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ittybluebell · 3 months

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Roommate | Daredevil G/T | Chapter 1

AO3

Matt Murdock didn't have anything against mice. He'd never been personally harrassed by one, but he understood the need to get rid of them. One easily turned into a dozen and with all the mess and digging into food, eviction was necessary. Despite how many rodents he heard daily, it wasn't something he thought about. The only reason mice were on his mind now was because one had moved into the floor, and he could hear it moving around as he laid in bed.

Now, like he said, Matt didn't have anything against mice.

Scrtch-scrtch-tick.

This one, however, was pushing its luck.

It showed up one night, moving in when he was out vigilante-ing and he only noticed the next day. At first, he didn't care. It was alone and hadn't yet realized there was food in his apartment. He had other, more pressing issues than a single mouse. It was a benign little thing - hardly a problem. Most nights, he could ignore the pitter-pattering and scraping or put in his noise-canceling earbuds.

Tonight, the mouse was too loud for earbuds. As he tossed and turned, Matt fumed, wondering what that rodent could possibly be up to. Rearranging furniture? Fuck, it sounded like it. Little mouse furniture.

Enough was enough. Matt threw a pillow at the floor and told the thing to shut up. To his surprise, it did. Matt sighed and finally went to sleep.

From that night on, he noticed a drastic decline in his downstairs neighbor's noise pollution.

How silly it was, Matt thought during a good mood, holding a grudge toward an animal. Especially one that was polite enough to let him sleep in peace.

Oh, how naïve he was.

The mouse quickly reinstated its grudge status when Matt noticed things going missing. It started with the bagels - a hole in the bag he noticed because the scent of bagel was particularly strong. Upon investigation, he discovered there was a complete lack of crumbs. And a chunk discreetly chewed from the middle. From there, things escalated. He smelled the shift in the air, smelled the remnants of another living being in his apartment. Little objects went missing - things even a seeing person might miss. But not Matt Murdock.

The sock was the last straw.

"What's the best bait for mouse traps?" Matt asked as soon as he entered the office.

"Cheese?" Foggy answered, confused. "Why? Do you have mice?"

"One. One mouse."

"How d- nevermind. Let me guess - you can't sleep."

"It's taking my stuff."

Foggy laughed. Karen huffed.

"At least tell me you're using non-lethal," said Karen. Upon his silence, she aww'd sadly. "Matt, no. It's just a mouse. You can't kill it."

"They're pests," said Foggy.

"But they're so cute. It just wants a place to live."

"Karen-" started Matt.

"No, no, she's got a point." Foggy spun his chair around. "Matt, you can't kill it! So cute and fuzzy!"

The lawyer-by-day, vigilante-by-night groaned. "Fine, I won't. Just stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Foggy, I can feel your eyes fake-tearing up."

Matt bought some glue traps and baited them with peanut butter. When Karen told him glue traps were worse - "They're so inhumane, Matt!" - he assured her that he'd know when the mouse got stuck; it wouldn't suffer. As much as the thing annoyed him, Karen was right: he wasn't going to abandon his no-killing rule for one mouse. (One mouse that must have a vendetta against him. He would not stoop to its level.) What kind of hypocrite would he be, huh?

The traps were set. Now to wait.

And wait.

A week passed. No mouse was caught. When he listened to its movement, he realized it was avoiding the spots he'd trapped. Avoiding the usual routes.

Smart. For a rodent. But Matt was smarter.

More traps, different bait. Traps disguised as the food and objects he'd noticed go missing, even the mate to his missing sock. It couldn't resist now.

Days passed.

Evidently, it could resist.

Foggy teased him about being outsmarted by an animal. Karen was on the mouse's side. Somebody must've told Jessica because he got a condescending text offering her services. Traitors, every one of them.

It all came to a head one terrible Friday night. Matt was already in a bad mood when he got home from work but going out, hearing and feeling New York City, pushed him over the edge. He was annoyed, his brain was overstimulated, and he just wanted to rest. The rooftop access door shut behind him and he threw his helmet into its trunk, about to shed the rest when the distinct sound of scratching and plastic crinkling in the kitchen cupboard caught his ear.

Matt stilled. It was here.

He marched with purpose toward the sounds.

That little bastard wasn't getting away this time. Catching it would be a satisfying end to a crappy day.

The mouse started fleeing before he was even close. It was headed for the other end of the cupboards - a hole in the floor Matt wasn't aware of but now could sense the air flowing from within. He'd have to seal that in the mor-

Mice didn't run on two legs.

Matt cocked his head, listening to the pattern of footfalls. He'd never cared to pay attention, but now it was impossible to miss. He knew what scurrying rodents sounded like. Whatever was in his kitchen, it was no rodent. It was bipedal. A bird? No, not with that speed. Not with that gait. He needed a closer examination.

Matt threw open the cupboard door. The first thing to hit his senses was the scent of corn chips.

The second was the heartbeat.

The creature's heart pounded swiftly in its chest. Air rushed from a mouth that was too upright for any kind of animal, a nose too humanlike. Small shoes hit the baseboard as it ran. Fabric rustled the same way he heard every single day in the street - like clothing.

Matt got lower, needing to be closer, needing to examine this little anomaly. How it moved, how it sounded, how uncannily familiar it was.

The living shape that his senses created was so alike to people that he was too shocked to outwardly react.

The little thing escaped into the floor, and Matt Murdock was left crouching there. Slowly, he shut the door. He took off the suit, dressed his wounds, and went to bed, his mind racing.

His body was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Not when he was tracking the creature's movements. Every scrape, every soft thud of a step, the whisper-

Whispering?

"You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way…"

Whispering. Okay.

Matt pretended he didn't hear anything and put in his earbuds. That was a tomorrow-Matt problem.

Unfortunately for tomorrow-Matt, another problem knocked on his door first. That problem rhymed with Stank Hassle and didn't like to be ignored. Frank did offer coffee when they left so at least it wasn't a total bust. It was a good opportunity to get Matt out of his head; to get a clear perspective of the night before. Matt decided he was exhausted and hallucinating. The alternative was a tiny person living in the walls of his apartment. Delusion was easier.

Delusion was also what kept the borrower from abandoning the apartment altogether.

Call them stubborn, or stupid, but Finch didn't want to leave. Borrowers could only get so lucky. Landing a decent apartment with an oblivious bean was a rare opportunity, and Finch had no intention of giving it up. They would use this good fortune. Even if they didn't deserve it.

Finch shook off the guilt following that thought.

They spent the first week setting up: finding a place to sleep and tidying it up, living off the rations they packed. They got a lay of the land, surveying the apartment and its infrastructure. The excessively bright billboard directly in front of the living room window, the kitchen, and - most importantly - the bean. Light - or lack thereof - was never an issue for him. Not once did he flip a switch or so much as use his phone, which read texts aloud to him. He hardly looked at whatever claimed his attention. Everything added up to limited vision, but they couldn't be sure. It was safest not to risk any assumptions.

Evidence pointed to some damn good hearing when Finch was carving planks of wood out of the floor's innards. They were minding their own business, content with their repetitive, calming task, when something large and loud impacted the ceiling a dozen paces away.

The borrower nearly jumped out of their overalls, giving a startled squeak.

"Shut up," yelled the muffled voice above.

Pretending their soul wasn't just violently expelled from their body, Finch smoothed down their curly brown hair and exhaled shakily, making a mental note to postpone noisy work till the bean was away.

And they did good on that: when the bean was home, Finch completed the quieter, slower tasks. They thought they'd discovered the formula for living under the radar, satisfied to have found a routine that worked.

Then the traps appeared. Finch cursed their luck. The jig was up. The bean set up gross glue traps in outer access points, a couple even getting to the paths Finch took. Finch avoided them and laid low for a bit, hoping the lack of activity would convince the bean they'd skipped town. But more traps appeared. Smart ones, too - they almost fell for a couple. Now, Finch knew a thing or two about a thing or two. They made new routes and took extra care when borrowing. They even started mapping paths to the apartments below. Despite their small stature, Finch had a lot of room for determination. After a life of sticking their hand in the fire, they learned to take the heat. If the bean wanted them gone, he'd have to try a lot harder.

Night fell. The bean was gone. He followed routines - ones he scarcely strayed from. It would be hours before his return.

Finch made their way to the kitchen. They pushed up the trapdoor and strolled through the cupboard. They still had to be careful: just because the human wasn't home didn't mean they could throw all caution to the wind. Leaving evidence was a massive negatory. Finch didn't care for stupid rules, but the rules of borrowing were locked in their brain. They were already careless with the bagels, something they couldn't afford again. Desperation wasn't an excuse for sloppy borrowing - not when it exposed them.

Finch observed the boxes and containers around them, reading labels and calculating risk and reward. There was no chance of getting into that cereal box, but the nutrition bars would be a good grab. The box was short and already open. Finch pushed a can of tuna against it and hopped on. They began extracting a bar only to realize they had no way of getting something so large home without a sled.

"No, that'd be too easy." With a huff, Finch dropped it and shoved the can back into place. "'cause food can never be-" plastic crinkled under their foot "-easy?" Finch inspected the blue packaging. It was an open bag of tortilla chips. They grinned.

The scent of corn chips filled the space as Finch unfurled the bag. They dropped their backpack and started breaking the triangular chips into smaller pieces. Salt-free, too? Hell, yes. They tested the backpack's weight, put a bit more inside, then pulled the strings tight. They slung the strap across their chest. Oh, yeah, this would last them a good while. Finch fought with the chip bag, trying to roll the top underneath like it was before.

"Come on. Stupid fuckin'-" They tried to simultaneously lift the heavy bag and pull the other end.

Over the sounds of plastic popping and crackling in their ears, Finch didn't hear a door open and shut.

DOOM.

They did, however…

DOOM.

…feel the approaching footsteps of the human bean.

Finch froze. Blue eyes snapped wide open, their head flinching away from the plastic. It couldn't be...

Finch bolted.

He's supposed to be out why is he back-

DOOM.

They didn't need to know why he was back - just that he was and he was approaching at an alarming rate.

DOOM.

Oh, fuck, that's actually really close-

The doors ripped open. The hinges didn't even get a chance to squeak.

Finch stumbled. Air caught in their throat. For a moment, Finch was rooted to the floor. Just a moment. Long enough to see the human's form towering beyond the counter, covered in some kind of dark red leather. Long enough to see boots more than capable of squishing the life out of them.

Legs like fenceposts bent as the human came unbelievably closer. Closer than Finch had ever been to a bean. A giant face suspended above them, features blank and expressionless. Not once did the bean look at them.

Finch ran. They didn't look back. When they reached the hole in the floor, they plugged it up and kept going. Keep running.

Only when they reached the safety of their shelter did they falter.

"Oh, shit," they gasped, resting their weight on a nearby post. If their heart didn't outright stop, they were sure it might burst from their ribcage. Finch felt that exploding was a reasonable response. "He didn't see me." The scene replayed in their mind, over and over like a glitched tape. "I'm fine. You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way he saw you. Just breathe."

Delusion, like they said. It was a powerful thing. It pulled many tricks on the mind. Like convincing oneself that they weren't discovered.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet, one might even say, if they weren't one Matt Murdock. He never got that phrase. Nothing was 'too quiet'. In his - correct - opinion, nothing was quiet enough. There was always something creaking, breathing, or thumping, even in the smallest hours of the night. But on some front he had to agree: there was a suspicious lack of activity from the critter in the floor lately. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he couldn't deny that it wasn't an animal. Animals didn't mutter to themselves, in full sentences, in English. He wasn't mentally, emotionally, or spiritually prepared to assess beyond whatever that meant. In the moments his mind wandered, however - such as now, sitting and listening to a recording for his current case - he found himself pondering the tiny being regardless.

The peace wasn't an accident. Finch had been avoiding that place, giving themself and the air time to settle. They continued work on their residence, slotting together panels of wood and cardboard to form walls. One room would do for now - they just needed protection from the elements and potential scavengers slinking around. Skies above, if a cockroach tried anything, it was next on the menu. Grind up the little fucker into a smoothie. Finch wished a bug would: it'd be miles better than those godforsaken tortilla chips. Finch gave the wood posts they'd just secured a good push, nodding in satisfaction and moving on to the wall. It would be the last one to seal up their box of a house.

Four days. It'd been four days since Finch was nearly discovered; four days since they stared a bean in the face and got away unscathed. Four days since they got an answer to what they'd only suspected: the human couldn't see. That explained the brilliantly bright billboard, the sensitive hearing, the lack of lights - it explained a lot. Finch had to re-evaluate their approach to borrowing. This human would be extra careful about his possessions - the sock was proof enough - and notice what was out of place. In some ways, this both simplified and complicated things.

But borrowers were nothing if not adaptable.

Finch ventured up to a peephole in the wall and looked out. Nothing had changed except the bean now sitting at the dining table, papers and an electronic box neatly laid out on the tabletop. Casually dressed, he was listening to… a podcast? No, too personal. Finch liked podcasts. There was a crime involved, but this sounded like a conversation Finch would overhear more than something designed to entertain. So this bean worked in solving crimes. A detective?

They listened to the dry as hell audio a scant longer before growing bored and moving on. Hey, at least the bean was preoccupied.

Naturally, they found themself puttering toward the kitchen. Wielding two bent nails tied to their belt, Finch climbed up the cupboard door, using hinges and decorative bevels alike to hoist themself up. Those bagels were good. Were there any left? Nothing but corn chips really wore down a person's capacity to give a damn. They perused the counter, confident that the bean was sufficiently distracted by his work. Finch was disappointed to find the bagels sealed in an airtight container. It was their own fault, slicing up the bag so messily. They pulled a face and resumed their search.

A plate of mostly-eaten pasta sat before them. Fuck yes! Finch scuttled to it, pulling out rolls of tinfoil from their bag. Careful to avoid crinkling, they gathered up all the leftover noodles and sauce that would fit.

Finch squirreled away their haul, licking their fingers clean of evidence and ignorant of the man listening to their heist just a few metres away.

Matt stopped paying attention to the tape some time ago.

The sounds of Hell's Kitchen couldn't drown out the little inhabitant in his walls. A scent had blown into the room, vaguely familiar with hints of tortilla chip. He sat straighter and listened, idly shuffling papers and tip-tapping his fingers on the table. He found himself unable to be anything other than impressed as they scaled his counter like a mountain climber. Whatever was left from dinner became his visitor's latest plunder. That was fine; less waste, right?

He was disappointed when they returned to the walls. He wound back the recording to get some work done, but found himself consistently distracted by his small neighbour's goings-on. This discovery was just so unique, so strange - how could he not be curious? He heard them venture out again, across the apartment now. Into his bedroom. What could they be doing?

Oho, if Matt found any more socks missing-

He turned in his seat, about to rise, when he heard:

"You hafta to be shittin' me."

The voice, quiet in size only and bold beyond that, was the mildly annoyed tone of someone who'd been inconvenienced. Matt had heard it before, in the late hush of the night, when no one else would. Muttered curses and remarks that blended into the creaking and groaning of buildings and chatter and sirens of the city. One voice that Matt Murdock had tried very hard not to think too much about.

"When is enough too much, huh?" the voice griped. "Does he think I'm just gonna lay on one? 'Oh, felt silly today, stepped on the massive rug of glue.' How 'bout I drag this onto your floor, see how you feel walkin' in a minefield?" They growled. "UGH. Beans."

Well.

There was no denying it anymore, was there? A tiny person was living in the walls of Matt's apartment.

Matt leaned back, processing. He'd tried ignoring it - for the sake of his mental health and faith - because it was insane. It was impossible. It shouldn't be.

And yet…

Matt wanted - needed - to investigate further.

He got up, quietly, light on his feet. He didn't make it two steps before he heard a swear and the tiny person retreated once more. Into an electrical outlet, by the sounds of it.

Hm. He couldn't sneak up on them - not this time. They heard him- no. Matt quirked his head, considering. They felt him approaching. Like Matt, they could feel vibrations. Vibrations that alerted them of a threat. It only made sense.

Heh, 'threat'. Regular ol' Matt Murdock was the threat this time, not his alter ego. Wasn't that something?

The next time Matt encountered his new neighbour, he was trying - and failing - to fall asleep. There was too much on his mind for sleep. Frustrated, he huffed and flopped over, restless, his thoughts racing. Sounds of the city were extra distracting tonight. He considered getting up and making a cup of tea - maybe that would calm his mind.

Noises from the kitchen drew his scattered focus. He sat up, listening to the scuffing and tapping that he'd come to recognize as his uninvited houseguest. Three visits in one day. Were they always this proactive? Well, he did interrupt their attempted heist of his bedroom. Matt scooted to the edge of the bed. He would make that tea, actually. As he stood, he remembered sneaking didn't work last time. Right. Heavy-footed. However, he had a hunch that this attempt would yield a sneakier result.

Aided by socks, Matt softly padded through his apartment. Tiny - the name he assigned his little visitor - was fiddling with some kind of packaging on the top shelf. And as he got closer, lo and behold, they did not startle. His theory was correct: the further Tiny was from the floor, the weaker their pallesthesia became. Their ability to detect vibrations just wasn’t as sensitive as his own. Once he stepped foot into the kitchen, Matt dropped the Daredevil act and let himself be known. He grabbed a mug and turned on the kettle. Tiny's pulse quickened; their breath hitched. He gave them time to hide before he opened the cupboard for a tea bag. He quickly realized the box wasn't in its usual spot - his own doing, unfortunately.

"Stupid tea bags," he muttered for Tiny's sake; an 'I'm not looking for you, I swear!' assurance as he searched the cabinets. For extra sauce, he added, "Always misplacing them."

Would he forgo tea? He did start the kettle… as much as he got a kick out of playing the part of oblivious blind guy, causing Tiny undue terror wasn't his end goal. He wanted to test them, their cockiness, not scare them. Tiny may be a thief, but they were just trying to survive. Why else was food their number one haul? Matt dedicated his life to helping people in need. Wasn't Tiny part of that demographic? Weren't they someone in need? Unless small people were running drug cartels and trafficking rings, Tiny was innocent.

Doubt and guilt crept in. Maybe he was pushing the bit too far.

Matt was just about to get up and leave when something square and coarse pressed into his fingers.

He faltered, then pinched it, rubbing his thumb over the material. Its strong, earthy scent gave it away.

A tea bag.

Small shoes lightly retreated. Matt withdrew his hand. He held the sachet of dried herbs, cogs turning in his mind. He tilted his head.

Tiny handed him a tea bag. That…

Matt found himself puzzled and oddly touched. It was for their own good, to avoid getting found, but he couldn't not appreciate the nice gesture. He easily smelt where the tea was, of course. But Tiny didn't know that. Huh.

Maybe he was being too harsh about the sock.

The kettle's bubbling pitch rose to a squeal. Wincing, Matt shut it off. He dropped the tea bag into the mug and poured steaming water over it.

What a strange experience. He wondered what Tiny was thinking. Their heartbeat eased into the fluttering pace that he learned was its resting rate. It was the trait that had him most convinced his roommate was a rodent of some sort, though the way they squeaked when startled was a close second.

Matt threw out the tea bag and took the mug to his room, leaving Tiny to their task.

The next day, he casually slipped questions about tiny people into a conversation with Foggy. (It was not casual and quite random, actually.)

"You mean, like… fairies?" Foggy cautiously asked.

Sort of? Matt didn't know whether Tiny could be considered a fairy. They certainly didn't seem like the fairy type, not with the kind of language he heard them utter. Did fairies say 'fuck'? Would that break some kind of fairy law?

Karen told him about a book series that she'd been obsessed with as a kid: it contained many smaller magical beings. Brownies, for instance. Matt settled on definitely not that one. What favours was he receiving? Aside from the tea bag - an isolated incident - absolutely none.

Matt wasn't convinced they were a magical creature. Really, they just… seemed like a normal person, albeit smaller. They hummed to themself, snickered at their own dumb jokes, and swore a hot streak that would impress even Castle and Jones. Matt was pretty damn sure they'd been building a house under his floor, though he noticed all the loud busywork was put on pause when he was home, most notably when he was sleeping. Another nice gesture that was also for their own self-preservation.

Maybe they were a mutant. Or maybe they were mutated, like him.

When Matt got home, he discarded the glue traps. It felt wrong to leave them now that he knew it was a person he'd been trying to catch. Guilty, he started leaving crumbs in easy-to-reach locations. It wouldn’t hurt him any - his grocery budget wasn’t gonna tank because of some scraps. If chips and leftovers were what they were after, then they had free reign over the countertop. That didn’t stop him from being cheeky about it, though - if Tiny was getting confident, he might as well play along.

He found Tiny’s courage something to marvel at. Roaming a giant’s home? Without fear? His vigilante persona was literally named Daredevil and he was impressed.

However, bravery and foolishness were not mutually exclusive. That’s when the cockiness came in.

Matt was minding his business, washing the dishes, when Tiny wandered out. Brows hitching up, he continued sponging the plate. Surely, they wouldn't-

Oh, but they did.

Unwavering, Tiny climbed up the counter they same way as before. They walked up to the pan on the stove and hooked a leg over. Matt fought hard not to chuffle. This was getting out of hand. Matt remembered an adage about not feeding animals or else they'd grow dependent. Had Matt inadvertently done exactly that? Animals that were accustomed to people often didn't see the danger. Tiny was certainly no animal, but the absence of caution they displayed in the moment was, frankly, ridiculous. It was a massive leap from the times they would flee his presence. He was starting to think he'd played too ignorant.

A smirk tugged at his lips upon hearing the leftover eggs being pilfered. When he turned to fetch the pan, Tiny was already hopping to the floor and disappearing behind the fridge.

Stealing right behind his back. When was enough too much, indeed.

AO3

#g/t #giant/tiny #goldfinch (oc)#matt murdock #daredevil g/t #giant tiny #the borrowers #borrowers #g/t community #gt #g/t writing #daredevil #marvel g/t #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction

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cyanide-capsules · 4 months

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Alex Keller was a very open man, or at least that's how he came off.

He was friendly, wide-eyed, the kind of guy you feel like you've known all your life. He seemed to naturally click with everyone he spoke with, including the 141.

Simon Riley was the opposite of him, he was a skeptic. Closed off, suspicious of those he didn't know. This was no different with Alex than anyone else, but there was something about the bright eyed American that made Simon's brain tick.

He didn't know exactly why he felt more on edge around Alex than other new people he met, and he wouldn't understand why until he overheard a conversation between Alex and Gaz.

"Alex man, can you keep a secret?"

Alex laughed. "Do you even know when my birthday is?"

Gaz laughed along, but something seemed to click with Simon.

He knew.. Nothing about Alex.

His middle name, his birthday, where he grew up, his favorite colour, nothing.

That's why he had been so off-put by him, the man was a complete mystery. A mystery that nobody even considered solving because Alex just naturally came off as an open book.

He didn't know what to think from then on, he tried to dig up what he could on Alex but knew he wouldn't find much without the assistance of Laswell.

He spent weeks avoiding the American, narrowing his eyes at him when he was in his vicinity, completely unaware that the two of them shared such similarities.

Two enigmas, one much more obvious than the other.

It wasn't until some random Wednesday night, nobody awake but the stars. Simon stumbled upon Alex just outside the bases front door, a lit cigarette nursed between his fingers.

He wanted to ignore him, go back to bed, but he found himself stepping outside with the other.

Alex acknowledged him with a smile and a nod, but didn't speak. Simon stared at him, not bothering to hide the fact that he was searching for answers in the other man's warm gaze.

There was a thick silence between them, it wasn't uncomfortable but, it was far from comfortable at the same time.

Alex broke it first.

"I take you're not a fan of me?"

He chuckled dryly, humorlessly. An observation Simon couldn't say he expected. His eyes didn't leave the American, watching closely as he took a drag off the cigarette. He didn't know Alex smoked but, then again, what did he know about Alex?

That's the entire reason he was here.

"Don't trust what I don't know."

Simon finally replied, though by now it was more of a statement on its own than an actual response to his comment.

Alex shrugged, he didn't seem at all bothered by Simon's reply. Silence spread between them once more, Simon didn't like Alex's lack of response.

"You're ex-CIA, that's all anyone knows about you. Nobody knows anything about you, but they trust you."

Simon continued, he wanted answers, he wanted a reason to trust the other man. Alex was quiet, tapping the ash from his cigarette before he replied.

"What was that saying? Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones?"

In any other moment, Simon would have been offended by the comparison. But, Alex was right.

They were, almost scarily similar in every aspect but their personalities.

Silence again. It was more welcome this time around. Simon always appreciated the quiet when he needed to think.

The silence didn't last too long this time, Alex spoke up again.

"Humor me, do you ever forget that you're a person and not just a soldier?"

That question alone haunted him for days, Simon now felt uncomfortably aware of Alex.

The way the americans grin always seemed to falter ever so slightly when he held it, how his gaze would fog over at the scent of smoke or when it got too quiet, how his prosthetic always seemed to be moving in some way or another.

He was aware now, aware of the similarities they shared.

Aware of how, just like him, Alex was a soldier before he was a man.

#alex keller #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #cod alex #cod modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #mw2 #ghost mw2 #alex mw2 #guys please hear me out on this friendship #guys please ive had this hc for ages i needed to share #alexs lack of backstory NEEDS to be utilized more in fics guys im BEGGING #alex cod #ghost cod #i didnt proofread this

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likeabulldigidigibombombombom · 4 months

Text

Open Window (Part 2)

Part 1 here

Pairing: Barely threatening thief!Hyunjin x fem!reader

Trope/Genre: Non idol au, fluff

Summary: You’re nearing the end of your gap year, and you decided to spend your last month of it at your aunts house. Unfortunately, a very stupid criminal has struck your house many times and you need to figure out who they are and why they did it.

1112 words

Warnings: Hyunjin LITERALLY ROBS YOU. DO NOT DO WHAT Y/N DOES SHE IS A DUMBASS. Usage of pet names, swearing.

It had been two days since you’d seen the robber. He had come through the window while you were asleep a couple of times and stolen a few small items that you had to look for when you woke up. You had so many questions.

‘Why is this guy stealing dumb shit?’ ‘Why is this guy stealing from me?’ and most importantly, ‘What is his name?’ All you were hoping for was for him to come back through your window (While you were awake) and explain everything.

After another boring day, it was finally night again. There was one problem though, it was freezing. Although it had been warm the weeks prior, the temperature had randomly dropped. You weren't expecting him, but just in case, you left a note taped to the window that said “Knock on the window and I’ll open it for you so you can steal all of our prized possessions :)”

Surprisingly, at midnight you were awoken by a knock at the window. Navigating your way through the dark, you managed to open the window and let the man in. “Hi again!” he said happily as he sat down on the windowsill. “What do you want to steal this time? Because I have a few things that I’d rather keep.” “Well, this time I’d like to talk for a bit, because I feel like you’re a little confused.”

You were taken by surprise, but touched by the fact that he was willing to help you understand what was going on. “Oh, thanks!”

“I’m not an asshole, darling, I’m not gonna leave you in the dark… Figuratively, it’s the middle of the night I can't make the sun come up again.” You laughed and began to speak.

“Why are you stealing from me?” “I can’t answer that.” “Okay? Why are you stealing useless stuff?” “I can’t answer that.”

“What can you answer then?” “You should start smaller. Let me ask you one. What’s your name?” “I thought I was supposed to be asking questions!” “You’re shit at asking questions.” You rolled your eyes.

“Y/N. What’s yours?” “I can’t answer that.” “Seriously?!” “I’m kidding. My name’s Hyunjin.” “Hyunjin? That’s a really pretty name.” “Thank you. So is yours, it suits you.”

“Well, Hyunjin, what do you like to do for fun? Other than stealing weird garden gnomes.” You could see a dimly lit face smile across the room. “I draw and paint and read, so basic stuff.” “I wouldn’t call that basic, especially for a criminal.” “Don’t judge a book by its cover Y/N.” “You stole an empty soda bottle from me, I think my anger is valid.” He laughed.

“You’re definitely the most interesting person I've ever robbed.” “You’re definitely the most interesting person who’s ever robbed me.” “How many people have robbed you?” “Let me count. One.” “I’m honoured to be your first.”

“How many other robbers do you know?” “Out of the ones I know? Six.” “That’s more than I thought would be around here.” “Yep, we all rob around this neighbourhood because we’re honestly not bothered enough to go anywhere else.”

“Well, I’m all out of questions. Is there anything you wanna say or ask?” “Oh yeah! Are you single?” “Oh, um, That was very forward.” “I’m just asking!” Despite how far away he was, you could see him smirking in the darkness.

“Yeah, I’m single.” “Okay good to know.” “What about you?” “I’m single. Painfully single to be honest.” “Really? I didn’t think that you’d be a romantic type.” “I’m such a hopeless romantic it’s insane.”

“How many other robbers out there are like this?” “I don’t really know…”

“Do you want me to turn the lights on? It might help you see what you’re stealing from me.” “Nope, then you’d see me and it would ruin my threatening mysterious persona.” “I hope that was sarcasm.” “No, but seriously, you can't see me with the lights on.” “Sure, but I’m not gonna look for you and report you to the police or anything, I probably should though.”

“I promise, my stealing isn’t just for fun.” “I believe you, for some reason I trust you a lot. It’s weird.” “I’m just so charming aren’t I?” “I take it back.” “Aw, why?” “You’re too cringy to trust.” “What do you mean?! I’m not cringy at all.” You threw a pillow at him and you could see him dramatically collapse on the floor. “You deserved that.” “No, I didn’t.” “Find something to steal and get the fuck out before I throw something bigger.” “Fine.”

He scanned the room. “What’s that?” He said, pointing at a new item on your bedside table. “Oh, I was gonna give that to you.” He walked over to pick it up.

He was a lot closer than he’d ever been before and you could see his face in more detail. He was absolutely stunning. He had an incredible jawline and the prettiest lips you had ever seen.

“Wow.” You said. He tilted his head in confusion. “You’re so beautiful.” He looked down shyly. “So are you.”

He held the item and squinted at it. “Is it a torch?” “Yeah! I thought it would be useful to have something that could help you see what you’re trying to steal.” “Thank you so much!” He pointed it towards the corner and turned it on.

“Why do you have a box of paper clips in the corner of your room?” “I don’t even know. I thought it would be useful but it really isn’t.” “I think I’ll take that.”

He was about to grab the box when you grabbed his arm. “Wait. Don’t go yet. I’ve barely seen you and I have to leave in two weeks.” “You’ll see me again soon love.” You felt your face heat up slightly. “But,”

He cut you off as he kissed you softly. Butterflies erupted in your stomach. Your hand was still on his arm and his hand had moved up to hold the back of your head. When he pulled away, he moved his hand and tilted your chin up to look at him. He smiled for a moment but the smile had quickly transitioned into a look of concern.

“Was that okay? If you weren’t fine with that I’m so sorry.” You laughed. “No that was okay. More than okay actually.” “Okay good.”

You let go of him and he walked to the corner of your room to pick up the paperclips. He opened the window and prepared to jump out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.”

With that, he was gone and you couldn’t stop smiling, replaying the moment in your head as you fell asleep.

Author note: Thank you so much for reading! I seriously appreciate it. Like always, constructive criticism is wanted! I'm planning to make a part three to this so if you found it interesting stay tuned! If you liked this, please follow me for more fanfics like this one <3 Thank you!

Masterlist

@catiuskaa thanks for the stickynote idea!!! :D

#skz imagines #skz headcanons #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #hyunjin x reader #straykids fanfic #stray kids x female reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #skz hyunjin x reader #likeabulldigidigibombombombom

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hellcat8908 · 11 months

Text

Attention Azriel x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst

You're aggressively scrubbing dishes clean in the kitchen when the door opens. You keep scrubbing the pan in your hands ignoring the sound. Azriel steps into the kitchen, "hey princess." He says stopping beside you. "Your dinner is on the counter wrapped up if you still want it, if not you can toss it." You say plainly. "Actually I already ate at Rita's." He responds as you rinse the pan and put it in the drying rack with the rest of the dishes. "Of course you did." You say as you grab the plate and toss it in the trash. Azriel leans against the counter, "want to tell me what you're mad about?" He says calmly. "Actually, no. I don't want to tell you because you should know." You answer. He stares at you trying to read you. "I'm going out." You say as you move to grab your coat. "It's 11:30 at night where are you going?" He asks following you to the door. "For a walk. Don't wait up and don't follow me." You answer before shutting the door behind you and taking off towards town.

You head for the Sidra, letting the cool evening air calm you. You're hand on the dagger in your jacket pocket. Velaris is typically safe but you never really know. Its not a long walk so you reach the bridge quickly. You lean against the railing and watch the reflection of the city's lights on the water. You momentarily get lost in thoughts of how Azriel could be so clueless as to why you're upset. Your hand subconsciously slips into the coat pocket to grasp the dagger once more as someone approaches you. You relax realizing it's Rhys, "I don't need a babysitter or a bodyguard. You can tell Azriel you checked on me and I'm fine." You say with annoyance. "You're not fine though, if you were you'd be home." Rhys says as he leans against the rail next to you. "Rhys go home to Feyre and Nyx." You tell him flatly. "Not until you tell me why you're out here in the middle of the night." He responds.

"I'm out here in the middle of the night because I'm mad at Azriel. There I told you now you can go." You say annoyed. "That's not what I meant and you know it." He responds. "Fine, you want to know why I'm out here in the middle of the night, Rhys? Let me tell you so you can tell Azriel because that's the real reason you're out here. He went out again. I wasted time cooking dinner just for him not to eat it for the fifth time this week and he didn't invite me, none of you think to invite me. I stay at home by myself while he's out with you all." The tears start gathering in your eyes as you continue. "Do you have any idea how much that hurts and all the horrible thoughts it creates in your head!?! I'm out here because I'm completely drained, mentally and physically. I'm out here because this situation is eating me alive and I'm drowning waiting for him to throw me a life preserver." You wipe away the tears streaking your face. "Now go home or report how crazy I am to Azriel so he'll finally put me out of my misery and leave me because mother knows I love him too much to leave him even after all the pain."

You turn and walk away leaving Rhys stunned on the bridge. You walk back towards the house. You notice the lights are off as you walk up to the front door. You quietly open the door and grab an extra blanket from the couch before heading out the back door. Once outside you lay back in one of the loungers, using your coat for a pillow and wrapping up in the blanket. You lay there looking at the stars quietly crying to yourself. Eventually you cry yourself to sleep thinking how pathetic you sounded to Rhys and how much pain Azriel had caused you without realizing it. You feel yourself surrounded by warmth as the smell of Azriel's cologne invades you're nose. You snuggle into the warmth of his body tighter, hoping this dream doesn't end.

You awaken to sunlight pouring in through the window. You sit up with a start remembering falling asleep outside. You smell french toast and bacon, making your stomach growl. You make your way into the kitchen, surprised to see Azriel still home, let alone making breakfast. You walk over to the fridge and get yourself a glass of milk before walking into the living room. You sit in your favorite chair by the window and pick up the book you've been reading. After a few pages you hear Azriel clear his throat, "breakfast is ready." You carry your book into the kitchen and sit at the table. You continue to read while Azriel watches you. "Will you please stop reading and eat?" He asks you patiently. "I am eating." You respond continuing your book. "Can we please talk?" He asks barely loud enough for you to hear. You close your book and set it on the table. "About last night..." He starts but you interrupt him, "there's nothing to talk about." You say emotionless. "There's plenty to talk about." He sighs. You shove your half eaten plate away, bracing yourself for whatever he's about to say.

"Y/n I'm sorry I haven't been home much." He starts, causing you to bite your tongue at his understatement. He runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to find the right words. "Here Az let me help you out, because this is the part where you leave me or you apologize and say you'll do better, which is it?" He stares at you in disbelief, "why do you think I would leave you?" You roll your eyes, "because of all the distance you're putting between us. I stay at home night after night and cook you dinner just for you to come home late after eating with everyone else. Because you never invite me to go out with you and your friends. Because the amount of time we spend in a day is laughable compared to what we used to. Because I'm not sure I'm who you want anymore because you don't act like you want me, but I'm too pathetic to leave you because of how much I love you, even though loving you is killing me at the moment. You've been shutting me out more and more so why would you stay is the better question."

Azriel stands there motionless, letting your words sink in. You wait for him to say something, anything at the point, but he remains silent. His mind reeling from everything you said not sure where to start to even try to fix it. You move to walk out of the kitchen but he grabs your hand, stopping you. "I don't invite you out to Rita's because I know you hate crowds and the noise. I didn't realize I hadn't been home that much recently. I do know that I want you and will always want you, the reason for going to Rita's was to clear my head before coming home to you, a way to escape what I deal with on a daily basis before dragging all my moodiness home to you." He pulls you to him wrapping his arms around you, "and your not pathetic, you're the strongest woman I know and you deserve so much better than me, but I'm selfish when it comes to you and I never want to let you go. I told Rhys I was taking some personal time to be with you and fix us and when I do go back to work I'm cutting my hours back the best I can to spend more time with you."

"I know my words are not a fix for any of the problems or pain I've caused you but they are a promise that everyday I will work on erasing all the insecurities I've caused you and to rebuild our relationship." He says softly as he holds you. "Things between us won't be fixed in a day." You tell him. "I know babe, I just want you to give me the time to fix them, and please talk to me about how you're feeling about anything." He says, tilting your chin up to look in your eyes. "I will Azriel. I love you and I accept your apology but you'll have to show me you mean it." He leans down kissing you lips, "I will for the rest of my life. I promise." You feel the familiar sting of the tattoo on your shoulder knowing azriel does too.

#acotar #batboys #fanfic #sarah j maas #acotar fanfic #azriel #acotar fic #azriel x reader #acotar angst

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ltsmoving · 4 months

Text

Somewhere, in a secret lair, hidden away from prying eyes, a mad scientist toils away at their latest project. A weapon that would surely put a stop to the pesky hero stuck on their tail.

After days of work, they were finally done, and they gently lay that weeks' magnum opus down on the lab bench, stepping away and taking a breath.

They lean against a cabinet behind them and clutch their cramping stomach. They hadn't had a chance to eat since breakfast the previous day, and they're finally feeling the consequences of not eating or sleeping.

They turn on their heels to leave but stop themselves in their tracks. A curious thought passes them by, and in their starved delirium, they lose the will to suppress it. "Where would science be without curiosity?" they justify.

Without a second thought, they're scavenging through their cupboards until they eventually find exactly what they're looking for: a test tube, 8ml. They hold the glass in their hand, inspecting it, testing its weight.

Then they put it into their mouth and swallow.

Cold is the first thing they feel. Cold glass slipping down their warm throat. Then, as the tube slides into their stomach, they feel the way it rolls around the chamber, light and tickling. It's a strange sensation, yet they can't shake the urge to keep going.

So, they do it again with a smaller 5ml tube, resting their hand over their stomach when they feel it land on top of the other, hearing a quiet clinking sound that sends the smallest of vibrations surging through them.

It was addicting, and they dig their fingers deep into their soft abdomen, shifting the glass around as they search their lab for other inedible treats.

When the hero arrived at the mad scientist's lair after they had been alerted to its location, they had come ready for a fight. To say they were surprised would be an understatement.

Not only had they found a whole room filled with ideas and plans for destructive machines and bio weaponry, and not only did they find a very science fiction-esque gun of some kind in their laboratory, but they found the mad scientist in no shape to fight, instead curled up on the floor in the middle of the room, nursing a very misshapen belly, groaning to themselves.

Usually, seeing the mad scientist's plans backfire would mean they got a chance to take them in or otherwise confiscate their inventions, but they didn't even get a chance to fight here. The hero feels bad, but the sight before them is just pathetic.

Cautious, they approach the scientist, looking them over, making sure they're not bleeding. From the closer angle, they can see the way their stomach is bloated and angular.

"Are you okay?" they ask with genuine concern in their voice.

The scientist cracks an eye open and scrunches their brow upon realising who had come to their rescue.

"Piss off." They try to swat their hand at them, but upon letting go of their tummy, another cramp squeezes at their stomach, forcing them back into the tight ball formation.

The hero rolls their eyes and crouches down to them, firmly placing their hand on the apex of the scientist's gut. They hear the faint sound of glass on glass as they move their hand around the fleshy boulder.

"I said piss off, twat!" The hero continues to ignore them, frowning in confusion as they piece things together in their mind.

"Have you been eating glass?!" They finally blurt out.

For once, the scientist actually looks guilty, though they're clearly more embarrassed than anything.

"Why have you been eating glass?"

The scientist still refused to answer the hero's questions.

The hero huffed a sigh and stood up to full mast. As much as the scientist hated the hero, their ministrations made them melt - not that they'd admit that, of course. Sensing they were getting nowhere, the hero left. They'd be back eventually, but they weren't dealing with the scientist's glass-eating silence.

The scientist, on the other hand, regretted not saying anything, if only because the extra hands on their sensitive skin were really helping the indigestion.

#got.. carried away again #very rambly towards the end there sozboz #i will write something good one day..#v.ore #v ore #soft vore #object vore #stuffing #stuffing kink #eddie wrote this

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outerspacebisexual · 2 years

Text

Acceptance - Eddie Munson

Requested: Yes, based on this request

Summary: When your acceptance letter to college finally arrives, you're beyond excited to tell everyone. But your brother Steve and your boyfriend Eddie don't have the reactions you were expecting.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mr. and mrs. harrington being shit parents

a/n: i simply do not care for the inaccuracies in this. i don't care bc it's just pretend and we can pretend that this is how getting into college works :)

also! i love hearing what you guys liked about my fics, so thanks for all the love on my other stuff! <3

Masterlist

The letter sitting on the end of your kitchen counter was taunting you.

Unopened, still in pristine condition even after travelling all the way from New York, and The Juilliard School logo in the top right-hand corner.

You couldn’t take your eyes off it, despite the fear and trepidation that rose up at its mere presence.

This one letter would decide your fate. It would decide the whole trajectory of your life, for better or for worse.

Your application had been a secret. The guidance counsellor at school had made you apply when you applied for your other colleges. You had made her promise not to tell anyone about it when she helped you apply. If you didn’t get in, you didn’t want Steve or Eddie feeling sorry for you.

Music was your whole life. You had been a talented musician from birth, from everything from singing, writing, or composing music.

You weren’t even sure where your love for it had come from. Your parents didn’t care for it. They had enrolled you in a few lessons as kid, but as you grew older, their acceptance had dissipated, and it turned into a hobby that you did without their knowledge. As far as they knew, you could barely manage to play one song on the piano. So, you had enrolled yourself in classes, and taken music at school seriously, with the help of Steve.

Your twin brother had been a major part of your success. While you parents had never come to recitals or eisteddfods—either because they were away or because they just didn’t want to—Steve had always been there in the front row, cheering you on.

Being twins, you and Steve had always been attached at the hip. Not only because you had no other siblings, but because you barely had any parents either. They were never home, and you and Steve had experienced the majority of your life without them there.

It had only been you and Steve at your middle school play. It had only been you and Steve at the DMV on your sixteenth birthday. It had only been you and Steve at prom. It had only been you and Steve at your graduation.

You two were inseparable, and you owed everything to Steve.

Most especially because without him forcing you to go to the music store for another sheet book two years ago, you would have never gotten to know Eddie.

The two of you had nearly bowled each other over as you pushed the door just as he flung it open. He had only just managed to grab your arm to avoid you hitting the ground, even as he balanced his guitar case. You knew of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson from school, but you had never really known him. Hardly anyone did.

So, when you two began to run into each other more and more at the music store, you had strung up a friendship that quickly evolved into a relationship. That was yet another bullet point to add to the list of things that your parents didn’t approve of. Not that you gave a single flying fuck what they thought of your relationship.

And now, over two years later, you were in love with the Hawkins’ resident metalhead freak, more than you could even express.

That was why this ominous letter was so threatening.

Because it held the answer to whether all of your hard work was worth it—whether it was enough, and whether you would be leaving Hawkins.

You glanced at the clock on the wall of the kitchen.

Your parents would be home from work any minute. It was one of the weeks where they graced you with their presence at their own home. Steve would be home from work in less than 30 minutes, too.

Hesitantly, you reached out and took the letter into your hands. Your eyes ran over your name and address. You breathed in, readying yourself for whatever it said inside. Whatever the response was, it would be fine. You would be able to live with not getting in.

You swallowed, flipping it over and tearing it open without another thought.

You stood still as your eyes ran over the words printed across the page. You read it multiple times, and every time you did, the words didn’t change.

We are happy to write of your acceptance into The Juilliard School.

You got in.

You couldn’t breathe. “Oh my god,” you said to yourself.

The door opened behind you, and you spun around as your parents stepped into the house.

“Y/N,” your mother said, frowning. “What’s the matter?”

“I…I got in,” you managed, barely able to form words.

Your father rolled his eyes. “Speak up, Y/N. Don’t mumble.”

You shook your head. “I got into Juilliard.”

Both your parents stopped. You could see the shock and disbelief on their faces.

“What?” your mother said, rushing forward to rip the letter from your hands. Her eyes went over the letter, eyes widening when she found the same answer as you did. “Juilliard, honey,” she said to your father. “Our child is going to Juilliard.”

Your father huffed a laugh. “A Harrington at Juilliard. Christ, wait until the guys at work hear about this.”

As every second passed, your smile fell more and more. As your mother was immediately on the phone to your aunt who lived across the country, bragging to her about the fact that her child was going to Juilliard.

Of course they only cared about themselves.

It didn’t matter that you had gotten in without any help from them. It didn’t matter they hadn’t supported you in your pursuits. It didn’t matter that you got in.

The only thing that mattered to them was that their child got into Juilliard.

In the midst of your parents talking to different family members on the phone, the door opened again, and your smile found its way to your face again.

Steve looked around confused at your parents who were smiling and laughing on the phone. It was rare to see them smiling at all, let alone in their own house.

“What’s going on?” he said to no one in particular.

You father turned to him. “What happened, son, is that one of my children has managed to make something of their life.”

“Dad,” you said, affronted. You looked between him and Steve. You knew that would hurt Steve. Your father was never one to pull his verbal punches when it came to making sure Steve knew that he was a failure. He was a grade-a asshole.

You saw the hurt flash across Steve’s face, even as he said, “What does that mean?”

Cutting your father off, you told him, “I got into Juilliard.” You couldn’t stop the smile as you got ready for his congratulations. This was what he had been helping you for. All of his time spent walking with you to and from lessons and sitting through your eisteddfods, all of it had led to this moment.

You hadn’t been expecting Steve to jump around with excitement at the news, but you had expected some kind of joy and happiness for you, maybe even a hug as he congratulated you.

You really hadn’t expected him to take a step back, frown turning into a look of disbelief. “What? Since when did you apply to Juilliard?” he asked. There was something about his tone. Something that sounded a lot like disgust.

You were suddenly unsure of yourself. “I—I applied back before we finished high school. They had a really long waitlist to get in, so I didn’t get my acceptance until now,” you explained, reciting what the letter had said.

“But Juilliard is in New York?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m starting in a month, but I have to leave in a week to get ready—”

“—A week?” Steve shouted, throwing his hands up. “You’re leaving in a week? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. I wanted to wait until—”

“—Until what? Until you could just leave straight away?”

You took a step back at the ferocity in his voice. “What the fuck, Steve? It’s Juilliard. I can’t just negotiate when I get there.”

Steve scoffed. “So, you’re just up and leaving?”

Your bottom lip trembled, and you bit it to try and avoid the tears you could feel threatening to escape. “It’s not that far, Steve. I can come back and visit—”

“Not far? It’s, like, twelve hours one way. When are you going to visit, huh?”

You couldn’t see your brother in the man who stood there in front of you. Your brother had been the one to support you through all of your musical dreams, even when your parents didn’t. It had always just been you and Steve.

And now, for some reason, Steve was suddenly against it.

Snatching the letter from the counter, you brushed past Steve, grabbing your keys from the table beside the door. You stopped, just before leaving. “You know, Steve. I thought you’d at least be happy for me.”

He didn’t even look at you before you slammed the door shut.

Your tears were racing down your face thick and fast as you drove to the trailer park. You weren’t sure how you managed to get there without causing an accident as you struggled to see through your bleary eyes.

You just needed to get to Eddie.

Eddie, being a musician, had always understood your dreams. He understood more than anyone else just what had to be sacrificed in order to get there. He had skipped out on school many times in order to write songs all day or practice his guitar.

It was one of the reasons why he was a three-time senior at Hawkins High School. But you had a good feeling about this year. He would graduate, and you would finally be able to see him cross that stage.

You rapped on the door of his trailer hard, grateful that Wayne was at work tonight. As much as you loved Eddie’s uncle, he didn’t need to see you sobbing on his couch.

Eddie opened the door, and his initial confusion as to who was assaulting his door morphed into concern at your tears. He didn’t say anything as he pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you.

His hands were instantly on your shoulders, eyes raking over your figure to check for anything amiss. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your face crumpled, and he pulled you straight into him. His arms came around you, pulling you tight against him as he hushed you. You gripped his shirt in your fists, anchoring yourself.

“What’s the matter?” he asked again, pulling away from you just enough to look at you.

“Steve…” you answered, wiping at your face. “Steve and I had a fight.”

That made Eddie raise a brow.

The Harrington twins fighting wasn’t all that uncommon, but never once had he heard of a fight between you and Steve leaving you in tears. You two always managed to sort things out, going from shouting at each other one second, to laughing the next. It must have been something big.

“Hey, it’s OK,” Eddie replied, gently guiding you to the couch. “You don’t have to talk about it.” He sat down, pulling you down beside him so that you leaned against him, your back to his chest. It was one of you favourite ways to sit with him. You loved feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath he took, you matching your own.

Eddie ran his fingers up and down your arm as he held you, and your breathing slowly returned to normal. The two of you sat in silence apart from the soft lull from the TV, some show you had never seen playing.

Sitting with Eddie like this, it took your mind off all your problems. It always made everything seem so far away, like you and Eddie existed in a little bubble, immune from the outside world.

“Babe,” Eddie said softly, placing a kiss to your head. His chest vibrated behind you as he spoke. “How are you feeling?”

You sighed, eyes not leaving the TV. “I’m just tired.” Your crying had left you catatonic, tired all the way to your bones.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You didn’t. You didn’t want to break this soft bubble. You should have been excited to tell Eddie about your acceptance to college.

The two of you had talked about your future together on so many occasions.

Eddie’s thumb traced patterns on the back of your hand as he held it while the two of you laid on the roof of his van.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the night sky, where the stars were shining so brightly without the moon.

You shuffled closer to him, and he looked away from the sky to you. “Cold?”

You half nodded. “A little,” you admitted. The mid-autumn air had started to get a chill, warning of a cold winter to come.

“Do you want to go?” Eddie asked, and your eyes immediately shot to his.

“No, I don’t. I want to stay here. With you.”

Even in the dark, you could see the smile that adorned his face at your words. The smile that you were absolutely, hopelessly in love with.

You both returned your gazes to the sky, your eyes searching the vastness for shooting stars. They were one of Eddie’s favourite things to see.

Aside from the occasional car in the distance, the lookout was quiet, peaceful.

“Do you ever think about us?” Eddie said, breaking the silence.

“All the time,” you replied.

“No. I mean, about us…in the future?” He seemed shy about the question, and you looked back at him, but his gaze remained on the stars.

Your eyes traced over this side profile. “Sometimes,” you said, eyes back on the sky. “I think about what we’re going to do when you graduate. If we stay in Hawkins.”

Having had your fair share of supernatural experiences, you had thought about the option of starting over somewhere without monsters. You didn’t know how to bring it up with Eddie without raising suspicion about why you wanted to leave. But the thought of leaving your hometown—leaving Steve—you weren’t sure if you would be able to.

You turned the question on Eddie. “Do you?”

Eddie was silent for a long moment. “I think about us all the time,” he admitted, and he went quiet again, for so long that you thought he wasn’t going to say anything else. “I think about us getting married. I think about us travelling the world.”

Your heart skipped, and you kept your eyes trained on the sky. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think about me and the band getting signed and then going on tour. And you’re there. But you’re writing music and performing, too. I don’t know how we do both, but we do.”

“What about college?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Maybe we go to college. Or maybe we don’t.”

You hadn’t told him about your application to Juilliard. In your mind, it was a far-off dream that would never come true. It wasn’t a reality. It just wasn’t something that would ever happen.

“Either way,” he continued, squeezing your hand, “We do it together.”

You both looked at each other, and he had that dopey smile on his face, one that you kissed with all the promises of the future.

Eddie squeezed your hand tighter, and if you thought about it long enough, those patterns he traced felt a lot like his name.

Sitting in front of Eddie now, you wished that you were more excited.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the letter that had been the cause of this whole situation. It was crinkled, both from being in your pocket and from when your mother had snatched it from you; it was a stark contrast to how it had been just an hour ago.

You fiddled with it before handing it to Eddie over your shoulder without comment. The letter would speak for itself.

You heard him unfold it, paper rustling as he flattened it.

You felt the way his chest caught as he read it. He pushed you forward with his forearm, and you turned to look at him as he sat up straight. From where you were sitting beside him, you could see the way his face dropped.

“What?” he said, not looking up at you. His kept his eyes trained on the letter, still reading. “What—Juilliard? You—You applied to Juilliard?”

You nodded. “Back before I graduated. They…They have a long waitlist to get in.”

Eddie leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, gaze still on the letter.

You had been with Eddie long enough to know that his silence meant that he was thinking hard. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to make sense of this new information.

“I—I leave soon,” you said.

“How soon is soon?”

You swallowed. “A week.”

Eddie’s head shot in your direction at that. “A week?”

He had that same tone as Steve, and you chewed your lip. “I have to be there in a week, but I don’t start my classes for a few weeks.”

Eddie stood, and you watched as he paced around, his hand running down his face. “I haven’t graduated,” he said finally.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Of all the things that you had thought he would say, that hadn’t been on the list. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He stared at you. “What does that—What does that have to do with anything? It means that you’re going to be leaving Hawkins and I can’t come with you.”

“Eddie, I know that—”

“—You know that? Then why the fuck did you apply?”

You stood up at that. “Because I want to go to Juilliard? Because I want to make music—”

“—We talked about this. We promised that we’d do it together.”

You shook your head. “I know we did, but I didn’t expect you to fail senior year again.”

Eddie scoffed. “So, what? This is my fault now?”

“I didn’t say that, Eddie. Don’t put words into my mouth.” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to understand where this had gone wrong.

“It sure as shit sounds like you’re saying it’s my fault.”

You huffed, and said, “Well, maybe it is! Maybe if you had of graduated the first time—or the second time—I wouldn’t have to be worried about it.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and ran his tongue across his lip. “Sorry that our promise to wait for each other is so inconvenient,” he spat, the venom in his voice so potent that it brought tears to your eyes.

You shook your head. “I did wait, Eddie! For two fucking years! And I can’t keep putting my dreams on hold to wait for you! I applied in secret because I didn’t want to deal with the pity from you or Steve if I didn’t get in. But I did!” you laughed. “I got into Juilliard! And no one seems to care about that fact that I got in. No one cares about me.”

A sob tore through you, and you put a hand to your mouth to stifle it. No one in your life cared about the fact that you had gotten in. They only cared about how it had affected them. Your parents, Steve, and now Eddie.

Your voice cracked as you continued, “No one cares about what I want. No one is happy for me.”

Your knees gave out from beneath you, and you fully expected your knees to hit the carpet, but Eddie’s arms caught you before they did. He lowered you to the ground, and his arms circled your neck.

But you pushed him away. “Don’t. I—I don’t want—”

“—Sweetheart, hey, listen to me.” Eddie grabbed your wrists as you tried to put distance between the two of you. You refused to look at him, and Eddie gently squeezed your wrists. “Look at me.”

“No,” you said, barely more than a whisper.

“I am happy for you, Y/N. So fucking happy for you.”

You glanced up at him through your lashes, his figure blurry from your tears.

He gave you a weak smile, one that was full of guilt and regret. “I’m sorry,” he continued. “I’m sorry for shouting at you. I’m sorry for acting like that. I am happy for you, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You choked out another sob. That was the first time someone had said that in a long time.

Eddie released your wrists, raising his hands to rest on either side of your face. “I’m so proud of you.” He wiped your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded gingerly, and Eddie smiled at you. He stood up, helping you to your feet as he guided you to his room and got into his bed beside you. He held you to his chest, just like you wanted.

After laying there for a few minutes, you said, “I’m sorry for not telling you. And I’m sorry for saying those things to you.”

You felt Eddie shake his head. “Don’t apologise, babe. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have expected you to put everything on hold for me. You have your own dreams, too. I was just…scared of you leaving—leaving Hawkins and leaving me.”

After a second, you rolled over in his arms. Even in the dark, you could see the silver that lined his eyes. “I would never leave you, Eddie.”

He gave you a watery smile and brushed his hand over the side of your face. “I know.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted. “I’m scared of being on my own. In New York. I’m scared of being there without you.”

“It won’t be for long,” he replied, and at your confusion, he elaborated. “I’ll move to New York at soon as I graduate.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I promise,” he confirmed, and he kissed you, as if to seal the deal.

It turned out that you had more stuff than you thought.

As you packed the last of your boxes into your car, you struggled to shut the boot.

It turned out that while your parents bragged about you going to Juilliard and were more than happy to pay rent for a small one-bedroom apartment in New York to ensure you stayed, they didn’t care enough to see you off.

You hadn’t seen Steve in the last five days. You didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, but you had tried not to dwell on it as Eddie helped you pack your life into your car.

“Is that the last box?” you said to Eddie as he shoved it onto the backseat and slammed the door shut to avoid anything spilling out.

He was driving with you to New York, then catching a bus back. When you had brought up how you were driving by yourself, he had promptly informed you that hell would freeze over before he let you drive to New York by yourself.

“That’s it. You’re all packed.” He came to stand in front of you, and you placed your hands on his chest as his rested on your waist. “Are you ready to get going?”

You chewed on your bottom lip. You didn’t know. You didn’t know if you were ready to leave Hawkins. You turned your head to look at the house behind you.

You had grown up in this house. You and Steve had made so many memories there, both with and without your parents.

You blinked away tears at the thought of leaving without at least seeing your brother.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie asked.

“Nothing,” you said, trying to push the hurt down.

Eddie glanced quickly at something over your shoulder, and he seemed relieved. You spun around as a familiar car pulled up, and Steve got out.

You looked over at Eddie, and he just rolled his eyes and pushed you towards your brother.

“Hey,” Steve said when you stood before him.

“Hey,” you replied, giving him a once over. “You look terrible.”

He chuckled at that. “Yeah, that’ll happen when you spend days realising that you’re a shit brother.”

You frowned. “Steve—”

He held up his hand, cutting you off, “Please, let me finish.” You silently nodded. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you. I—I know how excited you are, and it’s what you want to do. I was just upset that you were leaving. I can deal with mum and dad leaving because they always have, but you’ve never left, and I don’t want you to. But…but I know that you want to—that you need to. You’ve always been there for me, and now it’s time for me to be there for you.”

You were already crying by the time Steve finished his little speech. You knew that he had been practicing that all morning. “Thank you, Steve,” you managed, and threw your arms around him. He hugged you back just as tightly.

When you both finally let go, Steve had tears of his own. “Good luck,” he said.

You took the few steps to the driver’s side door of your car. “Thanks. I’ll visit in a few weeks,” you promised.

Steve smiled big and nodded as you got into your car, Eddie plopping into the passenger seat.

You wound the window down to say one more goodbye to Steve, before peeling out of your driveway for the last time. After this, it was no longer your driveway. It was your parent’s house now.

Eddie took your hand in his, and you glanced from the road to him as he placed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “Ready?”

You squeezed his hand and smiled. “As I’ll ever be.”

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot #stranger things one shot #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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oftenwantedafton · 5 months

Text

Pas de Deux - William Afton x Female Ballerina Reader ~ A Ballora Origin Story

Finale

Warnings for mention of pregnancy, referenced character death

Taglist @dxstopiaa

Also available on AO3

A cold spring rain falls on the day of your audition for the University of Utah’s School of Dance program.

You’ve already submitted your application for the ballet BFA program, including a generously written recommendation from Mrs. Afton, who’d sent it to your address without prompting. You cannot bear to look at her neat signature for very long, the cursive of that last name instantly stabbing through your heart.

There are a long line of hopeful prospects waiting when you reach the school holding the tryouts. You’re chosen somewhere near the middle of that group to perform. You’ve never been more nervous, tense at first as you begin but losing yourself in the performance soon after.

You can’t tell by the instructor’s expressions if they’re impressed or not, quickly dismissing you once you’ve finished and signaling for the next person in line to step forward. There’s nothing left for you to do but take the bus back to Hurricane.

The rain continues to fall.

You slip inside a nearby phone booth, digging around for quarters in your bag and thumbing several into the slot. Your mother answers, the enthusiasm and excitement clear in her voice. You wish you could feel the same way, the doubts muting your tone as you recount the audition’s events. You hear her ask if you’re okay, a daily query now. She has no idea what’s happened between you and William, of course; the shameful secret remains just that. You reassure her you’re fine, just tired, and that you’ll be heading home now.

You’ve just hung the phone back on its cradle and folded the sliding door to exit the booth when you notice a familiar automobile parked a short distance away.

Your heart lurches and your stomach rolls. You haven’t spoken to William since that last phone conversation four weeks ago. You’d assumed he’d given up, moved on, was too busy to spare you another moment’s thought.

Yet there he is, barely visible through the rain streaked windshield, dark hair and pale skin and shadowed eyes and you misstep, stumbling off the curb, a puddle of rainwater splashing and soaking through your clothing.

The vehicle approaches you at a cautious crawl, drawing even with you and halting, the window cranked down, and the look he gives you, that absolute desperate want, makes the supply of tears you’ve thought exhausted begin anew, lost amidst the downpour.

“Get in the car.”

His words are so soft they’re nearly buried underneath the collision of water to the earth, difficult to discern under the dull metallic sound as the rain strikes the roof of the sedan.

You stare at him, oblivious to your surroundings, everything narrowing in on the man seated there. “How did you know where I was?”

His lips press together in a thin line. “I was told—it doesn’t matter. For Christ’s sake, just get in the car, you’re soaked.”

You shake your head, sniffling. ”I don’t want to.”

The driver’s knuckles blanch as his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Please, get in the car. I need to talk to you.”

You hesitate.

“I’m begging you.”

Your fingers reach for the chrome handle and tug, nearly slipping free before you can get a good grasp of it. You throw your bag to the floor and your body collapses into the seat above it.

He leans towards you as if to kiss you, but you inhale sharply and turn your face away.

The storm intensifies by the time William pulls into the rear parking lot of the restaurant, the windshield wipers squeakily protesting at the brisk pace they’re forced to maintain until he shuts the engine off.

You feel his eyes on you but you cannot force yourself to meet his gaze. The car suddenly seems so cramped and suffocating, and you find it hard to breathe.

“Come inside with me. You must be freezing. You can get changed and—”

“No. I don’t want to. I’m not going back in there.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no point, William.” You muster the courage to turn and face him. You hate yourself for how badly you want to surrender; to pretend you’d never been driven apart; that your world within the space of his arms is still intact.

“What did she say to you that day?” His voice is quiet amidst the downpour.

You’ve had that conversation on replay in your mind over and over. It hasn’t gotten any easier to listen to. “That you were using me. That you’d throw me away when you got tired of me.”

“And you believed her?” William huffs in disbelief.

“I don’t know. Why would she lie?”

“To get back at me. To hurt you.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Your eyes burn. “Please take me home now.”

The older man shifts, beginning to lean in your direction and you recoil. He sighs, lifting the latch for the glove compartment, then removes a small gift box wrapped in pink paper and matching bow. He drops it into your lap and shoves the compartment closed, easing back into his seat.

“What is this?” You stare at the offering.

“Graduation gift. Couldn’t give it to you that night, obviously.”

You hesitate, toying with the loops of the bow on top of the box.

“I don’t think I should accept this.”

He sighs, digging into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Please, just open it.”

You tuck your thumb under one of the folded edges, tearing the paper wrapping. The box inside is wooden, varnished and embellished with scrolled pieces of metal. You lift the lid slowly and are greeted with a soft music box melody, a tiny ballerina inside turning in accompaniment to the gentle tinkling sounds. You recognize the tune as the same one he’d hummed against your cheek that night in the ballet studio.

“Schubert’s Serenade,” he murmurs quietly, staring seemingly at nothing through the rain blurred driver’s side window, one thumb worrying over a crack in the padded vinyl edge of the door, the cigarette he’s selected still unlit.

“It’s beautiful.” Your voice is thick with emotion.

“I’m not using you,” he says quietly. “I could never do that. I’m not a monster, in spite of whatever you were told, or whatever you may think.”

You remain silent, your fingers tracing over the gilded edges of the music box as you gently close it.

“I wasn’t with you just because I wanted to have a fling on the side or just…get off. I wanted to build a life with you. I still want that.” His arm folds and he presses a fist against his mouth.

“You keep telling me how beautiful and perfect I am. What happens when I grow older and I’m neither of those things anymore?”

He looks over at you.

“Is it really me you love, or the idea of me? Like that robot ballerina you want to construct. You want something eternally beautiful. There’s a reason that doesn’t exist in real life.”

He shakes his head, tucking the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. “Christ, she’s really poisoned you against me.” He inhales deeply and sends the smoke towards the cracked window.

“It’s not her, William. This is coming from me.”

“So that’s it, then? You’re finished with me? You don’t love me any more?”

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. “I still love you.”

He turns to face you. “Then why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart.”

“I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Maybe not intentionally. But still. I don’t want to end up like her.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“How do you know that for certain?”

“Because you’re not her.” He takes another drag and combs the other hand through his hair in frustration. “My relationship with her didn’t fail because she got older or less desirable. It failed because we’re incompatible. We both wanted different things out of life. When I say you’re perfect, I mean you’re perfect for me.” He cautiously reaches out and tucks a damp strand of hair behind one ear, knuckles ghosting against your cheek before he lets his hand drop back in his lap.

“What if I get accepted into the university?”

“I doubt it’s an if. Of course you’ll get in.”

“It’s three hundred miles away.”

The end of the cigarette flares as he takes another drag, nodding. “So I’ll drive the four hours to see you whenever I can and we’ll see each other when you come home on breaks. It’s only a two year program; it’ll go by faster than you can imagine.”

“The distance will bother you. It will bother both of us.”

Another deep inhale. The paper roll is vanishing quickly. “Are you looking for excuses for this not to work out?”

“No.” The rainfall nearly extinguishes that small denial. You hate how practical you are now. It had been so much easier to be lost in the romance of it all just a short month ago. Time had flowed so differently then. Now you're facing decisions that will affect the rest of your life. “How long will it take to get the divorce?”

“Lawyer said probably around three months since it’s uncontested. We’re selling the studio and the house. She’s moving back in with her parents for now. I have to find an apartment.” He scratches absently at his brow. “I’m planning on keeping the restaurant open. I’ve invested too much into it to just abandon it outright. Maybe I can find somebody to help me run it. There was someone I met back in college who seemed interested in the idea. I could try to track him down. It’s too much for one person to manage anyway.”

He sighs, taking in another lungful of nicotine, letting his head fall back against the headrest. He looks exhausted again, like he had back when you’d first started having the affair.

“There’s a studio that’s looking for an assistant instructor in La Verkin. Before we…I was thinking of working for a year, saving up some money. I could defer enrollment.”

He shakes his head, flicking ash from the butt out the window. “No. I’m not going to be the reason you don’t go to college. You’re too gifted to waste it.” His lips twist into a bitter smile. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not that selfish.” His eyes find yours. “Will you come back to me, when you’re finished?”

You inhale deeply, nod, watch as he gathers the last of the smoke before he leans towards you, exhaling inside your mouth, all ash and heat.

You should never have gotten in the car with him that day; never accepted his smoke tinged kisses and heated promises.

If only you had known, but how could you; how could anyone ever have predicted all of the terrible things that were to come?

***

You return back to Hurricane a week sooner than you’d promised, the first of a pair of surprises for William.

You’d forgotten how small the town was; how cramped and intimate the buildings were. You look through the cab’s rear passenger window at the ballet studio, now under new management with a different name, and you think about your first kiss in that alley two years ago after your hands had tangled. Your own left one is heavier with the engagement ring he’d placed there six months earlier.

It’s a weekday and the pizzeria isn’t crowded yet; that will undoubtedly be changing soon with the coming of summer vacation. A flood of memories washes over you as you make your way to the employees entrance. The door to the manager’s office is cracked open and your heart beats a little faster. His last visit had been six weeks ago.

You push the door open the rest of the way gently and the bearded man inside is a stranger, rummaging among some papers on the desk. He looks up at you and his hands grow still.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for William.”

“He’s out back for a cigarette break, I think.” He pauses, studying you. “I know who you are. I‘ve heard a lot about you. His prima ballerina.”

You flush. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too. You must be his business partner.”

“Henry Emily. Pleasure to meet you.” He offers a hand and you shake it. “Is he expecting you? I would have thought he’d have gone to pick you up.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Ah. Well, in that case, your secret is safe with me.” He smiles. “You know your way around, or you want me to point you in the right direction?”

“Actually, I’ve always found it to be a bit of a maze back here. I wouldn’t mind the assistance.”

He nods, guiding you to an exit door that leads to the rear parking lot.

You lean your weight against the bar and the door releases, granting you access to the warm sunlight outdoors.

He’s there, just to your left, leaning back against the bricks and mortar, a lazy trail of smoke drifting from the cigarette pinched between index and middle finger.

Your eyes meet at the same moment and the lit paper roll falls from his fingers. He’s on you in seconds, wrapping his arms around you, crushing you against him.

“You’re back,” he breathes beside your ear. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have taken the day off and come to get you.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

His lips find yours, gentle at first, then pressing with increasing fierceness, wet and possessive.

“William, wait. I have something else to tell you,” you pant between kisses.

“I’m going to tell Henry I’m leaving early. It’s not like I’m going to get any work done anyway. Fuck, I’ve missed you.” He nuzzles your throat, thumbs stroking over your hips.

“William.”

His head lifts and he draws back to look at your face, finally registering the seriousness in your tone. “What is it?”

“I’m late.”

“What?”

You reach for one of his hands, bringing it around to the front of your body and pressing softly against your abdomen.

The realization flares his eyelids. “You’re pregnant?”

You nod.

He smiles, giving a little surprised laugh. His forehead drops to rest against yours and he strokes over your belly. He tells you you’re perfect and he’s never been happier and for a time you believe it; you think he might have even meant it.

If only it could have stayed that way.

***

Your eyes are closed.

You’re aware, an artificial consciousness flaring into being, the operating system booting successfully after a few false starts. An electrical stimulus signals you to test your motor functions and you move your arm, hand opening and closing. The process repeats for the opposite side. Your lower extremities respond the same way. You feel something warm against your synthetic painted casing just above the details of the lace slippers and it stirs a memory from before. You’d been touched like this, back when you were flesh and blood. Caressed and desired. Promised forever. And here you are now; you’d gotten that eternity. Just not in the way you’d originally thought.

The voice that speaks to you is familiar, too. It’s rougher than it had once been, the cumulative years of smoking affecting the vocal cords’ abilities to vibrate, altering the sound to a coarse rasp. It bids you to respond to it and you do, the sound artificially processed and engineered to replicate your original voice as closely as possible. You hear a sharp intake of breath and feel something wet splash somewhere near one painted cheek. Tears, you think, your new artificial mind registering the sensation. You’d known these well. So many fallen over the years, some in joy, like during the birth of your first child; the loss of your youngest at such an early age. So much tragedy.

Ballora.

A name is spoken, and you recognize it as your own, a new one to accompany your new body, an identity for your new consciousness. The memories are tucked back into the recesses of your data storage. You have no use for them now.

You open your eyes.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #ballora

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valiantstarlights · 1 year

Text

[Dreamling Week Day 6: Sick] In Sickness

It's a fluffy sick fic featuring eldritch goo Dream of the Endless idk what else to tell you

CW: if you're fine with Dream being an eldritch being, then absolutely nothing. 😊 Enjoy! 🖤

Hob stares at the large black puddle of goo that flooded most of the living room. He just got back from work and found Matthew perched on a branch near his flat, looking as frantic as a raven could get.

Said raven is now perched on Hob's shoulder, eyeing the mess on the floor gravely.

Hob had been warned that Dream is 'in a state,' but he didn't exactly expect that 'state' to be liquid.

Because it is Dream on the floor, Hob can see that very clearly. Though the goo simply looks like dark glittery slime poured over the floor to the uninitiated, Hob recognizes a couple of nebulas on its surface. There, by the telly, is the Horsehead Nebula, there by the bookshelf that contained none of Shaxberd's works is the Trifid Nebula, and just by Hob's feet is the Lagoon Nebula.

"Darling?" Hob calls out, unsure if he's going to get an answer. This is his first time encountering Dream like this. "Are you alright?"

No answer.

He looks at Matthew a bit helplessly. "Do I just...scoop him up with my hands?"

Matthew fidgets. "Definitely don't vacuum him."

"Why the hell would I--"

"Well, why are you asking me? I don't know this shit! I was literally a human a year ago!"

Hob pinches his nose. They were like blind drunks stumbling down the street together. "Is he even sentient like this?"

The dark puddle vibrates, and Hob feels Matthew's talons dig into his shoulders from the jumpscare. He himself almost drops his suitcase. "I can hear both of you," the puddle grumbles, "and you are making too much noise for my liking."

"Oh, sorry, love," Hob says, his boyfriend instincts suddenly awakened at Dream's sulky morning voice. "Did we wake you?"

"I want some of your chicken pot pie."

"Chicken pot pie." Hob repeats. His brain is still processing the fact that his boyfriend is a literal puddle of goo on the floor. "Yeah. Okay. Let me just get some ingredients from the shops real quick. Can you get to the bedroom while I'm gone? I don't want to step on you when I return."

He leaves Matthew...not in charge, but overseeing goo Dream's long and arduous trek to the bedroom.

He hears the raven mutter something about this being like hell all over again.

Hob ignores that because he has a different set of problems to tackle.

Hob's panic sets in as soon as he gets out of the car carrying all the ingredients for chicken pot pie, as well as some other food and drinks good for sick humans.

Once the pie is done cooking and cooling down a bit, how will he feed Dream? Where is his mouth? Does Hob just...pour it on the goo and hope for the best?

What if that were the equivalent of dumping hot soup on his boyfriend's lap?

"Any improvement?" he asks Matthew, who has kept an eye on Dream while perched safely on the back of the couch.

Hob checked, and Dream's form is thankfully all contained in the bedroom, still looking like a lake of stars.

"Nope. But he says he wants you to make extra crusts because he likes that. I would also like some extra bits to snack on, if that's alright."

"Sure." Hob goes to do just that. Chicken pot pie for the boyfriend and a lot of extra crusts for the boyfriend and his raven.

No problem. This is all totally normal and fine.

"Dream? Darling? The pot pie is done."

The puddle looks a little smaller in size, and Hob can see a couple of hill-like formations near the middle of the mass. He hopes it's a sign that Dream is slowly getting better.

At his words, one of the islands move closer to him, like a shark. Its progress sends ripples throughout the lake.

"Finally," the island nearer to him says. Its peak splits open to reveal the inside of Dream's human mouth. "Feed me."

At this point, Hob isn't even questioning anything anymore. All he knows is how to be a good boyfriend, so he's gonna do just that.

He sits down at the very edge of the lake near the hill with the mouth, and scoops up a portion of the pie, making sure to blow on it before feeding it to Dream.

The hill hums in appreciation.

"Good?"

"Delicious," Dream's mouth says, before opening once more, like a baby bird waiting to be fed. "More. I want a larger portion of the crust this time."

Hob couldn't help the smile that bloomed on his face and obediently gets more of the crust for the next bite.

"What kind of juice do you like?" Hob asks, a few hours later. The goo now looks less like a puddle and more like gelatine that didn't set properly. It was on the couch, bundled up in one of Hob's soft knitted blankets, watching an earlier season of Game of Thrones with Matthew.

"What kinds do you have?"

"Uh, orange, apple, and pineapple. Oh, and I still got some banana milk from the Korean grocery store, if you prefer that. Or almond milk."

"All of them."

Hob and Matthew share an alarmed look behind gelatine Dream's back. "What, an equal amount of all those drinks together in a single glass?"

"Yes."

Hob looks heavenwards and prays for a little more sanity before complying.

And just for fun, he goes down to the Inn and gets a blue cocktail umbrella and a heart-shaped drinking straw to put in gelatine Dream's very questionable drink.

Gelatine Dream hums in delight and tells Hob he loves him.

Hob beams and kisses the top of the gelatinous mass, while Matthew chokes, very possibly because the scene on TV is Hodor...doing his thing, and that always gets to Hob.

(Matthew chokes because he is disgusted, he is revolted--)

Something thick and long, like an anaconda, slithers into bed with Hob, and it is only through his 600 plus years of living in this world does he calm his frantically beating heart and open his arms so big ass snake Dream can curl up next to him.

"I hate being sick," the snake hisses, its huge dark head tucking itself under Hob's chin. "I can't hug you like this."

'Please don't wrap around me and squeeze me to death,' Hob does not say. "I think you're adorable," he murmurs instead against Dream's coils, and kisses the nearest scaled skin in front of his face.

Dream is mostly back in his human form come morning, but he still dripped viscous dark liquid wherever he goes. It reminds Hob of Howl Pendragon from the Howl's Moving Castle Ghibli movie.

"How are you this morning, darling?"

"Wretched," Dream says as he drips onto his fry up. Hob mentioned preparing porridge for him as they got up earlier, only to be informed by Dream that he fucking hates porridge and would hurl it into the sun if he could. And so Hob cooked some fry up instead. "Must you go to work?"

Hob, already running late and in the process of putting on his shoes, stops and looks back at the pathetic picture Dream makes. He is sadly looking down at his perfectly cooked eggs, dripping dark sludge on the sun-yellow yolks.

"I'll call in sick," Hob decides, and takes his phone out to do just that. The department head is going to verbally flay him alive for only giving notice at the last minute, but nothing is more important to him than Dream. Hell, they could fire him over the phone and he'd be fine with it.

Dream hugs him around the middle as Hob puts his briefcase down, ruining his white dress shirt. Hob hugs him back and kisses the top of his head.

It's fine. He'll just buy another shirt, or get another job. But Dream is irreplaceable.

"Have I told you that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me?" Dream asks him a couple of days later, when they're both lying in bed after two rounds of fantastic sex, celebrating Dream's full recovery.

Hob kisses him on the nose and cuddles him closer. "Maybe once or twice in the last 24 hours," he says. "But it never hurts to tell me again."

Dream shyly hands him an unbreakable ceramic mug made from the sands of the Dreaming. It says, "The best boyfriend across all of time and space," in Dream's handwriting.

It takes Hob a solid month to stop grinning like a fool.

#don't ask me what dream is sick with because i'll probably say something like 'the slutty sickness'#but fr dream is too adorable here asdfghjkl #i was working on writing for the confession prompt but the story wasn't feeling it #so now we have sick eldritch goo dream of the endless and best boyfriend ever hob gadling #(sighs longingly)#manifesting for me to have a boyfriend!hob in my life tbh 🙏#dreamling #DreamlingWeek #DreamlingWeek2023 #the sandman #my writing

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writersdare · 1 year

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Why Won't You Love Me | Luke Hemmings

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Luke and Y/N broke up after a few months of dating so they could at least remain friends, but seemed like it didn't ease the pain.

Warning: angst, fluff, a bit of cursing and mentioning of alcohol

Word Count: 3 081

Requested: yes

Author’s Note: It's partly a song!fic, too, I guess. Hopefully you'll like it! I enjoyed writing their memories so much. Please, don’t forget to like/repost/comment, it helps a lot!

So many senseless quotes were out there. “They didn’t mean to be.” “They just met at the wrong time.” What did they try to express by that? Y/N was getting furious each time she’d bump into another photo with a pretty text on it. It’d hurt, actually hurt. From the throat, down the stomach, it would squeeze the guts inside and move lower, until she’d lose any desire to leave her bed and go to a short walk, at least. Those quotes were nothing but small ugly stones in a shiny candy wrapper.

It wasn’t even supposed to be that painful. They ended the things up just after three months of dating, so there wouldn’t be a damage to their souls even more if they’d give each other another month. Why didn’t it go according to that perfect plan, though? Why would she be upset when he couldn’t be in touch during a tour, why did she prefer to be apart, but once they were, it didn’t feel any better?

Why was he still dreaming about her at nights? Why would he wake up in the middle of sleep, calling her name? Why suddenly it was the only name he knew at all? The bed was colder, the pillow was more of a sharp rock, and the food lost its flavors.

The life didn’t even let them catch a breath. It seemed like it couldn’t get any worse at that point, truly. Luke was back to LA after touring, and they meant to remain friends, yet, they hadn’t seen each other ever since. It was just hard, almost unbearable. They thought they’d break up to save their friendship, and yet they lost everything. Each other.

Y/N would still be in touch with other guys, only sometimes though. It wasn’t like it used to be, surely. Everyone knew it couldn’t be, even if they didn’t talk about it openly. Yet, Ash decided to send Y/N a short message, asking to meet as he was finally home. Honestly, it was the only nice day for the past few months.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Luke turned all the way to the window and stared at Ashton and Y/N, who were approaching the car. They were talking and smiling, Ash was carrying her suitcase.

“Y/N had rough few weeks, so Ashton suggested her going to the villa with us,” Calum explained casually, looking at the friend.

Lu hastened to turn towards Cal, who was sitting just behind him.

“You kidding? It supposed to be our weekend!”

“And it will be, Luke,” Michael hurried up to reassure, resting hands on a steering wheel. “C’mon, we are still her friends, she’s quitting her job and yet can’t find anything good for her, you have to be a bit understanding.”

“Understanding?!” he outraged. “Could you at least warn me in advance, guys?!”

“We knew you wouldn’t mind anyway. Even if you’re now behaving like you do,” Cal answered and turned a head away, as the door opened, and Y/N got inside.

“Hi, guys,” she smiled shortly.

“Hey, how are you?” Mike gave her a hug as much as he could, being in the driver’s seat.

Calum smiled and cuddled the girl, too.

“Hi, Y/N, so glad to see you.”

“It’s mutual, Cal,” she nodded and then leaned towards Luke. It’d be weird to ignore him.

“Hey,” he only said and patted Y/N on a shoulder, almost holding his breath so he wouldn’t sense the perfume the guy used to love so much.

She hadn’t exactly changed. Maybe a little. Yes, Luke saw dark circles under her pretty eyes, her face was tired and lost its healthy color, but she was still beautiful. Y/N smiled, and the musician only sighed, looking away, because it was simply impossible to look at her. To remember that they didn’t work out because of their own stupidity, naivety, recklessness and ego, assuming they could be just fine without each other.

Ashton placed the girl’s suitcase in a trunk and got inside as well, so Michael started the car.

The road was long. It took almost two hours, for Luke it felt all four. He almost didn’t speak. The guy was staring at the window, observing the nature passing by, while others didn’t stop talking. At some moment he just closed the eyes and pretended to fall asleep. Maybe it was childish, but it helped to feel the pain less.

“Luke?” she stopped next to him, as they all came inside, and Ash gave everyone a tour to their new home for the coming week.

The villa was a pretty one, spacious, with a pool, fireplace, tennis court, few bedrooms downstairs and upstairs. But honestly the head was so much not there.

The guy turned to Y/N and only mumbled something, waiting for her to continue. She sighed and hid hands in pockets of a hoodie.

“I know it… it can be uncomfortable for us, and… I’m sorry if it’s the case for you. I… just missed… my friends,” the girl was trying to find the right words carefully. “And I really needed some change in my routine,” she sighed.

“No, we are all glad to see you,” Luke said, and he knew it was the truth even if he was hiding it from himself. “Mike told me you have some problems with the job, though. Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?”

Her lips stretched into a smile immediately, and she shrugged.

“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“Don’t do this,” he said, looking at the girl’s eyes.

“Do what?”

“Smile. I know you’re hurt.”

It was painful to watch. Him, pretending he was ready to come back as a comforting “just friend”, and her, behaving like she was strong enough to move forward without him. The world was falling apart, they knew it. Didn’t figure out how to fix it, yet.

Ashton was right, though, the change of a place was helping Y/N a lot. Maybe the presence of Luke was, too. It felt nice to let the head have a rest and not to think of problems which were waiting for her in LA. It was nice to forget the day of a week and lose track of time. And it was rather healing to notice Luke’s eyes on hers, to feel a slight touch of the fingers on her skin while he was passing by or taking the same candy from a vase. He felt almost alive again. And she finally remembered how it was, in heaven.

Luke was an angel. She’d tell him that millions of times when they were together. During breakfast or before going to bed. While he’d be touching her like only he could, or when he’d sing for her. He was an angel. The guy would laugh at that. Would get certainly shy, and maybe she’d, if would be extremely lucky, see a slight blush on his cheeks.

“I think you were a Cupid back in centuries,” she said, lying with him in bed.

“A what?” Luke chuckled and left a soft kiss on her nose. “What kind of silly thoughts are in your head, Y/N?”

“No, I’m honest,” the girl smiled and hugged a pillow, looking at him. “Your eyes are reflection of the sky, Luke. Your golden hair is just like Cupid’s. You have magical voice, and you have a soul of an angel,” she rested a palm on his chest. “Do you think you can fly?”

He smiled and leaned to kiss her sweet lips.

“I feel like flying all the time when I’m with you,” Luke whispered.

He had to leave. They both knew it, there wasn’t even anything dramatic about that. The tour had lasted for months, when he’d go back home for few days it was just harder to say a goodbye. The last time they had said it, as a couple, they had probably already known it’d be their last kiss. Luke knew they weren’t alright, but he couldn’t stay and talk it through. She didn’t want him to, either. Y/N knew what she signed for when they started to date, the girl wasn’t delusional. They just both thought the distance wouldn’t hurt them.

They hated the phone calls. It was easier with texts, but when he’d see her face on a screen, Luke would have to hold back the tears. She’d smile, just like she did when they arrived to the villa and he asked how she was, and then would cry all night, missing him, them. Desperately, unbearable.

“I just feel lonely, Luke. I feel lonelier with you than I was by myself,” Y/N said the other night, and it just broke him, simply, without any other bright adjectives, without complexion.

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“I don’t want that to. But maybe that’s why we need to stop this torment.”

“Is that how it is for you to be with me?”

“No, you don’t get it. It’s how it is being without you.”

She still remembered his eyes that night. Maybe it was for the better they spoke on the phone and not in person. Maybe it was for the better that he was hundreds of miles away from her. His eyes were cloudy, grey, bursting into rain any second. Y/N was already crying. She hadn’t stopped for the past few days after that call.

The pain was going away, though, slowly. Who knew the pill from the agony could be the same as for happiness. She thought it’d be awkward; and truly was trying to reassure Ashton and explain how weird it’d be to go on a trip with them after all what had happened between her and Luke. But Ash knew it was exactly what the guys needed. A second chance…

“Do you like it here?” Luke turned his head towards Y/N as she entered the kitchen to get a snack, and smiled. The guy himself was sitting on a couch with a guitar in his hands. He was working on a new song, the idea came to his mind a few days ago, when they first arrived to the villa.

The girl looked at the musician and smiled back, taking a slice of rye bread and a plate.

“I do,” she said honestly.

“On a scale of liquorice to pizza how much do you like it here?” Luke chuckled and left the guitar on a couch, then walked towards Y/N.

“Pizza level,” the girl laughed shortly and showed avocado in a hand. “Do you want some?”

“Yeah, I’ll help you,” he nodded and got another slice of bread. “I’m happy you’re having a rest here, with us.”

“Really?” Y/N sounded almost surprised, washing the fruit.

“Of course,” Luke hurried up to glance at her, as the girl knew his sky eyes didn’t lie. “Why are you amazed?”

“No, it’s just…” she shrugged. “I was worried it’d be odd, but the truth is…”

“I’m really glad to see you,” the guy interrupted her, as he really wanted to say it first.

Y/N smiled and nodded, glancing at Luke.

“I’m really glad to see you, too…”

Luke sighed and put a bread slice on a plate.

“Look, I… I’m sorry it happened like that. I… I should have been stronger; I knew it wouldn’t be easy…”

“Luke, you shouldn’t have,” Y/N shook her head. She didn’t want him to blame himself, it wasn’t fair.

“Yeah, but now I feel like I gave up too easily,” he said honestly, looking at the girl, while she was making them sandwiches.

“We both gave up,” she corrected him and, seeing Lu wanted to say something else, hurried up to change the topic.

“Where are the others, by the way?”

“They went to get some grocery,” he mumbled, not being convinced with the news himself. Friends probably thought they were idiots.

“Oh,” Y/N nodded. “Ash didn’t really warn me, weird.”

For some reason that phrase made him chuckle in annoyance and even though “don’t say it” was ringing in his head, he spilled it out nevertheless.

“You and Ashton are pretty close, huh?”

The girl raised her eyebrows in a surprise and looked up at the guy.

“I mean… Just like with all of you?” Y/N asked, although it wasn’t exactly the truth — with Luke it was different.

The musician immediately got embarrassed that he snapped at her.

“I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to be jealous, you aren’t even mine,” 'anymore', he wanted to add but bit his lips before adding anything more stupid.

The girl swallowed and looked down.

“Ash and I are just friends. Always were and always will be,” she said quietly, wondering if Luke knew the reason. Because she still loved him, of course, she did. Her angelic boy…

“I wrote a song,” he mumbled. “I mean, I’m still writing it,” the guy ran the hand through his hair, getting nervous. “Wanna check it out? The melody isn’t here yet, there are just lyrics for now.”

“Sure, I’d love that,” Y/N nodded, and they took a seat on a couch with their snacks. Usually, Luke didn’t like people checking his unfinished songs or lyrics, but, driving by emotions, the guy really wanted her to read the lines he came up with.

Y/N took the notebook and read hastily written text. It was clear Luke was in a hurry to put it on paper until he forgot.

Switching into airplane mode again We're not alright but I'll pretend Press my cheek against the glass Just be good 'til I get back

The ground disappears I hold back the tears I check my phone to see your face Staring back as if to say Don't worry, you won't be lonely

“Luke, it’s so beautiful…” Y/N smiled and looked up at Luke. “Almost like a story. And I desperately want to find out what will be next for them,” she handed the notebook back to him.

“Really?” the corners of the guy’s lips twitched in a short smile. Luke wasn’t sure if Y/N actually got that the unfinished song was about them. Was she pretending so he wouldn’t rise that topic again? She didn’t miss him? “Thanks. I guess,” the guy mumbled and put the notebook on a coffee table, feeling another burn in a heart.

Y/N wasn’t lying and surely didn’t want to hurt Luke. She just thought it’d be too narcissistic to think the song was about them, after all their relationship didn’t last long. Before that they were just friends. The song could be about anyone. Could be about some fiction characters, too…

Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? You imagine when you close your eyes You're with me on the other side So why won't you love me?

Whiskey became his friend for a while. Stupid, useless, Luke knew. Yet the only time when he was not thinking about Y/N was mostly when he was drunk. Although even at that time memories would rush to his head, while he’d be sitting at a bar where they used to go together.

He wished he could call her and hear “I love you, too”, but he didn’t dare to hit a green button on his phone. They broke up, they were just friends. They supposed to remain friends, became strangers instead. But then found each other again, thanks to his band mates.

Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? We're together, all alone tonight So helpless from the other side So why won't you love me?

It didn’t matter if the guys were planning to have a rest, they all knew that at some point they’d still end up in a studio making music. Y/N wasn’t surprised to see a small one on the villa either – friends would only regret if they didn’t have their creative space.

At such times the girl didn’t usually bother them and was spending time by herself, enjoying small vacation. Honestly, she needed it. And even though Y/N was not with Luke anymore, just to be in his presence and see his face was the greatest gift.

“So, you finished it? I like it,” the girl smiled and entered the studio, as Luke performed the last accords of a song he showed her just few days ago. The band mates left to order food, but Luke decided to stay for a little longer.

“Sure, you do,” he chuckled and annoyingly leaned the guitar against the wall.

“I… do like it,” Luke’s coldness in a voice took Y/N by surprise, so she stumbled. “You think I’m lying?”

“Listen, I don’t want to talk about it,” he jumped from a couch and hurried up to leave, but the girl caught his hand.

“Luke… Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I just—“

“It’s nothing, really. Glad you liked the song. I just thought you’d be less delusional about it.”

Y/N felt like chills run all over her body, while she was looking at Luke’s blue eyes.

“Wait,” she swallowed. “Was this song about me? Us?…"

“Oh, so you finally figured it out?” he chuckled again and rolled the eyes, crossing arms on the chest as if not believing that all that time Y/N didn’t understand it. And honestly, she felt ashamed for not getting it all along.

“Luke… I just thought it’d be… too much of me to think so, I thought that maybe it’s just some fiction or about someone else and—“

The guy covered her palm with his, interrupting.

“All the songs for the past month were about you, Y/N,” he shook his head. “How could you not realize that?”

“Maybe because you’re asking why I won’t love you?”

“And what about it?” the guy shrugged.

“Because I already love you, Luke. Always have, nothing has changed,” she looked down, whispering her confession.

The guy’s heart threatened to break a chest with such a rushed beating.

“I hold on to you and you hold on to me,” he whispered back one of the final lines of the song and smiled shortly, squeezing the girl’s hand in his. “I don’t like being without you, Y/N. I’ve tried, I just hated it.”

The girl sighed and simply hugged her angelic boy, resting a head on his chest.

“I hated it, too. And I want to hold on to you if you hold on to me…”

“Always,” he promised and left a short kiss on her temple.

taglist: @dgrangaa, @gracieboogirl

Moodboard ♡

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @bettermcn and here @killmytimes –

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

Masterlist | Prompt List

#luke hemmings #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #5sos #5sos angst #5sos fic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings angst #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke 5 seconds of summer #luke 5sos #luke 5sauce #luke hemmings blurb #writersdare #writersdare Luke 5sos

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the-likesofus · 1 year

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merry go 'round

9-1-1 on Fox | Pre-Buddie | 700 words | phone call, buck gets existenial about lounge furniture, taylor speaks in riddles, post s6

Buck is having an existential crisis over his life, his girlfriend, and his furniture. He calls Taylor for advice.

“Why are you calling me, Buckley?” Taylor sounds groggy and vexed, which Buck supposes makes sense and in all honesty, he isn’t sure he has an answer but he’s been pacing his apartment for hours and the sun set without him noticing, and then it started rising again while he was still pacing.

“I don’t know.” He says eventually.

Taylor sighs and he hears her shuffling around on the other end of the line. “You don’t know? Buck, it’s five am, on a Sunday. I was asleep.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He really is sorry. It took a while for him and Taylor to get to where they are now but nine months on from their break up they’ve talked and reconciled a few sore spots between them and are friends again. Friends who catch up every couple of weeks, who go for coffee or to a bar for drinks. But not really friends who call each other at five o'clock in the morning in the middle of an existential crisis.

“Why didn't you call Eddie?” She asks.

“Eddie’s asleep.”

“I was asleep, Buck.” She spits and then breathes heavily. “So, why didn’t you call Eddie? Or is this about Eddie?”

“It’s not,” Buck says as he sits on the barstool in his kitchen and looks out at his empty loft. His coffee table; is clear of books, puzzles, and remotes. His bookshelves; are tidy and decorated, but almost to the point of looking like they've been staged for a home magazine. His new couch, the new new one. Not the one his Mom brought, the one that Natalia helped him pick out. It looks nice in the same way that the bookcases do. It fits the space well, it's a good size, and the color ties in well with his other furniture. It’s decidedly more comfortable than the one his Mom brought. But like the bookcases, it looks—put on.

All of my couches came with girlfriends.

“Am I going in circles?” He asks eventually and Taylor laughs. It’s light and polished on the edges just as it always was.

“Physically or metaphorically, because you sound like you’ve been pacing? Have you been pacing?”

“How do you know I’ve been pacing?”

“Because these questions sound like you’re overthinking, and when you overthink, you pace.” She says matter-a-factly. “It was quite annoying actually. You overthink a lot.”

“Duly noted, thanks.” He rolls his eyes and rubs the cuff of his sweatshirt back and forth between his fingers. “Seriously though, do you think I’m going in circles?”

“In what context?” Research, facts. This is why he called Taylor.

“Life? Relationships?”

She sighs again, she does that a lot now. Like Buck is something to be pitied, or frown at, or maybe she just wishes he could see whatever she thinks is so obvious. He wants to, he just doesn’t know where to look. “I heard you got a new girlfriend.”

“It’s been almost a year since we broke up, Taylor.”

“I’m not jealous, Buckley. I’m not fourteen and cursing your name in my diary while telling it every terrible, no good thing you ever did to me.” She scolds then her voice changes. It doesn’t soften, not really, but it evens out and loses its sharpness. “She seems nice from your pictures. Very pretty.”

“Yeah, she is nice.” Natalia is very nice, probably nicer than Buck deserves, particularly when he could put her in a lineup with his bookshelf and his couch and probably wouldn’t be able to pick the difference.

“Buck, what makes you think you’re going in circles?” Taylor asks.

Considering it’s all he’s thought about for the last eight hours he’s been haunting his own home, he doesn’t have to think long on his answer but he pauses anyway. Maybe for dramatic effect, maybe just to breathe.

“I just–. I feel like every time I’m making progress, doing better, learning things, learning from things, and then finally feeling ready to step into a relationship again, it doesn’t feel like progress, it just feels like falling back into the same patterns.” He bites his lip and it stings. “Like I’m going in circles, like getting on and off the same Merry Go ‘Round.”

“Are you going in circles to find something or around something?”

She talking in riddles and Buck’s too tired and too stressed to decipher them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Taylor is quiet for a moment. The breeze outside brushes the leaves of the palm on his balcony against the window.

She shifts again. “Are you sure this isn’t about Eddie?”

Maybe it is. Maybe it should be.

#evan buck buckley #taylor kelly #buddie #meegs writes stuff #911 fox #911 s6 #911 abc #911fic #911 fic #buddie fic #eddie diaz #911 on fox #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #911 on abc #911 ficlet

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onyourhyuck · 1 year

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The Next Step. | Kim Doyoung (M)

↳ Prologue: “We’ve been together for a long time. I think we should take the next step. Will you marry me?” + “Maybe…”

↳ The Summary: Doyoung and you have been dating for seven years and recently you gave your boyfriend a big talk about marriage. Doyoung suddenly goes on one knee and proposes to you.

↳ The Warnings: Proposing marriage. Fiancée Doyoung! Fem reader. CRACK. Wholesome fluff. Ahem spicy suggestive smut at he end. Nipple and boob play. Kissing. Marking. Teasing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Recently EVERYONES getting married and you can’t shake the feeling off that god is giving you a sign that it’s your time to get proposed to. Everyday you’ve been speaking about marriage with your boyfriend hoping he takes small and quiet hints from your convos but you doubt he is listening. At this point you lost your anticipation because it’s been a week and a half and your sweet loving but easily distracted boyfriend has not gone on one knee for you.

You hate to break it to yourself but maybe you won’t be getting married anytime soon. Which, honestly is alright if he isn’t ready yet; but you really want to speed this thing up. You wish to be married to the love of your life. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? It might honestly kill you physical and mentally.

Now you’re walking side to side with Doyoung in the backyard watching your shared hyperactive puppy to run around and play with the both of you, you would be throwing the disk and waiting the dog to catch it. Doyoung on the other hand seemed rather distant and absent minded.

“Doyoung why don’t you throw that tennis ball to Rosie?” You question suddenly but instead your boyfriend lets out a soft chuckle brimming through the cold breeze despite it being sunny this early in the morning.

He clears his throat until he suddenly goes on one foot and your eyes widen at the sight, seriously right here? You drop your hands immediately and stare in absolute shock. Doyoung was on his knees holding out a small jewellery box with the most beautiful ring you could ever lay your eyes on— as his loving eyes stare at you waiting for you to answer or give some type of reaction. But you stood still and covered in nothing but shock.

You always told yourself you want to get proposed to. But why are you suddenly second guessing everything? You blame your anxiety, you couldn’t even move your legs and your mouth has seemingly lost its purpose to speak.

“We’ve been together for a long time. I think we should take the next step. Will you marry me?” Doyoung’s voice brings you back to reality as you stand fidgeting in your pockets of the jacket. Your voice coming out hoarse and timid.

“M-maybe.” You stammer without a thought. MAYBE? Did you just say maybe to your long term boyfriend to his question? Yes you did. You want to bury yourself six feet under with a coffin truly designed for you and your dumbass.

Doyoung looks at you with confusion. “Maybe?” He repeats back and you don’t reply turning around to focus on the dog. He stands up as he sighs, you just know he’s about to scold and give you the biggest lecture of your life. “Y/n what the hell. You’ve been hinting about marriage to me lately and when i finally propose to you, all I get is a maybe. What do you mean Maybe?”

“You caught me off guard! I need to have a think about this.” You reply back with a slightly raised tone as Doyoung looks at you questionably.

“I caught you off guard? Right okay not like you’ve been hinting to me to get on MY knee, Y/n and flash the ring at you.”

You frown slightly. “I need time.”

But all the man said to you was a nod. “Okay. Okay take all the time you need.” He reassures you as he rubs the back of his head.

That day you never want to relive it because the walk back home was so awkward and tense, none of you spoke to one another and Rosie, your shared dog was in the middle walking as if she were your child wondering why her parents have fought. On the way home when you get there it was rather a distant space between you two as well. Doyoung spent his day upstairs. You spent your day downstairs.

He didn’t approach you unless needed to be, which would be ‘I’m taking the shower’ or ‘I’m going out’ so you don’t have to worry and you would do the same such as ‘I’m cooking will this do?’ Or ‘Hey i’mma buy something from the shops you want anything?’ And that’s it.

Doyoung really wanted to talk to you. As much as embarrassed he was for having such a dull reaction from you, he would never regret proposing to you; he knows how you like to overthink things and that’s exactly what you’re doing here. There’s a reason why he hasn’t proposed earlier and that’s because you aren’t desperate for marriage but now the day has come you’re probably cherishing the last days of you and Doyoung’s relationship where you’re more free. But if he’s honest being married to you sounds like he’s already married to you. I mean, seven years dating you and no marriage? It kinda sounds like permanently married to you already. Nothing would change except the fact you’ll be taking his last name and you’ll eventually have kids with him.

He can’t lie though. He’s frustrated. He’s frustrated with you especially. He wants to marry you and be with you, but the ‘Maybe’ really annoyed him.

When it became night you were already in bed tucked in waiting for your boyfriend to come and sleep. Doyoung softly checks if the doors are locked and windows are shut. He makes sure the dog is sleeping with you guys on the bed, because he knows how much Rosie hates being alone in a dark and black room; coming inside the bedroom he closes the lights and walking in the darkness with only moonlight shining through the curtains a little he makes it inside the bed and tucks himself under the duvet and blanket you share with him. That night you couldn’t sleep and neither could Doyoung.

You stay wide awake staring at the ceiling and Doyoung doing the same. Your lips are dry and you subconsciously lick them as you ponder nervously about the proposal. You want to say yes. But how will you tell doyoung that now? You practically rejected him in the worst way possible and he must have all the confidence shattered. You wish for yourself to slap the past self you, because you could’ve said anything but what you said.

You’ve always been the unserious type so you slowly turn around to face Doyoung in which he was already staring back at you, laying on the side and watching you back. You flash him a playful smile suddenly.

“So…when do i get my ring?” You playfully lean closer to his face as Doyoung scoffs lightly at you trying to crack a joke to get rid of the heavy tension; it worked in your favour though. The tension was gone and Doyoung welcomed your joke, reaching his hand over caressing your cheek and brushing the soft silky hair behind your ears. You bite your bottom lip watching how beautiful your boyfriend was, truly you realise how lucky you are to have him.,

Doyoung teasingly adds. “Hmm, I dunno Y/n. I come with the ring.”

You smirk. “That’s the best part, you come with the ring.” As the gap closes he felt your soft lips caress the top and softly pull him into a loving kiss, feeling the way your cold hands print themselves on his jawline to pull him even closer to the deeper kiss, your body crawls on top of him and you can’t help yourself but get physically and mentally excited by how much your boyfriends hands were roaming to feel your. Doyoung would be reaching his hands down your back, tracing them with the ticklish feeling of his fingertips running down your spine, down to your waist the more the makeout increased, and then reaching to your round ass he groped it tight. You let out a soft squeak and a haunting giggle before going back to kiss him heavily, this time with more passion and less softly.

He smirks darkly at you, tugging on the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your shorts. Pulling apart and demanding to you.

“Take them off. Now.”

You obey at his words as the shirt and shorts instantly come off and become scattered on the floor. Along with his own clothes joining them, you were left in panties and boxers, nothing else on. Doyoung didn’t hesitate to bring you to lay down as he goes on top of you kissing down your neck and your chest spreading them with red marks and edging you with the nipples, hearing a gasp from you felt rewarding and he can’t help but firming for more noises to come out of you.

You grip the pillows behind your bed as you bite your bottom lip watching the way your boyfriend’s mouth travels lower to your pelvic bone and right above your soaking pussy as his warm breathing hits the edge. He smirks looking up at you.

“You never answered my proposal question, actually.” He said suddenly and you widen your eyes. He was right. You didn’t give him an answer yet.

“So what will it be, Y/n. Yes or a maybe?” He stated seriously and you squeeze your thighs with a laugh of disbelief. Doyoung really knows how to get a hand on you and you wish he used that hand to pleasure you instead of taunting you with marriage right now— but you knew he was playing his cards right.

You let out a soft groan. “Seriously Doyoung.” And your boyfriend nods, quite serious about this. “I want to be with you even in marriage, of course I’m serious baby. Now will you answer me so i can fuck you quicker?” He tells you with a half lingering joke and you let out a snort.

“Ugh you’re unbelievable. Yes. Let’s get married Doyoung. I want to be with you too.”

He smiles at your answer, feeling happiness overwhelming as he pulled you into a sweet kiss. You return it softly but quickly break it, embracing him.

“And I’m sorry for such a terrible answer earlier, I shouldn’t of even second guessed in the first place.”

Doyoung let’s out a soft hum as he returns the embrace around your bare body, spreading a kiss on your shoulder and the crook of your neck. “Don’t worry about it love. I’m happy you were thinking this through. It’s what I love about you, always wanting to make the right decision.”

“It’s a big step in a relationship. So I’d rather have you think about it than completely reject me.” He tells you again and you can’t help but cheese at how understanding he was.

Both of you are ready for The Next Step.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! REBLOG AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE FICS IF YOU ENJOYED

#nct fanfiction #nct smut #nct x reader #nct u scenarios #nct hard hours #nct series #nct fic #doyoung scenarios #doyoung smut #doyoung hard thoughts #doyoung fic #kim doyoung #doyoung fanfic #nct 127 smut #nct 127 hard thoughts #nct 127 hard hours #nct dream smut #nct u smut

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katsu28 · 2 years

Text

study or sleep

pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x reader

summary: Peter finds Y/N studying in the middle of the night

warnings: none really just cute fluffy Peter Parker content

a/n: a really short one shot that i came up with during my finals week

i’m also officially done with school for a few months so i’m trying to get back into the swing of writing as much as i can!

masterlist + taglist

(gif found on google, creds to owner)

Peter woke to an empty bed, reaching for you sleepily only to find that the sheets were cold, blankets cast aside, and you nowhere to be found. Glancing bleary eyed at the clock on the bedside table, he saw that it was 4:20AM, so why weren’t you asleep?

He crawled out of bed sleepily, grabbing a random shirt off the floor and making his way out to the living room, where he found you huddled in a blanket and hunched over your laptop, typing away furiously. A small smile made its way across Peter’s face at the sight of your concentrated pout as he leaned against the doorway and watched you work.

God, you were so beautiful.

Peter wasn’t sure how he was so lucky to be with someone as perfect and beautiful as you were. He was completely. 100%, without a doubt, in love with you.

In his admiration of you, he hadn’t noticed that you’d become aware of him lurking in the hallway, and was now peering out at him with wide eyes.

“Oh my god, did I wake you?” You gasped, covering your mouth with a hand. “I’m so sorry, Pete, I—”

“No! No, no, you didn’t wake me. I had to go to the bathroom and saw you weren’t in bed.” He replied quickly, padding over to the sofa you were curled up on and sitting cross-legged next to you. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Got a bunch of stuff due at the end of the week, I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d try to get some work done,” You sighed, shoulders slumping. Peter could tell that even though you said you couldn’t sleep, you were exhausted.

He’d noticed that you’d been working nonstop for the past few weeks, often staying glued to your laptop until you passed out at the kitchen counter, or the couch, or wherever you’d settled to get stuff done. This, along with going to your classes, your job at the campus gym, and your internship at Oscorp Industries, Peter worried that you might be spreading yourself too thin.

“Sweetheart, when was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?” He murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen out of your messy bun behind your ear. “And by good sleep, I mean more than four hours.” He added before you could open your mouth to respond, causing you to let out a tired chuckle.

“I don’t need sleep, I need answers,” You joked, drawing a roll of eyes from Peter. “But for real though, I don’t really remember.”

“If you don’t remember, then it’s been too long.” chided Peter. He eased your laptop shut, ignoring your protests and climbing to his feet. “Come on, Y/N. Back to bed.”

“Pete, I can’t—” You whined, but your whines quickly died off when Peter slid his arms under your knees and around your back, hefting you into his arms bridal style. Nestling your head against his chest, you sighed. “‘Mkay, fine, maybe just a few hours.”

The reverberation of his laugh rumbled through his chest, ticking your cheek as he made his way back to the bedroom, easing you down on the bed and stifling another laugh when you refused to let go of him. “Stay.”

“I was planning to, my love,” He murmured, trying and failing again to wiggle out of your grasp. Peter ended up doing a weird little half roll, half climb maneuver over you, tucking himself close to your body.

“Love you, Pete.” You yawned sleepily, snuggling even closer into the warmth that he radiated and nuzzling your head under his chin.

“Love you too, sweetheart. Goodnight.” He pressed a soft kiss to your hair, trailing his fingers up and down your spine soothingly as the two of you laid there together.

If he was waiting for a response, he didn’t get one, because you were already fast asleep.

“Couldn’t sleep, my ass.”

Taglist!

@doublecrazyyymofo @milkiane @scenesofobx @raajali3 @conans-folk @eichenhouseproperty @dpaccione @laneybobeczko-g @nardaddyromanoff

if your username is crossed out it means tumblr won't let me tag you :(

#tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm imagine #tasm peter parker fluff #tasm #tasm!peter x y/n #the amazing spiderman #tasm peter one shot #tasm peter x you #andrew garfield

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poisonousdelights · 2 months

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PARTIES: @poisonousdelights and @woveninstardust TIME: Second week of March WHERE: Gatilin Fields and the surrounding area SUMMARY: It's the perfect night for a cryptid hunt with the fog rolling in and Maggie and Isa decide to take advantage. What happens when Maggie finally gets to see a creature from her mother's stories? As it turns out, nothing good.

Foggy nights were always prime cryptid-hunting nights.

For some reason, there was so much lore in the town about fog and mist revealing the creatures that remained unseen, as if the watery weather washed away the veil that kept cryptids and monsters away from the average eye. Maggie had all but sprinted out the door the moment her shift at Periwinkle’s Paints ended, texting Isa as she went. Which brought her to now, trudging through muddy paths obscured in fog, peering through the dying light of the bleak winter day.

“I don’t know if we’re even gonna see anything…” Guilt tinged the tone of the girl’s voice as she turned to glance over at Isa. She’d already thrown an extra sweatshirt on her and wrapped her scarf around the other girl so she stayed warm. It wasn’t particularly chilly, but Isa seemed to get colder easier… and Maggie’d be damned if she let her freeze while following her into the middle of nowhere. But Isa seemed to be willing to follow Maggie on all her hair-brained adventures, no matter what the weather was. She was positive she didn’t deserve a friend as good as her. Positive that Isa deserved some nice, peaceful afternoon off, where she wasn’t doing stupid things in the middle of the woods. But Maggie loved her all the more for agreeing to spend a little time looking for things that the world said didn’t exist with her. “Half the stories Mom tells specify days like today, so…” Rocks skittered down the path as she scuffed her foot, making the mist swirl about.

“We can go watch a movie or something later- whatever you wanna do.” Oh, yeah… Isa deserved worlds better than her nonsense.

Some people probably wondered why Isa always went along with Maggie’s hunts for cryptids when she didn’t always believe in them herself. She would get those questions from almost everyone before she’d lost most people out of her life and she’d always said the same thing: “because I believe in Maggie”.

It was the simplest answer, the truest one as well. Even if she thought they would never find what they were looking for back then she wanted to be there for her friend, and wanted to support her in whatever she wanted out of life. It was still the same now but with the added bonus of wanting to keep Maggie safe from whatever else was out there. Plus, now that she knew the supernatural did exist she was certain that her friend’s belief in these creatures were warranted. Isabela wanted her to have that moment where she found one of the things that she adored so much.

Plus, she wasn’t that cold. She’d thought to bring a knit hat this time and her warmest jacket to go over the extra sweater that Maggie had given her when she got there. She’d just forgotten those damn gloves. “So, we’re not looking for anything in particular then?” Isa could recall a few of the cryptids that Maggie and her mother had talked about before enjoying these conditions but she wasn’t sure if there were other factors to be aware of. She almost wanted to let her eyes transform to see what heat she could find, maybe point out something and give her best friend exactly what she wanted.

She couldn’t do that though. It was too risky, especially at night. By the sound of Maggie’s voice, Isa could tell that she felt bad for bringing her out on another cryptid adventure. She didn’t want that, there was no need to feel bad. “You know, Maggie, this is fun on its own. It’s like we’re living in a movie.” And it certainly was. A snake beast best friends with a cryptid lover desperately trying to prove that they existed. It would do well in Hollywood. “Just tell me what to keep an eye out for.”

“Yeah, nothing in particular…” Her voice trailed off as she peered down through the swirling fog, trying to follow the path as best she could. It was strange how most of the stories Maggie knew had the detail of it being ‘foggy’ out. Wormy, for example, was almost exclusively seen on foggy days. And while it was strange weather for February, the girl would take advantage of every second of it. She didn’t get how Isa never tired of following her into the middle of nowhere, helping her look for things that the rest of town said didn’t exist. But when she looked at Isa, she didn’t see someone who was bored or frustrated. In the dying light of the day, obscured by the mist, Isa looked content, almost… Like she didn’t mind her current situation.

A piece of her knew her friend’s words were meant for comfort. But it didn’t make them any less accurate. Life in Wicked’s Rest was already like a movie or a tv show most days. With so many strange and spooky happenings, sometimes even Maggie felt like she was a character being written into the background of some TV show.

A tiny grin crept across her face, dark eyes twinkling in the twilight. “What’s the name of our movie, then? And who’s playing us, because-” Her voice dropped off suddenly. There had been something dancing there, just out of sight, glowing through the fog. A car… or one of those lamps people put on their bikes. But it didn’t move like one of those. And the color of that glowing light hadn't been right. She turned to face it, to seek it out once more, but it had vanished. Just like that. Maybe she was just imagining things…

“I… nevermind, I thought I saw something…”

The prospect of a little game to help pass the time, talking about who would play them, had Isa grinning with excitement. She was already scanning through names of actors until her friend stopped in the middle of her sentence. She tried to look where Maggie was looking but it was a little difficult to see exactly where she was looking with the stupid sunglasses over her eyes. “Wait, what did you see? Wormy?” Would Wormy be out here? It was the first cryptid that had popped into her head so she rolled with it. “Should I get the gummy worms?”

Excitement coursed through Isa at the very idea. Was this the night that Maggie proved the existence of a cryptid? Were the nights spent in the cold forests of Maine going to pay off? They were already worth it just for the time spent with her best friend but seeing the joy on Maggie’s face when whatever she saw turned out to be a creature she was looking for was going to make her life, that she was sure of.

Suddenly, she saw it too. After scanning the area for a few moments Isa saw the flash of bright lights ahead of them swirling through the mist as if they were putting on a show. They would dip below the fog to the ground and then surface again, twinkling like it was trying to catch her attention. It would have been seductive had it not been lights floating through the air. “Maggie…what is that?” Maybe it was seduction. Maybe something knew exactly what they were doing. Because at that moment, Isa knew that she wanted to follow whatever it was. They were calling to her, tugging at her still frame, enticing her to move toward them. “We should follow them…”

She was about to brush off having seen anything. An illusion of the dying light and the misty air and her own incessant need to find the seemingly unfindable. Isa’s words seemed a million miles away as Maggie stared into the mist, into the unknown. But then it was back. Like a star hovering above the ground, floating in a space just out of reach and growing smaller. She’d never seen anything like it. Her breath caught in her throat in a shallow gasp. “You see it too… You see it too, right, Is?” The words were so quiet that they were hardly audible, just a wisp of smoke rolling off her lips. But every soft syllable was threaded with excitement and hope she’d never felt before.

Her mother had told her stories of stars that fell out of the sky and hovered waiting for people to wish upon them. She’d told her stories of spirits that wanted to be followed. There were so many stories that coursed through her mind, that wove themselves into her memory, that were as much a part of her as she had wished to be a part of them. And now, for the first time, there was something there promising her that all the stories her mother had told her were true.

Maggie was moving without a second thought, feet trodding off the path and towards the mote of unknown light beckoning her onward. If Isa thought they should follow it, then who was Maggie to question it?

She wasn’t even sure what Maggie had asked her, the words too low to hear even if Isa wasn’t concentrating on the little orbs of light beckoning them over. Her eyes were glued to them but as soon as Maggie shot forward and she noticed the movement out of the corner of her eye she was moving just as swiftly, careful to be just a tad slower so that her friend had the opportunity to get there first. This was her moment, it was everything that Maggie had worked for. It’s what she deserved, right?

But didn’t Isa deserve it too? She’d been out in the forests with Maggie for years, trekking along after the girl to help her find whatever they could. Now that there was something there and the two of them were getting closer the lamia felt like she deserved the win just as much as Maggie did. The desire for these wisps, it was taking over the desire for her friend to have that moment and her feet started to move a little faster as her vision filled with nothing but the dancing light show that somehow kept getting further away no matter how far she ventured into the trees.

They were teasing her now, twinkling with amusement with every step that Isa took towards them only making her want them more. Why, she didn’t quite know. She almost wanted to take the sunglasses off to get a better look, to see if there was something about them that could tell her why she was so enamored. She was tempted, especially with them floating away, but mostly Isa just wanted to keep going, to get there quicker.

It was such a strange sensation. All at once, unbridled joy and curiosity flooded her senses, leaving Maggie lightheaded and utterly, ridiculously giddy. Real. The wisps were real. They were floating in the mist, beckoning her onward, glowing brighter in the dying light of day. A giggle erupted from her chest, unable to hold back her excitement any longer. “They’re real!!! Isa they’re really real!!!”

As she rushed about after the wisps, following their ever-glowing path, she hardly noticed herself being turned around. If the girl had stopped to think for even a moment, she might have realized her path had twisted. She might have realized that Isa was no longer just a hand's reach away, but was being pulled in her own direction by the will-o-wisps. She might have remembered the parts of her mother’s stories, the ones where the glowing creatures often led people to places where they ought not go…

They twinkled merrily, lighting her path through the mist. Nevermind that Maggie could hardly see where her next step would land. Nevermind that at all! Follow!, they seemed to whisper with each little blink. Come with us, come see!

The only thing she registered about Maggie’s words was how far away the girl sounded and when she did, Isa glanced over to her best friend to see she was being pulled in another direction. It didn’t strike her as odd even if it should have. Maybe they were meant to go in different directions. Maybe the lights wanted them to see different things and that was okay. She didn’t get to think about it any deeper than that as a wisp flew in front of her eyes and drew her attention back to the direction they were leading her, obviously wanting her to keep going further away from her friend.

And she followed without any protest.

It was an odd sensation. Not caring about being by Maggie’s side anymore, she kept her feet moving towards the woods that the wisps were leading her to, whispering nonsensical things low in her ear. After a moment the lamia realized they weren’t actually words being whispered but rather a dreamy little noise to keep her attention, to keep her mind on them and not on Maggie. She continued to go where they led but something was tugging at the back of her mind. Something wasn’t right about this, was it? Why wouldn’t these wisps want to show them the same things? Why would they want to separate them?

As the questions grew, so did the noise the balls of light were making to keep her attention on them. Her feet were still moving her forward but she could feel the desire for them pulling away from her mind the more she thought of Maggie like an anchor keeping her grounded. Where was she going? What were they trying to show her?

And why couldn’t she bring herself to turn around and go after her friend?

The orbs of light moved further back towards more fog as Isa continued to follow, but something was different about this mist. It stretched further off the ground than the white fog she and Maggie had noticed earlier and there was the hint of a red hue to it that made her a little nervous to keep going towards it. But she didn’t stop, the little sparkles inside combined with the wisps from before pulling her towards it all.

The wisps twinkled in the mist. Just as Maggie drew close enough to reach out and touch one, it would vanish and reappear further down the line. They were her only guide for which way to go. Had the soft whispers beckoning her forward not been there, perhaps a rational thought would have entered her mind. It didn’t do well to stray from the path, and when the world was obscured by mist and the growing dark of night, it was so very easy to end up headed in the wrong direction.

She could have sworn Isa was right behind her. Swore she could hear her footsteps a few feet away. Something in the girl’s gut knew that if she looked away from the motes of light for even a moment, they might disappear for good. Then the two of them might be lost in the dark, doomed to meander until the fog cleared or day found them. Those are footsteps you hear, her footsteps, trust she’s with you, keep going. For a moment, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was feeling how Orpheus must have felt when walking with Eurydice up from the Underworld. Just keep moving forward, don’t look back, trust she’s there.

Instead, Maggie turned her focus to trying to figure out where the wisps were guiding them. They’d started in the woods, closer to Mossthorn Forest. But time had lost her, the mist had turned her around, and the distance no longer made much sense. There weren’t so many trees here. The path had smoothed out, with only the occasional rock, well-trodden grass, and dirt underfoot. Were they in the Fields? What was out in the Fields? All she could do was keep walking, keep following, and find out.

How far away had these wisps taken her? Where was Maggie? The thoughts kept infiltrating the hold that the light had on Isa’s mind but then they would whisper again and bring her right back to it. She was deeper in the woods, coming right up to the red fog, reaching out to touch it when her foot caught on a tree root sticking out of the ground.

Her body landed with a thud in the saturated dirt, sunglasses flying and her arm halfway into the red mist. As she laid there she knew something wasn’t right, something bad was happening. All the energy she possessed was slowly draining from her body. She looked up at the strong smell of iron that her sensitive nose had caught a whiff of only to see that red mist glowing brighter. Her arm was pale, losing color slightly faster than the rest of her body, and she could have sworn there were small droplets of blood leaving out of her fingertips.

She yanked it back out of the beautiful mist as soon as she understood what was happening. Those dancing swirls of light added a little chime to their whispers as if they were giggling at Isa’s current misfortune. “Ohhh…” A realization hit her. “You did this on purpose, you little shits.” They chimed again before they quickly floated away from her and back in the direction they had come and she could only thank the heavens for the root that kept her from completely walking into that mist. She would definitely have to feed soon though to help replenish was it was able to take.

As her mind started to clear a little, she started to search the forest floor for the sunglasses that had been tossed from her face with the impact, hoping they hadn’t slid into the mist. She lazily patted her hands on the ground and only lost hope for a moment until her fingers grazed the plastic of them and she was able to place back on her nose where they belonged. “Maggie, don’t walk into the mist.” The words were barely above a whisper, her lack of energy very clear as she spoke, but something hit her then.

Maggie wasn’t with her.

It all came rushing back to her at once. The way the orbs had separated and sent them both in different directions, the way Maggie kept coming to mind until the wisps would wipe her from it again, and panic tore through Isa like a freight train. If the wisps were leading her here, where the hell were they taking her best friend? “Maggie!”

The scream tore out of her lungs as the rush of adrenaline took over, giving her the energy she so desperately needed. She was on her feet again, running back towards the edge of the forest as fast as she could to hopefully catch sight of her friend again. Luckily, as more of her mind started to clear she could remember seeing which way Maggie was being led she just had to make sure she didn’t make a wrong turn somewhere. Her legs carried her through the trees, down the path that she’d seen her friend take, rushing into a field where she could see Maggie in the far distance. The lights were still leading her somewhere, they still had their hold on her, and she screamed out once more even though Isa was well aware the other girl couldn’t hear her.

The further along she followed the wisps, the more her heart began to race in her chest. Wisps led people to… what was it? Her mother had told her again and again. Wisps… what was it about wisps? She swore she heard Isa’s voice whisper something, a secret lost to the fog. The sound was a welcome reminder to Maggie- she’s right behind you…

The world had grown so strangely still in the growing night. Had there been bird song? The sound of wind? The only thing she seemed to hear were the whispers of the wisps and their footsteps plodding along after them. It was almost eerie. It made her want to turn to Isa and make up some excuse to turn back. But stopping meant losing the proof floating just in front of her. Just out of reach, always a breath away… No, no, turning back was not an option.

Instead, she tried to focus on what the wisps might be leading them to. Was it a lost Tendrilla shrine? A secret tunnel? A spirit of the woods? A creature that town had forgotten and that could be brought back into the stories they told? The answer lied ahead, where motes of light had begun to gather.

They sat clustered together in a perfect circle in the distance, as if they were exchanging secrets amongst themselves. Every step took her a little bit closer to the answer. She kept her hand held out towards them in a gesture of peace. She wasn’t any harm, neither of them were. The wisps stayed put, sentinels in their circle… which was where she was going to go. Right to the center, if they’d let her.

Not too far, now. A few steps more…

“Maggie!”

She was closer now. She could see the color of her scarf through the night instead of it blending into the shadows of the night, see the individual braids of her hair as they swayed along with her movements, see the beautiful girl through the night fog going towards something that seemed much darker then the ground she was walking on. Isa pushed her legs to go faster. Whatever that was, she knew it wasn’t going to turn into anything good. After the wisps had led her to the bloodsucking mists, how could it be anything other than something that was meant to harm the most wonderful person to walk this earth?

Maggie was getting closer but thankfully not moving as fast as Isa was. She was closing the gap as quickly as she could, that large mass of black growing bigger and bigger the closer she got to the both of them. “Maggie, stop! It’s tricking you! Please stop!” Her lungs burned as she screamed even louder, her side hitching with the extra loss of air, but she wouldn’t stop. She’d never stop.

The moment her friend’s feet reached the edge of the large pit she was able to slip her arms around Maggie’s waist and yank her back. Both girls fell to the ground, Isa on her back with Maggie in her arms, mud surely covering both of them and her sunglasses skewed enough to be considered dangerous in that moment. She was out of breath, afraid that exhaustion was going to make her pass out right then and there as her heart pumped what was left of her blood volume erratically.

But she was safe. She wasn’t falling into the pit of darkness in front of them, and the wisps seemed to huff as their second attempt to do harm got thwarted. Isa held on tight, never wanting to let go of the girl in her arms after losing her to darkness. “Maggie, are you okay?”

The wisps were so bright. Maggie swore that the closer she got to them, the brighter they became. It was as if they, too, felt the anticipation of an arrival. She could hardly hear a thing outside her own heartbeat and the strange chime-like whispers that seemed to ring out in her mind. After years of believing, this, the moment she was in, changed everything.

Reality came screaming in the moment her foot should have found purchase on the ground and slipped through air instead.

If good moments happened quickly, then bad ones existed in slow motion. Her heart plummeted to her feet as she realized exactly where the wisps had led her. Death Pit. She was going to fall into the Allgood Death Pit. She was going to fall, probably to her death (ironically enough) into the Allgood Death Pit. She didn’t know if she was screaming. She knew her mouth was open, she knew she was scared, but she couldn’t hear a thing other than a ringing in her ears. It was only then that she remembered her mother's words, echoing in her mind like a death knoll: Wisps are tricky, Magnolia… keep your eyes up if you see one. Or you might live to regret it.

And then, just as the thought threatened to swallow her whole, the world sped up again. Too fast, as if someone had hit fast forward. Maggie got yanked back so hard she felt the air leave her lungs, and suddenly she was crashing backwards into Isa.

The first thing she really registered was that it was cold. The mud that slopped along the path around the pit was slowly soaking into the girls’ clothing, their hair, their skin… The next was that she was crying. There were tears on her face, yes, but when had she started crying, and why couldn’t she stop… The third, and perhaps most important, was that Isa was there again. Maggie was clinging to her best friend like she was a life raft. Isa hadn’t been behind her. Rather, Isa sounded as if she’d ran a marathon trying to catch up to her. When had they been separated? She’d been so sure- so sure- that Isa had been a few steps behind her the whole time.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I-“ the words were stammered between little sobs. “You were behind me, I thought you were behind…”

“No, Maggie…” She could hear the girl starting to sob and the first thing Isa did was secure the glasses that were threatening to fall from her face just to make sure this night didn’t get any worse. The second thing she did was maneuver the two of them so that she could face her best friend, the two of them laying in the mud on their sides. She didn’t care about the mess or the chill that was creeping into her body because of it, all she cared about was Maggie being okay. Clearly, she wasn’t. Who would be after almost being lured to their death?

Her forehead pressed against the other girls, Isa using her thumbs to brush away the tears that kept coming even as her own started to roll down her dirty cheeks. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, we’re safe. That’s all that matters.” But she still couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d almost lost the single most important person to her.

If she had gotten there even two seconds later it would have been Ruth all over again except in a more catastrophic way. The Ruth situation had ruined her life, had taken away so many things from her, but losing Maggie? It would have ended her right then and there. There was no Isa without Maggie, the one person in her life who had fully stood by her through everything that she had been through, the one person who loved her no matter what happened. She kept whispering the same thing over and over, trying to calm Maggie down while she continued to wipe away at her streaked face.“I’m here now. I’m here, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere, never again.” And repeat. She knew eventually they would have to get up, there was no telling if that mist was being moved their way or what other crazy things they could encounter out in that field, but Isa just wanted to let her girl cry for as long as she needed. With no indication of how much time was passing them by, the two of them stayed right at the edge of that pit. At least they were safe in each other’s arms.

#Threads #Thread: Maggie #Be Wary the Wisps #//Bee you're incredible

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phantomtgm · 1 year

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Phantom - Chapter Ten

Maverick’s P.O.V

Two days had passed since Ava walked away almost in tears. Two days of me not being truthful with her. The truth is, I didn’t know what to say or how to tell her what was going on. I feared she would be creeped out and I didn’t want that to happen.

Besides Ava being constantly on my mind, I was worrying about Rooster. Going beneath the hard deck with him didn’t do so well with Admiral Simpson seeing as I was called back to his office before getting started with training today.

I stood ramrod straight as Simpson continued to yell. I just stood there and did my best not to smirk.

“The hard deck is five thousand feet above ground level. A parameter is set not just for the safety of our pilots, but for their safety of their aircraft. Five thousand feet is not just a rule. It is a law, as immutable as gravity.”

I crossed my hands behind my back and said “The hard deck will be much lower for the mission, sir.”

“And it will not change without my approval, especially not in the middle of an exercise!” I opened my mouth to speak but the admiral was not done.

“And that cobra maneuver of yours? That could’ve gotten all three of you killed! I never want to see that shit again. What exactly do you suppose you were teaching, captain?”

Finally able to speak, I uttered “That as good as they are, sir, they still have something to learn.”

An exasperated look appeared on Simpson’s face and I had to fight back the smirk that was threatening to appear on my face.

Finally he said, “You are talking about the best fighter pilots on the planet, captain.”

“And they’ve been told that their entire career, while they’ve been dropping bombs from a high altitude with little to no dogfighting.” I paused the carried on. “The parameters of this mission call for something they have never encountered.”

Simpson seemed to contemplate this for a moment then spoke “Okay, you have less than three weeks to teach them how to fight as a team and how to strike the target.”

I didn’t hesitate to say “And how to come home.” He gave me another look so I repeated myself. “And how to come home, sir.”

The admiral fell back in his seat and softly said “Every mission has its risks. These pilots accept that.”

I arched my brow and said rather defiantly “I don’t, sir.”

That seemed to light a fire beneath his ass because he belted out “Every morning, from this day forward, you will brief us on your instructional plans in writing. And nothing will change without my express approval.”

“Including the hard deck, sir?” I asked. Followed by “Especially the hard deck, captain.”

I nodded then took the file I had and plopped it on his desk. “Sir.”

His brow arched and said “What is this?”

I unfolded my hands and answered him. “It’s a request to lower the hard deck, sir, to practice a low-level bombing run per the mission parameters.”

Another exasperated look later, I was outside his office with approval to practice on a lower level deck.

“You could learn a thing or two about timing, captain.” Warlock spoke as I made my exit. I just gave him a smile and went on to tell my pilots to meet me at the beach for some football…with a twist that is.

Phantom’s P.O.V

For whatever reason, Maverick wanted all of us to meet him at the beach. That meant having to wear beach attire. And be around Maverick while doing so.

“Ughh…”I audibly groaned as I sifted through my closet for a suitable swimsuit. Nerves had my entire body shaking. There was no way I could do this. What would Maverick think?

Oh God. Maverick would see me in my swimsuit. Nope, nopeity nope nope nope. I wanted to pull my hair out. My heart was racing and I was on the verge of a breakdown.

I paced back and forth and stopped in front of the mirror. I needed to breathe. I was totally overthinking this. Just pick out a top and just wear some shorts.

Everything was going to be okay. I just needed to chill the hell out.

I was so not chilled out. It was hot as fuck outside but that wasn’t the reason why I sweating so hard. I was practically bouncing on my heels when Phoenix approached me with a concerned look on her face.

“What’s got your panties in a wad Phantom?” She eyed me up and down and fought back a smirk. “Or should I say who?” She quipped and I just glared.

“Shut up.” I said, crossing my arms over my exposed chest. I mean I had a swimsuit top on so I wasn’t fully exposed but still. It felt like I was exposed. I don’t know why I was reacting this way considering I’ve been to the beach in my swimsuit before with everyone.

“Come on…maybe we can get these nerves out of you but first…sunscreen.” She whipped out a bottle of spray sunscreen then began to hose me down with it.

“Okay that’s enough!” I waved my hand around at all of the excess sunscreen going around and said “Your turn!” I took the can and made sure she was covered just like she did with me.

“Damn, you’re going to use the whole can up!” “I’m just showing you the same courtesy you showed me!” I laughed then set the can down and immediately I felt impending doom. I knew I was being stupid but that man made me nervous even when I was upset with him.

“Let’s go.” Phoenix practically yelled and I set off after her.

My feet hit the hot sand and I dug my toes in, feeling a bit better. I loved the beach so maybe today wouldn’t be too bad even though we were basically going to be dogfighting but with a football?

I don’t know whose idea that was but it was going to be interesting.

We walked all the way to where the water was and someone yelled our names. I looked over and saw Rooster waving us over.

“It’s so weird being the only two girls out of this whole bunch.”

I shrugged and said “Yeah but we can sure fly a whole lot better.”

“You got that right!” Both giggling, we finally made our way to the group, everyone slapping each other’s hands in greeting.

“What do we have here?” Hangman’s voice pierced my ear. I turned towards him with my arms crossed.

“Think you can handle a little football gals?” He teased. I scoffed, typical Hangman.

“Please…us girls will be the ones to beat you.” Natasha spoke confidently. I just stood there as Hangman boasted.

“We’ll see about that.” Finally catching my eye, he winked then swaggered away. I waited until he was far enough away and said “I wish someone would just knock his ass out.” Natasha laughed.

“Oh I know what you mean. He is a pain in the ass.”

“Most definitely.”

We were all gathered in a big huddle with no idea where Maverick was. It was four in the afternoon, the time he told us to be here and yet he wasn’t here. Typical Maverick.

Suddenly, Hangman and Coyote yelled out “Yo Rooster! Where is Maverick?” Having no idea why Hangman would think Rooster knows where he is at, I shook my head but the jumped at the sound of another voice.

“I’m right here Hangman.” The voice was eerily close so I turned around to see Maverick standing there with two footballs in his hands but that is not what caught me off guard.

Shirtless and with sweat already glistening down his torso, I almost fainted right then and there. I had never seen him with his shirt off before and would have never thought his body would have looked like that. This old school fighter pilot was packing some rock hard abs and was more attractive than any of these other buffoons with us at the beach.

Apparently I was staring because Phoenix elbowed me, making me look over at her so I said “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh I know why you are so nervous now. You have the hots for Mr.Maverick over here.” She snickered and my face immediately went red like a tomato. “I was so right! You are blushing!” She squealed and I immediately put my hand over her mouth and dragged her away.

“Shut up! I don’t need everyone to hear you blurt that out!” Phoenix was still giggling but then suddenly her eyes went wide and I moved my hand from her mouth.

“What is it?” I practically squeaked.

A smirk spread across her mouth and she just pointed to whatever was behind me and I could feel my chest tighten up.

Oh boy.

I turned around, glad I had my sunglasses on and saw Maverick standing there with his signature smile. I melted into a puddle at that moment.

Watching as his eyes glazed over my body, I choked up even more, practically paralyzed.

“Phantom.” was all he said as he smiled and walked past me,

My heart thudded and I raised my hand to my chest.

Yeah, that man was going to be the death of me.

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