you have on Landon to Aislinn. She’ll be taking point for the remainder of this case.”

“But-”

“Save your breath, Velez. You can sort out whatever it is you’re dealing with now or never. I don’t care. You just can’t be here.”

—

Wind trods through the city past several storefronts and food carts, crestfallen. Their aimless journey eventually leads them to a random dive bar- the perfect location to get good and drunk. Its unassuming exterior paled in comparison to its rich interior. Spacious, yet cozy.

An unoccupied podium greets them at the entrance. “Hello?” Their voice travels beyond the stacked chairs and strings of exposed lightbulbs casting a golden glow over the room. A few minutes go by before they try calling out again. “Hi, are y’all open?”

They venture further inside, ignoring the big, bold letters indicating patrons to ‘please wait to be seated.’ A plethora of memories line its walls. Polaroids of patrons captured in various states of inebriation- all in good fun, they figure. Along with those are news clippings throughout the years, most of which feature the NYPD in some capacity.

“I bought every copy of that issue.” Wind yelps, coming face to face with an older man. The faint lines on his bronze skin deepen as his face stretches into a friendly smile. He points at one of the officers pictured. “This one’s my niece, Cameron.”

They take a closer look at the photo. Despite its grainy quality, Wind can see the resemblance between the two. Same brown eyes. Same round nose. Her skin, however, is about three shades darker than her uncle’s. Youthful. “She looks beautiful.”

“I like to think so,” he says, pride beaming from his features. “She’s always begging me to take this one down, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Ya only graduate from the academy once, y’know?”

They nod politely. “Sorry for walkin’ in like this.”

“The sign’s flipped to open, even if we don’t look like it,” he chuckles. “Grab a seat, I’ll be right with ya.” Wind slides into an empty bar stool while he makes his way behind the counter. After rummaging through a few drawers, he pulls out a menu. “Ha! I knew I kept a few back here.”

“Thank you.” They skim through the appetizers, not retaining much.

“I promise, if ya catch us during our peak hours, we’re more lively. Anyways, welcome to The Drunk Tank. I’m Tommy- owner, bartender, and your server for today. Most of our food items won’t be available till our cook arrives, but I can try to whip up something simple if you’d like.”

“That’s alright. I only came in for a drink.”

“Perfect. What’s your poison?”

“Whatever’s strongest. Neat,” they answer flatly.

Understanding flashes through Tommy’s face. He works with silent precision, pouring a long stream of amber liquor into a glass. “Here ya go. Spirits to lift the spirit.”

Wind raises their drink to him before throwing it back in one gulp. The burn is immediate, slithering down to their chest and warming them from within. “Hah,” they wince, wiping the stray droplets from their chin. “I’ll have another.”

Tommy’s eyebrows jump, unable to conceal his shock, but he complies and slides over another shot. It goes down just as quickly. This process repeats two more times before he finally pulls the plug. “Why don’t we pace ourselves for a bit? Happy hour doesn’t start for another thirty minutes. Save yourself a few bucks.”

“Money’s not an issue,” they say, their words slightly slurred.

“Alright, I’ll level with ya. I’m not as concerned about your wallet as I am about any ‘accidents’ I may need to clean up.”

They huff out a hollow laugh. “I can hold my liquor, promise.”

“Just indulge me and drink some water.”

“Fine,” they grumble, taking a tentative sip from a much taller glass.

“Ya wanna talk about it?”

“Huh?”

“Ya wanna talk?”

“About what?”

“Anything. The weather- the Yankees- oh, I can show ya my collection of wine corks.”

“That’s… okay.” They gulp down the rest of their water, casting a hopeful glance at him, then at their empty shot glass.

He purses their lips, thinking. “Tell ya what- I’ll pour another shot if ya tell me one thing about yourself.”

Their eyes narrow at his deal, but his face remains steady. Fine, they can play along for now. “My name’s Wind.”

A quiet grin spreads on his face. “I was hoping to hear about a hobby or something.”

“A deal’s a deal.”

Tommy raises his hands in surrender. “That it is.” He serves another shot, which doesn’t last very long. “I like baseball, if ya couldn’t tell,” he jokes, gesturing to the several pieces of baseball memorabilia displayed.

“You play?”

His belly shakes with laughter. “Not well, I’m afraid. My ol’ man still put me in Little League, though, right next to my brother. I was one hell of a benchwarmer.”

“How ‘bout your brother?”

“Oh, that asshole? He was a mini prodigy. Bastard went on to play varsity. Won the state championship and everything.” Despite his light, jovial tone, Wind notices the distant look in his eyes.

“... And now?”

There’s a brief pause before he answers. “He doesn't play much of anything anymore.”

“What happened?”

His lip twitches upward with a smile that’s not all there. Dimmer than the one he first met them with. “I’ll need a few drinks before ya pull that story outta me.”

“Sorry,” they apologize quickly, “I didn’t-”

“No- you’re fine. Just felt like talking ‘s all.” He busies himself by wiping down the bar with a towel. “Ya don’t need to tell me anything, but a word to the wise: it feels a helluva lot better when you finally let it all out.”

Wind stares at him, their thoughts- all the pain, anger, and confusion threatening to spill out of them like a faucet. Kind brown eyes stare back with a patience that says, ‘Everything’s gonna be alright,’ without uttering a word. “Well, I-”

“Pop some champagne, Tito. I just got promoted!” They both startle in place. A woman strolls up to the bar, carrying a faint scent of ginger and citrus as she approaches. Wind’s eyes immediately flick to the golden snake adorning her neck, drawn by its intimidating beauty.

“Nini! That’s wonderful,” Tommy rejoices, clapping her on the shoulder like an old friend.

“I know. Now, where’s that champagne?”

“Hold on, I’ve got some in the back.” He moves to grab a bottle, but stops in his tracks when he sees them. “Oh- I’m sorry, Wind. You were about to say something.”

They shake their head. “No- actually, I should head out.”

“Stay for the toast at least.”

“Are you serious?” the woman complains.

“Yes,” Tommy hisses at her underneath his breath, which to Wind’s surprise, is all it takes for her to stand down.

“Alright,” she concedes, peering at them through her curled lashes. “Enjoy it, blondie. I’m usually not this generous, but today is a celebration. Consider it an early birthday gift.”

Their body seizes up. “What?”

“Or a late one. Not like I’d know the difference anyway. It’s no cake, but it’ll do.”

Glass shatters. A cacophony of shrieks and curses follows. Wind registers nothing- lost to fragments from the past. Their senses recall the piercing sound of their baby brother’s inconsolable wails. The desperation in their father’s pleas. They remember the cool tile on their knees- how sticky their tiny fingers became with pink frosting as they tried to push chunks of uneaten cake back together, ignoring the shards of fine china mixed throughout. All the while, their mother’s broken voice pounds within their ears. A haunting chant they can never forget.

“No puedo más- no puedo más- no puedo más-”

“Ya alright, pal?” Tommy’s worry warbles through their nightmarish haze.

“This fucking idiot got glass everywhere.”

“Ay, Nini- just grab the broom. It’s in the back. Oh- and the first aid kit.”

First aid kit? They glance down- mortified by the crimson stains on their sleeves. “Oh God-”

“Hey, take it easy-”

“NO-” Their sudden outburst sends them back several feet. “I- I need to- I need to go.”

“Hold on-”

Tommy’s words fall on deaf ears, or rather, no ears. They’re gone in a flash. No warning. No goodbye.

Just like Mamá.

---

tag list: @choicesmc, @win-chan, @brycesgirl, @stars-are-within-me, @inlocusmads

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air-mechanical · 8 months

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Consider all of the TIE fighters lost. Mark their captain for a citation.

This is why Thrawn's people are so loyal to him. He'll deploy his troops when needed - he'll spend his resources without regret so long as something can be purchased with them - and will honour them if they don't return home. They will be remembered. This was important for his people and for Thrawn himself pre-exile. But for the critically low numbers currently aboard The Chimaera In Exile, it's critical.

#because of course Thrawn's crew will volunteer to become zombie troopers for him #thrawn #everyone knows they're not doing it for the empire #ahsoka series #star wars #no lie I wanted the tie pilots to survive. a deluded wish I know #I genuinely thought enoch would get killed off so Thank You for keeping him around #it was too much to get some backstory for him of course. but continued living is accepted with gratitude #fic writing it is then #captain enoch #enoch #enoch arranging the citation in whatever form that takes #something to show belonging to the empire as a whole but with 1. a tie pilot element and 2. an exile element #brushstrokes of individuality within the machine

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choicesficwriterscreations · 9 months

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CFWC FotW - August 20-26, 2023

Ⓜ️ = Adult/Mature Content 18+ 🔥 = Explicit Material/NSFW 18+ 📱= Text Fics/Edits 🎨= Includes Fanart

BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

Chosen by Light | Mal Volari x F!MC - @storyofmychoices

CRIMES OF PASSION

Crimes Drabble | Trystan Thorne x MC - @lilyoffandoms

Save it for Desert | m! Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @a-cloud-for-dreams 📱

Take Me Out | m! Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @jerzwriter 🎨

Tides of Change | f! Trystan Thorne x Juliana Grogescu, Sebastian Thorne x Juliana Grogescu - @coffeeheartaddict2 Ⓜ️

IMMORTAL DESIRES

Snow in Crimson, Starlight in Gold (Series) | m! Cas Harlow x m! Gabriel Adalhard x nb!MC - @aria-ashryver Chapter 35: Sink Your Teeth In, Part 2 Ⓜ️

IT LIVES WITHIN

Love by Any Other Name (1 / 4) | Amalia de Leon x F!MC - @professor-abeloved

OPEN HEART

RED CARPET DIARIES

That Boleyn Girl (Part 1/2) | Thomas Hunt x F!MC - @tveitertotwrites

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

Baking Memories | Liam Rhys, Constantine Rhys - @kristinamae093

Black Silk (Series) | Liam Rhys x F!OC, Drake Walker x F!OC - @aussiegurl1234 Chapter 16: The Steer Ⓜ️

Can't Take My Eyes Off You (Series) | Bertrand Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis - @alj4890 Chapter 3: Olivia's Ballroom

Mosquito | Maxwell Beaumont x MC - @chocopeppermintcake

The Royal Heir's Royal Romance | Drake Walker x MC, Royal Heir x OC - @whatisreggieshortfor

...Sometimes Not (Series) | Liam Rys x F!OC - @ao719 Part 8: Turn a Blind Eye

Through Hell & Back (Series) | Olivia Nevrakis x Anton Severus - @queenmiarys Part 1: First Impressions

Turning the Page (Series) | Liam Rys x F!MC - @tessa-liam Chapter 2: The Sacrifice Ⓜ️

#choices fanfic #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #blades of light and shadow #crimes of passion #it lives within #open heart #red carpet diaries #the royal romance #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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daryldamnson · 1 year

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made a wish on elevens - historical royal au

summary: eddie’s a servant. he knows what that means. he knows he can’t have you. he loves you anyway. fem!reader, hardcore pining

unoffically made this for yearoftheotpevent's 2023 thing because i'm not actually taking part but i really liked the idea so i picked january: historical au

word count: 1k

title from wish on an eyelash by mallrat

“Is it so wrong? Wishing to love and be loved in return?”

You remain oblivious to the sad, lovelorn stare levelled at you as you sigh quietly, gaze roving over the hills in the distance as you continue to muse.

“Perhaps not wrong, I suppose… Just silly. A naive wish I thought I’d long grown out of.” You glance over at him and flash a dry smile. “Apparently not.”

“You knew the day approached, My Lady.” Eddie speaks softly, wary of slipping up and speaking out of turn, especially within the walls of the castle. “Surely it does not come as a shock to you?”

“I don’t know, I…. I suppose I never truly thought it through until today. Or, rather, I did and simply hoped I may grow to love the man chosen for me.” You let out an amused huff of air, shaking your head. “Or, Gods, even like him. Is a fondness for my husband really so strange a wish?”

“Of course not, My Lady.” And then, because apparently he’s a masochist, “You don’t believe you may form affection for Lord Hargrove?”

Your eyes flick over to him and he can’t help the soft breath of laughter that escapes him at your expression.

“That awful?”

“And more. Gods, Eddie, you should’ve heard the way he spoke to his footman. And Robin when she served his drink ‘from the wrong side’ - honestly! He has also clearly never had to use the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ before, which is a minor indictment on his list of offences, I assure you, but I find it enraging all the same. And - stop laughing at me!”

Even as you admonish him for his stifled laughter a bright smile grows on your face and a few giggles of your own slip through. He’s not always entirely sure how he does it - though he certainly puts on the show of a jester sometimes just for your sake - but Eddie loves making you smile like that.

He shouldn’t, he knows that. It’s wrong. You’re a Lady and he’s lucky to even work in the castle, let alone harbour affections towards… It’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s wrong.

Eddie tries his hardest to convince himself, but how can his - usually successful - attempts at bringing such a lovely smile to your face be anything but right and good?

Your laughter fades out but there’s a happy quirk to your lips that remains so Eddie takes this as a success.

“I’m truly serious, Eddie, he…” You shake your head, almost baffled-looking. “I cannot imagine having to marry a person like that. Basic decency should never be an optional trait - certainly not in someone I’m to spend my life with or trust to look after my people. I had hoped… I don’t know, that I could at least be friends with my betrothed. Best friends, preferably. I mean, is that not the point? Are we not supposed to get along? Make each other happy? Want to spend time together? I don’t believe any of those things could be true if I were to marry that selfish, tactless, inconsiderate brute.”

Your weary sigh and freshly returned frown weighs heavily on his chest, and he finds himself scrambling for something to reassure you with. But nothing appears - what can you say to a woman destined to marry someone not of her own choosing?

Marry me instead, a voice echoes in his head. I would make you happy, or try my best to. I would be devoted to you for the rest of my life - I will be anyway, no matter whom you marry. Please. Just consider me. I love you, I love you, I love you.

No. He certainly can’t say that.

“I am sorry, My Lady,” he lands on, pouring sympathy into his tone as your gaze lands on him once again.

There’s a comfortable pause before you speak, holding eye contact as you grace him with another gentle smile. Eddie hopes he isn’t imagining the fondness in your eyes or your tone.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“For what? I hardly provided useful council.”

“For listening. For always… Always listening and letting me ramble on at you. I’m forever grateful. You truly are my best friend.”

Your hand rises and hovers near his arm, a ghost of a smile flitting across your lips as you pull away, both of you distinctly aware of what the ramifications of you touching a male servant in such a familiar way would be.

Eddie would suffer for it, and you won’t stand for that. Sometimes he thinks it would be worth it, but were he banished or imprisoned he’d never see you again so he has to admit he’s infinitely grateful for your stronger willpower.

The sudden appearance of Robin causes you to take another step back from him and Eddie finds himself mourning the loss. Even more so when she informs you that your mother is requesting your presence and you let out a long-suffering sigh as you turn to follow her.

You exchange a parting glance, Eddie dipping into a gentle bow as you walk past, and it’s not until you’re halfway down the hallway before you look over your shoulder to see him watching you leave.

“Wish me luck that the next is more tolerable!”

He can’t call down the hall at that volume the way you can lest he be punished, but he does mutter “good luck, My Lady,” under his breath for you.

Because as much as he longs for you to return his feelings, you are more important. You will undoubtedly be marrying a man of your own stature, and Eddie loves you too much to wish you anything but pure happiness, even if that is found with someone else. Even when it would break his heart.

Eddie would happily wish for it to be torn to pieces if only to ensure you a contented life.

The heavy doors close behind you and Eddie turns to look out of the same window you had occupied only moments before.

He allows himself one moment to let his thoughts of you swirl through his mind before he closes the lid once more and turns to walk in the opposite direction, off to complete the duties of a lowly manservant you would never be allowed to marry.

requests are open but no promises i just go where the inspo takes me

p.s. it was no accident that reader said she wanted to marry her best friend and then called eddie her best friend two minutes later, eddie thinks it's unrequited but he's dumb ♡

#so in my head eddie moved to live with wayne who worked in/around the castle when you were both around 7 and you were friends in a way that #wasn't frowned upon at that age but then you got older and people started to tell you both how wrong it was and how far beneath you he was #so it became a secret friendship where everyone knows you still talk a little too much for a servant and a lady but it's within the #realms of acceptable so you get away with it but what they don't know is that you frequently sneak out and meet up in town away from the #castle walls that seem to have eyes #also hopper is like the leader of the knights and helps you sneak out i dont make the rules that just is fact the kind of knight he'd be #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #kind of #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things fic #eddie munson x female reader #historical au #royal au #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #pretty little loserboy #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson historical au #eddie munson royal au #stranger things historical au

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