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hellfire--cult · 5 months

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Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

wc: 10.1k

HEAVY TRIGGER WARNINGS: +18, suicide attempt, reader is suicidal, PAS (Physician Assisted Suicide), neglectful parents, weed and alcohol, feelings of loneliness, hurt/comfort (?), fluff, kissing, some mentions of nausea, smut implication, angst. So much angst.

Plot: Eddie was new to the group, and he connected with you after an unfortunate event. You were excited to finally put an end to your suffering, of all those years of feeling nothing, and you had made a list of things to do before going.

a/n: I cannot stress this enough, please, do not read if this will be triggering for you. If you read PAST the warnings, it is your own responsibility, and I will not hold myself accountable for it.

This is somewhat inspired by the movie and book Me Before You. So yeah, have fun.

Always reblog your artists, likes don't do much.

Please, Trust Me

Eddie came into the group a little bit late, so to speak.

He was assigned to do a project alongside Steve Harrington in Psychology class. College was just something Eddie wanted to focus on studying since he had a reputation of repeating his senior year two times in a row, but Steve was friendly. Eddie, well, he didn’t realize how badly he needed social interaction until then.

So Steve introduced him to his group. Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, and you. Now, Eddie got to know everyone, except yourself. As Nancy put it, you were in many extracurricular classes, so your time was limited. Eddie, of course, understood, but he also felt you were scared of him somehow. You always averted your gaze from him in the little moments you spent together, so he gave up on trying to talk further with you.

Holidays were approaching, and Eddie had the opportunity that his uncle was leaving the nice house he finally got to purchase near lover’s lake in Hawkins, his hometown, so he thought it would be a great idea to invite everyone over… Well, not everyone.

Since he thought you were scared of him, he believed the invitation would be rejected, but everyone else agreed to come over to his place. It was just a two-hour drive, and he couldn’t wait to get drunk and high with everyone else.

Robin told him that you didn’t have time anyway to assist, seeing that you were going to visit your mother for Christmas, so Eddie’s guilt vanished completely. He felt horrible for not inviting you, that’s why he asked Robin to ask you about your plans for Christmas.

So off they went, having a great time by the lake, drinking beer, eating grilled burgers and sausages, and then on Christmas night, the fireworks went off, and everyone was already drunk by that time, messaging loved ones and wishing them great holidays.

The next day, you called Robin, wishing her a happy Christmas. Eddie was packing the suitcase to go back to Indianapolis, when he overheard Robin tell you that they were spending New years there too, completely surprising him. He expected to return on the 26th, but he was excited to spend more time with his friends. Once again, you told Robin that it was fine since you were still at your mom’s.

And so, new years went by. Now on the 2nd of January, they all finally returned completely drained from all the alcohol and food, but still with smiles on their faces. Robin then turned to Eddie with an innocent smile on her face as she sat on the passenger’s seat.

“Eds, can you drive me to Y/N’s place? I want to show her the rocks we picked up at the lake, and I will likely stay the night at her apartment.” She batted her eyelashes at him and he rolled his own eyes.

“Okay, let’s take you to the rich girl’s place.” You explained to the group that you weren’t good with a roommate, so you rented a place near the campus to live in until your studies finished. Eddie realized you weren’t a middle-class person just by knowing that, and he doesn’t know why you would choose a college like this one instead of Harvard or something like that, as rich people do in movies.

Robin met you thanks to you being signed up to tutor her in a particular class she was struggling with. She and you immediately clicked, despite you acting a bit shy and reserved at first, as if not trusting Robin at all, like a scared animal in the wild meeting another species.

Once they arrived at your apartment complex, Robin once more looked at Eddie with a pouty lip.

“And help me with my bag? My shoulders hurt from swimming all week…” And once more, Eddie rolled his eyes, sighing as the two of them got out of his van and he went to the back to get hold of her bag, swinging it over his shoulder.

“You can just say you are lazy as fuck Buckley.” She giggled at his response and they both walked into the reception, calling the elevator to go up to your floor. Once they were at your door, Robin knocked a few times, only to be met with no response. Her smile faded slightly and she tried again, and once more, met with silence.

“Maybe she didn’t return from her mom’s.” And she bent down to look under your mat, finding the spare key. You told her she was welcome at any time, to simply look under the mat for the key and make herself comfortable, knowing Robin likes some quiet away from the dorms now and then.

She opened the door–

“Hey, you–”

And she and Eddie immediately winced at the strong smell of unwashed dishes or something of the sort.

“Jesus Christ, what is that smell? Did she forget to wash the dishes before leaving?” Eddie replied, looking over at the kitchen counter, his eyes furrowing together as he looked at a particular tray that was filled with gingerbread men cookies. They were all with a bit of fungus, and one had been bitten, one of its arms missing.

Robin closed the door behind her as she looked around, finding that there were bottles of different alcoholic beverages on the sink, a cup of ramen noodles on the coffee table in front of the TV, half-eaten, and then she spotted the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room.

She remembers how excited you were, buying your tree, telling her that you never had the chance of decorating one before because it wasn’t truly celebrated in your household. Dread immediately invaded her as she remembered that, slowly walking towards it and Eddie following behind, dropping Robin’s bag to the floor.

Robin gasped as she kneeled to the floor, finding different presents under the tree, one for each person in the group, including Eddie. His heart plummeted to the floor as Robin showed him the small present, and you didn’t even know what he liked, yet you bought something for him.

Robin then turned while getting up, looking towards the door of your bedroom that was shut. She rushed towards it and she felt her heart starting to want to come out of her mouth as she swung it open as quickly as she could.

And there you were, in your bed, resting, and Robin felt herself breathe in relief, but Eddie didn’t. Not when he noticed the bottle of wine next to you, on your nightstand.

“Maybe she didn’t think she was gonna go to her mom’s and she forgot about the cookies.” Robin said as if almost trying to convince herself. Trying to make a reasonable explanation other than the most horrible one that she could think of because of course, she doubted it when you said you were visiting your mom.

Because you mentioned to her that you two weren’t close.

Eddie slowly walked towards you, not caring about the smell that lingered in your room, knowing that you probably hadn’t showered or cleaned the place in a while. He looked down on you, tilting his head. You had the blankets all over you while you rested on your belly, eyes completely closed.

He raised a hand towards your face, under your nose, and his breathing stopped. Your breaths were slow, not even deep, and you were drooling, all over your pillow. He grabbed onto the edge of the blanket and Robin moved to stop him, yet he yanked it off.

“Robin… call 911.”

But Robin was frozen as she looked at your frame, her lip starting to shake as she inspected your right hand. A hand that was holding something that looked empty. Something that she saw was half full the last time she came over.

That orange flask that contained your sedatives.

And you chugged them down with alcohol.

Steve was rubbing Robin’s back as she sobbed into her hands, hunched over the chair of the waiting room. Eddie was on her other side, his leg bouncing up and down as he bit his nails. One day he was laughing with everyone and now he is waiting for some good news regarding your health, someone he barely knows, yet he is worried shitless for.

Loud heels were heard across the hallway, a woman in her late 40’s, wearing designer clothes, looking rather stern as she got closer to the door of the room you are in. Her arms are crossed as she stands next to it, tapping her heel on the floor, catching the attention of the three people sitting on the chairs.

“Excuse me?” Robin’s weak voice called out and the lady snapped her head towards her with an eyebrow raised up.

“Yes?”

“Who are you?”

“I am this girl’s mother. Who are you?”

And the three friends froze in their seats. It was your mother. The person you supposedly spent the holidays with, yet, she didn’t look concerned for you, but rather she looked angry, or disappointed.

“We– We’re her friends.” Robin replied with a small voice, because could she even say that? Do you deserve someone like her as a friend? Even as a partner? Someone who forgets what you told them almost a year ago? The woman scoffed, shaking her head.

“Friends? That is surprising. Were you there when she did this?” Her voice was cold, and anger started filling inside of Eddie’s chest. Why is she acting this way when her child is inside that room, fighting for her life? A life she almost took herself?

“N-No, we found her like that…” Robin looked back down again and Eddie could only look at her wrecked face with pity, yet, he could not comfort her.

“I see. Did the doctor come out or something yet? I have somewhere to be, and I cannot waste my time on this. Not again.”

And the three sitting people shot up from their seats, all with alarmed looks on their faces.

“I’m sorry… again?” Robin asked, the answer scaring her yet she needed to know what it meant. She needed to know if she was an even more horrible person than she was ten seconds ago. Your mother scoffed, shaking her head again and Eddie’s hands turned into fists.

“It’s the third time. I already sent her to a psychiatrist, a mental hospital, and therapists, and yet she still tries. That girl has everything, and yet she always craves attention this way. I’m sick of it.”

And Robin wanted to puke, right then and there, while Steve looked at Eddie with tear-filled eyes and the metalhead could see how bad his friend felt. How evil he must feel. Steve gulped and looked back at your mother, clearing his throat to be able to talk.

“W-Why would she do this?” And your mother scoffed, looking for her phone in her purse as she talked.

“Just because I forgot about the holidays and her birthday. I already sent her a message apologizing and telling her she could ask for anything she wanted, but she went and did this.”

And Robin froze.

Birthday.

December 28th.

Your birthday.

And she couldn’t handle it anymore, yanking herself away from Steve to rush towards the toilet. Steve called out to her, rushing to her aid as tears rolled down his cheeks and Eddie was frozen in place.

Not only did you spend the holidays alone, but you also spent your birthday by yourself, while they were all having fun in Hawkins, shooting fireworks and drinking alcohol to their heart's content. And you were alone, with a bottle of wine and instant noodles.

He was about to talk to your mother, about to insult her, to drag her on the floor, but the opening of the door in front of him made him stop in his tracks as the doctor walked out with a board in his hand.

“Okay, so, we got her blood cleaned up. It’s good that you caught her at such an early stage. Her vital signs look stable now, but she will have to stay here for a few days, two tops, so we can monitor her a bit more.” Your mother cleared her throat and the doctor looked up at her with a tilt of his head.

“So, she’s okay.” And there was such coldness in your mother’s voice that Eddie felt his vile rising in his throat. The doctor only sighed, taking his glasses off.

“She is, but we cannot overlook a suicide attempt. Does she have anyone to talk to? Maybe I can give you brochures for–”

“I already sent her to an institution once, but it didn't work. That child is an attention seeker, pay it no mind.”

Eddie’s eyes were burning in anger at her words and the doctor looked as surprised and hurt as he did. He cannot bear to hear your mother’s words any longer, so little care, with lack of empathy and lack of love. He wondered how many things you endured with a woman like this in your life, and honestly, he was afraid of finding out.

“W-Well, since you’re the mother, maybe you should–”

“She is a grown woman now. She can make her own decisions as you can see. I shall not worry about her anymore.” And just like that, the heels echoed in the hallway once more and Eddie’s eyes were wide as he looked at her retreating figure. A mother leaving her child after they tried to end their life, like no care in the world, as if she hadn’t given them their life to begin with.

Three times? Three times she did this? Walking away from you? How could she call you an attention seeker? How could she even acknowledge something like that when you were screaming for help?

“Ahem.”

Eddie blinked as he looked towards the doctor who had a confused yet pained look on his face.

“She is awake if you want to see her. I assume you are a friend of hers?”

Is he? He is not a friend, but you cannot be alone, not here, not right now. Robin is probably trying to breathe while Steve is comforting her, but maybe… Eddie knows you probably don’t want to see them either. None of that group. So he gave the doctor a nod, and he slowly opened the door of the white room.

His eyes scanned it, and finally, they landed on you. Your arms were connected to an IV and a blood transfusion bag, the heart rate monitor beeping right next to you as your back rested against the pillows, letting you sit on the bed. You looked emotionless. Eyes empty. Hand on each side of your body and Eddie knew your mind, your feelings, were completely shut off.

He gulped with nerves and the door closed behind him, making him wince, but it alarmed you that someone came into the room, making you look up. Your eyes twitched in surprise, yet if you were, you didn’t express it, nor show it.

“I guess you’re the one that found me?” Your voice was empty, with no tone, as if it were a recording or an AI robot. Eddie slowly nodded as he took a few steps toward the chair that was on the other side of the bed.

“Robin and I found you.” You gave a slow nod, looking back down to your lap. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know anything about you but he feels like he should have. He cleared his throat to continue talking. “I, uh, liked the necklace you got me. Pretty metal.” He winced at his words because it was something he shouldn’t have brought up at all.

Your eyes raised to meet his, another nod going towards his way, diverting your eyes back to your lap. He looked around for a second, the nerves all over his body. He was almost trembling with the need to talk to you, but what can he say? What could be something you want to hear right now? And coming from him?

“Ask away.” He startled at your voice, jumping on his seat as he looked at you once more.

“What?”

“I know you want to ask. And maybe you can also help me by telling the rest about it and how I am not going to talk to them again.” You were still not looking at him and he cleared his throat as he felt his mouth going dry, but now he knew you weren’t going to talk to the others about this. The relationship is already broken inside of you.

“I– Okay, um… I guess the first question is, why?” He slowly asked, afraid of even being able to talk to you about this, but sometimes they say that a stranger is the best listener, and maybe Eddie was just that.

“Why… Only child, homeschooled all my life so no interaction whatsoever with the world, absent mother, holidays and birthdays by myself, father was never found. Need to say more?”

And shit, Eddie was not expecting that at all. You had been miserable from the very beginning, unwanted by your own mother, and now he realized how horrible you must have felt with the whole group. Your first ever friends and they forgot every single detail of you. How you never spent a holiday with people, and was so excited you even baked cookies to share and bought presents for a gift exchange, your first ever most likely, only to never happen.

And now, he realized that… His other friends do not deserve any kind of pity, or forgiveness.

“Okay, then… Why were you scared of me?” At his question, your eyebrow raised up, and turned your head to look at him.

“Is that what you thought?” You asked with complete confusion in her tone. He looked at you with his own frown, tilting his head.

“Well yeah, you avoided me like the plague…” And you looked up at the ceiling, closing your eyes, and shaking your head with a sigh.

“No. I don’t trust people easily as you can see.” You looked down at your lap once again and he wanted to sigh a little bit in relief at that, knowing that his clothes or his whole demeanor didn’t actually scare her. She was just shy and probably nervous.

“Right… Um, Robin and Steve are here as well, do you want me to–”

“No. I don’t want to see them.” And your words spoke for your pain, and Eddie was not going to argue against it. They honestly didn’t deserve your forgiveness or kindness, that much he knew, but he also felt guilty. Really guilty.

“I– I am sorry… I didn’t invite you because I really thought you hated me– and I took everyone away, I didn’t know any of this, I am so sorry if I knew–”

“You weren’t the one who forgot. You don’t know me, but they did.” He gave you a nod in understanding, yet the guilt is still lingering in his stomach. He cleared his throat and he wanted to ease the tension for you, to relieve the somber moment that filled the room.

“So uh, you knew I liked Metallica huh? Is it because of the hundreds of shirts that I own?” Your eyebrow raised at him and you turned to face him while he gave you a cheeky smile of his own. You squinted slightly at him, but a small tug on the corner of your lips gave you away.

“Well yeah, all the times I’ve seen you it was either Metallica or Black Sabbath. It had to be one of the two.”

“What if I only liked their logos, huh?” At that, you rolled your eyes at him, but he kept making jokes at you, and a giggle here and there could be heard in the room.

Robin and Steve were hearing the both of you outside your room. They looked at each other for a minute before hesitantly walking away. Robin turned her head at almost every step, wanting to barge into the room to hug you, to say she was sorry. But she knew it meant nothing, not anymore, and not ever again.

What she did, what they did, cannot be fixed.

Eddie was lounging with his headphones on as he listened to music while resting against a tree trunk. He was bobbing his head as he wrote some lyrics on the notebook he had over his leg. For the past three days, he hasn’t heard of you. He tried visiting you yesterday only to find out you were discharged and he felt too embarrassed to just go to your apartment.

He had also distanced himself from the group. It didn’t sit right to be with people who could easily forget about something so important like a birthday. You didn’t have any social media, so the least they could do is put the birthday in their own cell phones, like Eddie did as soon as he left the hospital.

It’s not like he didn’t talk to them, he just made excuses when they asked to hang out with him. He just couldn’t shake off the bad vibes from it all.

He looked up from his lap only for his eyes to bulge out of his skull as he saw you almost prancing in happiness while walking through campus. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? He immediately put his notebook into his backpack and pulled his headphones down, resting them around his neck. He got up, almost tripping as he did so, as he rushed towards you.

“Hey! Hey!” He yelled at you to catch your attention as he got closer. You turned to face him, still with a wide smile on your face.

“Hi, Eddie.” You were smiling, that’s good, that’s really good. He was almost breathing heavily from the run he just did. He wasn’t athletic and the smoking surely doesn’t do him any good.

“Yeah– I just– give me a minute.” He huffed as he tried taking a deep breath in, and you giggled motioning to him to sit on a bench near the both of you. You sat down as soon as he plopped down, taking another huff of air as he turned his head to look at you. “So, what got you all smiley?”

“Well, I just dropped out of college!” You announced with a smile and jazz hands, startling Eddie completely. His face was contorted in confusion and wonder.

“What? Why? You didn’t like what you were studying?” You shook your head as you looked at the horizon, not anything in particular.

“It’s just pointless now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to California in three months.” Your head turned to look at him still with a smile on your face. “I’ve been offered P.A.S.”

He frowned, not knowing what those syllables meant at all. He tried putting them together in his head but nothing was coming up.

“What’s that?”

And Eddie didn’t know why you opened up to him with that. He didn’t know why he didn’t care that you did. He didn’t know why this relationship between the two of you evolved in this manner, as quickly as it did… but he never expected to hear the response you gave him.

“Physician Assisted Suicide.”

And now, Eddie knew that term, and his eyes bulged out of his skull. You were… offered that? How can that happen? You had no health issues to go through something like that, so why would you consider that? Why would the doctors even consider that for you? His heart was just hammering in his chest as dread invaded his gut.

“W-What? Why– how?” He was speechless, not really knowing what he was asking or what he wanted to know at this point. He felt his gut turning at the information like he couldn’t believe someone as young as yourself could even consider that way out.

“Well, it was due to all my medical records, be it psychological and physical. My mindset never changed.” Your gaze turned from him to nothingness once more. “I go, get help, only to get out and for everything to be the same. It never changes, because it was never me who had to change.”

Eddie slowly blinked at your wording and his eyes drifted to the sky as his thoughts raced through his mind. Can he even talk you out of this? How can he even do that? You seem happy, way too happy with this solution… You were excited.

“You’re not… scared?”

“No. Not at all. I am ready to go. My heart can barely handle it anymore.” And Eddie’s eyes turned towards the profile of your face. You had made your decision clear, and he wouldn’t be able to stop you now. No one can. The group was no longer part of your life, your mother didn’t care about your decision so it seems… and he is no one to stop you.

“Alright… You– um, what are you gonna do until… you know, then?” He asked and you smiled at him, grabbing your backpack to take out your notebook, and flipping a page to show him a list, which made him frown in confusion.

“These are things I never tried because the opportunity never presented itself. Before, I didn’t know–” You cut your voice short at what you were about to say, and then you continued. “Now that I know when it’s gonna happen, I don’t want to go with any regrets.”

Eddie looked at the list, and he couldn’t believe… how trivial some of these things were.

- Go to an amusement park

- Smoke a cigarette

- Buy a Barbie Dreamhouse

- Eat a cake for breakfast

- Get high

And then he saw more complicated ones.

- Go skydiving

- Learn to drive (or attempt)

- Try to skateboard

- Ride on a jet ski

- Attempt to make a rainbow cake

And so many more. You had filled an entire page with things you wanted to do and he looked up at you to see you looking up at the sky with a smile on your lips.

“I think I should get the Barbie Dreamhouse first. Oh, maybe get some alcohol, I never got fully drunk, but maybe tonight I can since I don’t have to wake up early anymore–” And you went on with your plans and Eddie was just staring at you as the thoughts ran through his brain.

Everyone else was walking all around the two of you, and nobody knew that you were going to die in three months. No one knew you had made an entire bucket list with things to do before going. No one knew about this decision of yours, and he wasn’t going to let you be alone in this. He doesn’t want you to live these last few weeks with no one at your side.

“You know, or I can make one of your wishes on the list come true.” Your head snapped towards him with a surprised look on your face.

“Oh, what?” And a smirk formed on Eddie’s lips.

“Getting high.”

“Did you prepare the pan?”

“Uh…”

“Eddie!”

He immediately rushed to grab onto the pan as he burst into giggles thanks to the weed in his system. The munchies came to life with you two after smoking a whole joint from Eddie’s stash. You had the open bag of pizza rolls in your hands, the oven already turned on as you waited for Eddie to put some oil spray on the pan.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just– I was stuck looking at the wall.” He simply replied to you, making you burst into laughter, trying not to let the pizza rolls fall to the ground. He followed you with chuckles as he sprayed the pan and handed it to you so you could throw the pizza rolls on it and then begin cooking them in the oven.

You were relaxed, that much Eddie knew, and he was smiling as you tip-toed in a dance towards your couch, plopping down. He followed soon after, sitting next to you. You giggled as you stared at the ceiling.

“I feel like I’m on a cloud.” Eddie stared at your profile for a while before he began talking once more.

“I wanna help.”

“Hmm?” You turned to face him still with a dopey smile on your face.

“I want to help you complete some things on your list.”

And your smile fell as if becoming sober out of nowhere. Eddie then gulped but his resolution was already said and you moved uncomfortably in your place.

“You don’t have to pity me. I can do these–”

“No, you can’t. Learning to drive a car? How do you plan to do that?” At that, you opened and closed your mouth many times and then cleared your throat.

“An instructor!” Eddie rolled his eyes at that, and put his hand up, his fingers up.

“Getting drunk, you need supervision.” He put a finger down. “Going to a concert, you’re gonna get squashed.” He put another one down. “Playing Mortal Kombat, you need an enemy.” He put another and then you stopped him completely, shoving his hand down.

“Okay, okay, okay! I see your stupid point.” You sighed as you threw your head back against the headrest of the couch, looking at your ceiling. He knew you were overthinking it, but he honestly wanted to help you in any way he could.

“C’mon, there are a few things in your list I am dying to try too. Like– Eating Argentinian food. I never tried that shit, I bet it’s fucking delicious.” You giggled at his expression and then nodded at him.

“Okay, fine. You can help. You will also help me bake that stupid rainbow cake I always wanted to try.” He laughed at that with a shake of his head.

“Another thing I never did in my life was bake. It’s gonna be a journey. Do you have insurance here? We might burn it all down.” At that you punched his shoulder lightly, causing him to laugh it out followed by your giggle.

And what a journey it was gonna be.

“Seriously, YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO GET ME INTO THIS TOO!” Eddie almost screamed as he looked out the window of the helicopter with a frightened look on his face. Harnesses were all around his body, a man behind him strapping himself closer to Eddie’s back.

You were in front of him, holding your laughter as you held onto a handle on the side of the big machine that was now miles and miles above the ground. The helmets on both of your heads almost crushed your skulls but the protection was needed. Another man was strapping himself to you behind your back.

“Oh come on! You wanted to try new things!” You yelled at him so he could hear you over the loud sound of the helicopter.

“Yes! BUT NOT SKYDIVING! I WAS HAPPY TO WAIT FOR YOU WITH EARTH BENEATH MY FEET!” He yelled back and you were trying really hard to contain your laughter. Suddenly the big door next to the both of you slid open and the wind immediately pushed your body and Eddie’s back from the force but the guys remained still as they held onto the handles above the door.

“You guys ready!?” The one behind you asked and Eddie rolled his eyes behind the goggles.

“DO I HAVE A FUCKING CHOICE?”

“Nope.” The guy behind him said before jumping out with no warning, dragging Eddie with him, and then the guy strapped to you followed close behind. You were screaming your lungs out, and Eddie was shrieking. The adrenaline of falling was making him feel butterflies in his belly, almost making him feel sick.

He can hear you closer now and he raised his head to see you in front of him with your arms splayed out and reaching out for him. He could hear your laughter through your screaming and he reached out, fighting the strong wind, to finally lock his hands with yours as you two were freefalling towards the ground.

He couldn’t help but smile and cheer out from how extreme the whole situation was. He didn’t know how you weren’t hungover, you had gotten yourself as drunk as possible yesterday night while dancing to his music. He showed you how to headbang properly, and he took care of you when you started letting the contents out in the toilet.

He held your hands as tightly as possible, your fingers intertwined with his, as you both yelled with excitement and fear as you plummeted down and down. You only separated when the men behind your backs tapped on your sides so they could pull the parachute open.

Your bodies jerked as you started floating in the sky, and Eddie was left laughing as you both glided downwards towards the ground again. He could see the entire city and the fields as you both kept coming down. He turned his head to see you laughing as well, your head looking up at the sky in bliss and he felt his heart tug on him slightly.

Once you two touched earth again, Eddie let the air out of his lungs with relief and the guy behind him unstrapped himself so Eddie could catch a proper breath, taking the goggles and helmet off. You followed a few seconds later, walking towards him with a smile on your face and taking your goggles off.

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” You were breathing heavily and he scoffed at you with a shake of his head, flicking his fingers on your forehead.

“I won’t let you drag me into something like this ever again.”

You laughed at him and you both walked back to Eddie’s van after you paid for the experience. You didn’t let Eddie pay at all, since you dragged him into it. He was going to invite you for dinner though, and you wanted McDonalds, so he was driving back towards town as you two talked in the van.

“So, you never told me about your parents.” You blurted out, catching him by surprise, but you were indeed right. He gripped his steering wheel a little tighter, but he kept a small smile on his face.

“Oh, where to begin? My mother died when I was young and my Father was… very abusive, and often dragged me into stealing with him. He got caught and he’s been in jail for a while now, he’s charged with robbery and homicide attempt.” He took a big gulp in as he kept driving, not used to letting people into his life in this way. “But, my uncle Wayne took me in at fifteen. He is the father figure my father failed to be.”

You were silent as you listened to him. He didn’t hear anything from you so he turned to face you, only to see you looking at him with tears running down your cheeks. He wondered what was going on in your head at that point. He was about to ask you what was wrong and you sniffled, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand.

“I’m– sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.” You said regretfully and he instantly shook his head.

“No, no… don’t worry. I’m past it.” He was worried about what you were thinking about at the moment since you remained silent for a while.

“I’m a little jealous to be honest… You had someone that…” And he waited for you to continue, but when you didn’t, he pressed forward.

“Someone that what?”

“Wanted you.”

And his heart broke at that, immediately so, and he knew his eyes started burning from the incoming tears and he shook his head to keep focused on driving. You didn’t need him to cry, you didn’t need that.

But should he tell you what he thinks? Should he tell you what has been on his mind for the past month that he helped you tick things off your list?

“I–”

“Oh! Before I forget–” You looked through your purse, pulling out your phone as you started scrolling, and he frowned as he tried to look at what you were doing and then back at the road. You giggled and moved away so he couldn’t see. “No peeking!”

“Oh come on, you can’t just do that and not expect me to be anxious!” He laughed as he kept his gaze on the road and then he saw light in his peripheral vision and he looked quickly to see you were showing your phone to him. He switched from the road and to your phone but he couldn’t quite read it. “What’s that?”

“You know how one of the things was to go to a concert?” He nodded and you giggled, putting your phone down again. “I got us two tickets to go see Megadeth!”

His jaw could just fall from his skull at this point as he tried to focus on driving and not the shock from those news. Did you say Megadeth? Are you serious? Eddie has been dying to see them live but when he got into the virtual line they got sold out in just a few seconds.

“What?!” He yelled and you kicked your feet on your seat as you stared down at the phone. He was speechless, a smile spreading on his face, only for it to fall back down. “Wait, do you even LIKE Megadeth!?”

“Well, I haven’t heard much, BUT YOU LIKE THEM, and I assumed that we should go to a concert we both can enjoy. I doubt you want to go to a Taylor Swift concert.” You replied with a wiggle of your eyebrows only for him to scoff.

“Taylor Swift has some sick songs. But– Yes, I do prefer Megadeth sweetheart.” He smiled widely at you and then looked back at the road, cheering as he hit the steering wheel with excitement. “Fuck yeah!”

You were laughing on the passenger’s seat and Eddie was smiling all the while as realization started to dawn on him that… he may like something more than Megadeth’s music.

It was a special kind of tune.

“Seriously, how long are you gonna take darling, we had to go like yesterday!” Eddie yelled with a pissed-off tone as he paced in your living room.

“It’s my first time wearing something like this, it needs to be perfect!” He heard you yell from the bathroom and he sighed, but a smile was splayed on his lips. He was looking out the window as he waited for you in his Megadeth tank top with a black leather jacket on top. He heard the bathroom click open and he sighed in relief, turning around with a roll of his eyes.

“Finally–” And his breath was knocked out of his lungs. Your hair was messy, completely batted, wearing heavy black makeup on your eyes, strong lipstick on your lips, a black top with a black long-sleeved fishnet shirt on top, and then black leather pants below. You gave him a twirl and wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“So!? I had to look at a tutorial on YouTube to get this done, but I think I did pretty good–”

“You look beautiful.” And it was natural. It came out without doubt, without him thinking too much about it, and you were shocked, yet, he noticed how you diverted your gaze away from him, and he chuckled at how embarrassed you got from a compliment regarding your physique.

“I– uh, it isn’t weird?” You asked and Eddie knew you felt a little self-conscious of how different you looked. But you were indeed beautiful, this just enhanced it in ways he didn’t think could be possible and he felt his knees bending for you.

“It isn’t darling…”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you and Eddie could only stare at you as he walked closer to your frame. He saw how your shoulders went up and down a littler harder than before, signaling him that you were taking deeper breaths, maybe from nervousness, he didn’t know.

“Um–”

“Sweetheart…” You finally looked at him and he smiled, rolling his eyes. “Can we please go now!?”

And you giggled at him, the tension leaving the both of you as you made your way out to head to his van.

The ride to the stadium was filled with music, mostly Megadeth which you started listening to since you showed Eddie the tickets three weeks ago. Today signaled the second month of you two completing your bucket list.

One more month to go.

And the concert was filled with screams and laughter from your part, Eddie protecting you from the people pushing against you, but you didn’t care, experiencing your first concert ever, and you wanted to share it with him. This was your first and last concert, and you decided it was gonna be Megadeth, for his taste.

“That was AWESOME! My neck needs ice from all the headbanging though.” You sighed as you two got back into the van after almost three hours of jumping around. Your make up was smudged, your hair looked a little sweaty, and your lipstick had washed away from the sweat, yet, you looked as beautiful as you did hours ago. Even before the makeup. Maybe even more.

“Hey, you were great for your first metal concert.” You giggled at his words and gave him a nod.

“I am a natural.” You smiled at him and he just kept staring at you, licking his lips as he looked down and then moved his whole body in order to face you. The nerves were almost killing him as he tried to formulate the following words.

“I uh– I can help you cross another thing off your list.” You tilted your head in question and you pulled out your notebook from the bag you left in the van with your bucket list and then a green highlighter.

“What is it?” You smiled at him as you handed them to him and he scanned the whole list, looking for that one thing and when he spotted it, he felt his heart in his throat as he slowly showed it to you, pointing at the line.

Have the first kiss

You blinked once, twice, and then looked up at him with a confused frown in your eyebrows. He gulped loudly and he might have overstepped it, but he still waited for your response and he could see the incoming tears in your eyes as he felt his hands becoming sweaty.

“You– You don’t have to do that… I– You don’t have to do something you don’t want to–”

“I want to. I really want to.”

He could see that you were nervous, looking everywhere but his face. You didn’t reject him. You were worried that he didn’t want to do this and felt pressured because of your list, and that was far from the truth.

“I– How does this go?” And he wanted to smile at your innocence, but he felt sadness that you never experienced any kind of physical interaction in all your life. But he smiled anyway, in order to calm your nerves down. He raised his hand towards your cheek once you moved to face him in the passenger seat. Your breathing hitched at his touch, finally looking at him, directly into his brown eyes.

“Just close your eyes. You can tell me to stop whenever, I won’t pressure you, sweetness.”

And his voice was soft, and caring, his thumb smoothing your cheek in circles and when he saw you close your eyes, he took a deep breath in as he slowly leaned in. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the blood rushing to his head at a quick pace, but he had to focus. He knew his face was flushed, but he couldn’t help it.

He could smell your perfume still, despite all the jumping, all the sweat, it was still lingering on your body. He finally closed the gap between the two of you in a soft peck on the lips, staying there for two seconds before pulling away as a chill ran down his spine. He wanted to dive into it, take your lips completely, but he didn’t want to overstep. He opened his mouth to ask if you were okay, only to be surprised by your hands grasping his face, pulling him towards your mouth again.

He gasped into the kiss, and he took it as a sign that you wanted to know more, experience more, learn more. So he kissed back, his hand moving towards the back of your head in order to push you further into him as you two hovered over the console. He started to move his lips, slowly, and he felt you follow him, hesitant at first, maybe doubting what you were doing.

He was having a hard time focusing on not letting his instincts take over, a very horrible time. This was a bad idea. This was a terrible fucking idea and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to be the one to give this to you, because if someone else did… he wouldn’t be able to bear it. He didn’t want anyone close to you, not like this.

He felt your hands moving to the back of his head, your fingers digging into his curls, and he held a groan in, trying to not let it show how carnal he was becoming. He was nervous but he wanted to see if you wanted to take it even further, so he poked his tongue out, licking your bottom lip tentatively.

He heard a gasp coming from you and he noticed that you didn’t get the idea of what he wanted to do, so he tried again, licking in between your bottom and top lip. You seemed to know what part comes next, so you slowly opened your mouth, and he met his tongue with yours, earning another gasp of surprise.

He wanted to know what thoughts were running in your mind right now as he kissed you. Did you feel the heat rising? Did you feel scared like he does? Did you feel happy? Confused? Nervous? What is going on in that head of yours?

He didn’t want to break it apart, he really didn’t, but it’s been minutes, and he didn’t want to overdo it at all, and he can’t hide his real feelings for much longer. He slowly pulled away from you, the smack of lips separating and vibrating all over the van. You two were breathing heavily as you stared into each other’s eyes.

“So? How was that for a first kiss?” He asked breathlessly and he could see something in your eyes that he couldn’t quite describe. It was a mixture of emotions, not one in particular, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He was still holding onto your face, waiting on your response.

“It–” You opened your mouth to say something, only to shut it seconds after, and then a smirk appeared on your lips, pulling away from him to sit straight in the passenger seat. “I don’t know Munson, got nothing to compare it to.”

His mouth fell open, a laugh escaping his lips as he poked the side of your body, making a giggle escape your lips, flinching away from him as he kept poking you repeatedly.

Yeah… your laugh was better than any song out there.

Five days.

Five days and you were leaving.

And it’s not like you were going to come back. You weren’t going to in any shape or form.

Eddie was lounging on your couch as you put things in cardboard boxes. Things you wanted to donate since you weren’t going to need them any longer. He closed his eyes tightly, his heart aching and wanting to stop you, to yell at you that you didn’t have to do this, not anymore.

“Okay, I think I’m done for today. You sure you don’t want any of this?” You asked him and he felt as if a knife was stabbed into his throat. He wanted to cry like he had been doing alone at night whenever he went to bed. Sleepless nights were plagued by the thought of not seeing you anymore, of not being able to hug you, of not being able ever to cuddle you like he wanted.

“Yeah, pretty sure.” He didn’t want to sound bitter or angry, but he couldn’t hide it. You didn’t acknowledge it of course, so you shrugged, closing the box and standing up from the floor before heading to your room.

He stared at your open door, needing to hype himself up. If it’s not now, he won’t have the chance to do it again. He needs to kiss you once more, he needs to hold you close, he needs to show his feelings through actions.

So he stood up and slowly walked towards your room. You were cleaning up your closet, looking through your shirts. He watched you move through your room, and he looked over to your desk, seeing the almost completed bucket list. Some were just impossible to complete, like riding a kangaroo, but there was a particular one that he wanted to fulfill, and not because it was on the list.

If this was the only chance he could do it, he would take it. You noticed his presence when you turned around with a shirt on your hand and saw him looking at your notebook. You tilted your head to the side as his fingers trailed one particular line that was yet to be highlighted.

“Eds? What’s wrong?” Your voice held worry as you put the shirt back in the closet and Eddie turned his head up to look at you. He turned to close the door behind him, to face you again, taking a few steps forward to stand in front of you.

“I saw one more thing on the list… a thing I want too.” His voice was small, lacking confidence, filled with nerves, but he needed this. He needed you. He hoped he wasn’t getting this wrong, because ever since that kiss the two of you stole glances from one another, laughter as friends turned into flushed giggles.

“And what is that?” You asked with a frown on your eyebrows, in question. He wrapped an arm around your waist, flushing your body to his, his breath most likely hitting your face as he felt your shoulders move even quicker than before, signaling him you were taking fast breaths.

“Do you trust me on this?” You stared up into his eyes for a full five seconds before slowly nodding at him. He lifted his other hand to cup your face in his palm, and he leaned down to take your lips with his.

Electricity ran through his body, and he wanted to smile, he wanted to cry, he wanted to yell, he wanted to rip and break the walls, he needed to destroy something, he needed to hug someone, he needed comfort but he also needed the rage.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding onto him as your lips moved together, soon tongues intertwining as the seconds passed, and your breathing turned jagged as you pulled away for some air. Eddie leaned down to kiss your jaw, startling you, to then move downwards towards your neck, planting soft kisses onto your skin.

A gasp escaped your lips at the sudden sensation, new, raw, and Eddie felt you shiver under his touch, but instead, you were gripping his shoulders in order to pull him closer as the hand that was on your waist started sneaking under the hem of your shirt so he could touch your skin.

“Eddie…” It was a partial moan, but he took it as a green light, moving you towards the bed so he could lay you down but before he crawled on top of you he took the chance to take his jacket off, throwing it across the room, not caring where it landed.

If this was going to be the only time to have you like this, he would make sure to make you feel like the most adored person in the world. He will make sure of it. Even as your moans filled the room, he couldn’t help but want to record them, knowing he won’t ever hear them again.

And that line was highlighted in green when you both woke up the next morning.

Make love

He didn’t want to look at you.

He couldn’t.

The sun was shining through your curtains as you walked around the apartment with the small carry-on waiting for you at the front door. The past few days the two of you dipped into the sheets, all day, cooking when necessary only to return to bed.

He really wanted to cry and yell, and he almost left in the middle of the night in order to not see this day. In order to just run away from the fact this was your last hour with him, and you had asked him to take you to the airport. He can ditch you, tell you he wasn’t going to do it, that you could get a cab.

But he couldn’t do it. His heart was ripping out of his chest at every step you took in your apartment, the seconds ticking closer and closer to the departure of your plane. A plane with no return at all. A one way ticket.

He looked around your apartment, and boxes of stuff that you wanted to donate surrounded him, as well as bags of your clothes. You told Eddie that he was the only one in your will. That fact broke him to the core, knowing that you were leaving everything to him, but the only thing he wanted was you, and you were going to leave him.

He didn’t want your pans, your apartment, your cutlery, your game consoles, or TVs. He wanted you, and only you. He didn’t notice that his tears were falling down his face as the lump in his throat became bigger and harder to swallow at every gulp he tried to take.

“Okay, I think I’m–” You stopped on your tracks when you saw his profile, noticing the tears, your eyes widening as you approached him, your hands cupping his cheeks for him to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re leaving me.” He wasn’t going to hold back his feelings anymore. He showed you through his actions, but he never said them out loud, and the least he can do is let you know this.

“What–”

“I love you.” Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open at his confession, but Eddie didn’t stop talking. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and fuck, you need to know how much I fucking want you.”

You were stunned into the ground and that’s when Eddie turned to look at you, only to see tears running down your face as you covered your mouth, taking steps away from him.

“You– You can’t say that to me, not now. Please– Please– not now.” You were choking into your sobs as he stood in front of you, coughing to be able to speak.

“I– I want you to stay… Please, don’t take that flight… I beg of you, please, stay with me…” His lip was trembling as he felt nausea fill his stomach, taking a few steps towards you as the crying finally was heard through the apartment.

“I– I don’t need your pity! I– I am happy I am doing this! You’re lying in order for me to stay, and I’m not going to buy it!” You yelled through your sobs, and Eddie felt his chest ripping open at your thoughts.

“I am not lying! I am in love with you! Why can’t you believe that!?” He was screaming now, trying to get his point across but you also didn’t back down, yelling back to him with the same confusion, with the same anger, with the same sadness.

“Because how can I trust that!? How can I trust you!?” And Eddie grabbed you onto your shoulders, squeezing you tightly in order for you to look at him and not run away. His eyes were on fire as he gazed at you through his tears.

“Trust me just like you trusted me to hold your hair back when you got too drunk and you were in the toilet! Trust me just like you trusted me to teach you how to drive! Trust me just like you trusted me to protect you in your first night club outing! Trust me just like you trusted me when I made love to you!”

And the screaming ceased, eyes locked into one another’s, tears still streaming down, never stopping, heavy breathing trembling against every wall. You were shaking under his touch, your lips trembling as your hands shook on your sides while he still gripped onto your shoulders. You opened your mouth to talk once more, your voice small, broken.

“You… One day you will get tired of me, but you will feel bad for leaving me, so you won’t… I can’t– I can’t chain you like that–” Your voice was breaking his heart, even more than before, and he shook his hair desperately as he let go of your shoulders so he could grab your hands and hold them with his, getting closer to you.

“No, no… I won’t ever get tired of you… Not you, not in a million years…”

“Eds…”

“Please… Please don’t go… Please, trust me.”

You sobbed a gulp of air and you raised in order to give him a soft kiss on the lips. His breathing hitched at it, but kissed you back, dread filling his core, every vein, every blood cell instantly freezing at what the future will hold, of what this kiss meant. You pulled away with a small smile on your face. Small, authentic, yet sad.

“I love you, Eddie… I’m sorry…”

And your flight took off that day.

“Mr. Munson…”

“Mr. Munson!”

Eddie jolted in his seat as he put his wallet down to look up at his group of students. Gregory was raising his hand and Eddie pointed at him so he knew he was acknowledged.

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What’s wrong Mr. Gill?” He asked and his student asked something about the textbook they were all reading. His college students. He began explaining the paragraph that seemed like a puzzle to students from the book “Down the Rabbit Hole”.

He graduated in Psychology three years ago. He was offered a job as a professor in the same college he graduated from, and he was more than happy to pass his knowledge to other students to help them understand how the brain works, and the many branches that can come out of it after every single situation in life. Traumatic or not.

Once his students went back to reading, he grabbed onto his wallet again, looking inside to see a picture of you and him, completing one of your bucket list’s objectives.

Go to an amusement park and get pictures taken in a photo booth.

He chuckled as he remembered that outing, how you had screamed at your first ride on a roller coaster.

He became friends with Steve once again but was still not fond of the rest of the group. The only reason he got close to Steve again was because he was also a teacher in the same college. He was a professor in physical trauma, so, in their breaks, they would smoke together as they walked through campus.

The bell rang and it was time for him to finally head home after a long day of having four classes in the day. He grabbed his suitcase, hoping no student would stop him on his way out and gladly it never happened. His hair is still the same length, but he is always using a ponytail or a bun on his head.

He has heard rumors that people always gossip about him, asking if he was single, or what was his life like outside college. He shrugged the comments away as they weren’t important at all. He just came to work and that’s it.

He got into his car, a black jeep he saved a year for in order to buy it. He missed the van, but he had to upgrade it once and for all. His van was a little old so replacement parts were a bitch to get. He turned on his car and then started his drive back to his home, a two-story house. It wasn’t big or luxurious, but it was his home.

He sighed in relief as he opened the door, throwing his suitcase on the couch after slamming the door closed. He cracked his neck a few times before taking his blazer off and then his tie, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt and opening the cuffs at the end of the sleeves. He groaned with satisfaction as he sniffed the air.

He smiled as he walked towards his kitchen, leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his teeth showing into a massive grin.

“Hi baby.” You smiled widely at him as you took the pan out of the oven, filled with cookies that were freshly baked. He walked towards you, his hand stretching out in order to grab a cookie, only for it to get slapped away by you. “They’re hot!”

“I am strong, I can handle a little bit of burning.” He grinned down at you, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips in greeting. “Were my princesses hungry for cookies?”

“Are you talking to me or…” He chuckled at the pout on your face and he bent down to kiss the big bump on your belly, standing up straight later on, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him.

“Those two are my princesses, you, my love, are my queen.” You rolled your eyes at his antics but you giggled either way. He gave you a smooch on the cheek, making you laugh, trying to push him away. He spotted something on the kitchen counter, pulling away from kissing you and getting the item in his hand.

“Oh! Yeah, Chrissy gifted that! She said–” Eddie laughed as he looked at you and then putting the two pink pacifiers that you can put flavored ice in so they can chew and help with the heat.

“Another gift!? Damn, she really wants to be the godmother of one of our princesses huh.” You pushed onto his shoulder with a pout on your bottom lip.

“Hey, she is going to be the best aunt.” Eddie nodded at that and he really wasn’t angry at Chrissy. You met her after you moved out of your apartment to go to Eddie’s. She was moving in at the same time you were, and you two helped each other in bringing the boxes in.

Yes, your flight took off that day… Without you in it.

You stayed with him, wrapped in his arms as you cried, not being able to stop as your feelings confused you, scared you, your mind a jumbled mess but Eddie held you through it. Eddie wasn’t going to let you go, never, and he promised it, over and over again into your ear, hoping it stuck to your brain.

“Oh no baby, I don’t doubt that.” He smiled at you as you started taking the cookies off the tray, taking care of your hands so that you don’t burn yourself. Eddie just stared at you with adoration in his eyes, as if you held the entire world in your hand, and you did. You are his world. You are everything.

You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow in question, wondering if he was scheming something that you didn’t know about.

“Now, what is going on in that mind of yours Munson?” He found it ironic that you can easily ask that question to him when he wanted to ask that to you many times before. He smiled at you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, his hands resting below your bump, holding onto it as he felt his two daughters moving inside of you.

“I just love you Mrs. Munson…” You turned your head to give him a soft kiss on the cheek, before focusing once again on the cookies.

“And I love you.”

After a moment of silence, he pressed a soft kiss on the side of your neck, surprising you, yet a giggle escaped your throat.

“Thank you.” That confused you, turning your head to look at him and he was already smiling fondly at you.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.”

The end.

a/n: this story explores the idea of death, the idea of being ready to receive it with open arms, with a rational head. But it also explores the fact that things get better if you meet the right people. It might not be now, it might not be tomorrow. It might take years for you to do so, and people in your life will come and go.

But there will always be that one person. And that is all you will ever need.

Taglist of people I mentioned this to: @littlesubbyflower @munson-blurbs @andvys

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katakaluptastrophy · 2 months

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"I’ve already pretty much revealed that Alecto begins with the descent of Christ into Hades." - Tamsyn Muir

That's right...it's time for more Bible study for fans of weird queer necromancers!

It's currently Holy Week, the week where Western liturgical Christians reenact the events of Jesus' death and resurrection in real time. And today, it's Holy Saturday. So Jesus died on the cross on Good Friday. He rises from the dead on Easter Sunday. But what happened in between? His body lay in the tomb...but his spirit was otherwise preoccupied. Because on Holy Saturday, Jesus went to Hell.

But why would Jesus go to Hell? Because the resurrection was not just about saving the people who came after it - it was a bit more...wibbly wobbly, timey wimey.

To be a bit more specific, he didn't visit Hell Hell. The place Jesus visited isn't Hell in the sense of eternal punishment of the damned, but Hades or Sheol or the Underworld or Limbo - a place for those who were mostly good but lived before Jesus' resurrection had made salvation possible. So before his resurrection, Jesus went to make that salvation retroactive. Particularly, according to tradition, to major figures from the Old Testament, including Adam and Eve.

So Nona the Ninth ended with Harrow walking off into the River in search of theological truth. And Alecto the Ninth apparently begins with Harrow in Hell:

Alecto the Ninth, ACT ONE HARROW IN HELL CHAPTER 1 At a point in the slit she was carving through life, Harrowhark Nonagesimus woke to find herself lost in a dark wound. She had been walking when it had all gone black– any path ahead or behind was blotted out; now she was here. - Tamsyn Muir reading at TorCon

This is riffing heavily on the beginning of Dante's Inferno:

"In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost." - Dante Alighieri, Inferno

But lots of people go to Hell. What's so special about Harrow going there? Because the traditional name in English for Jesus' chthonic salvation adventures on Holy Saturday is "the Harrowing of Hell." "Harrow" comes from an Old English word meaning to attack or despoil - a very martial way of expressing the idea of Jesus as the victor over sin and death.

Harrow ended NTN realising that she cannot trust John's account of metaphysics. That she needs to discover the reality for herself. The faith of the Nine Houses and John's own styling as god rests on the foundation of the Resurrection - John is the "ransomer of death, scourge of death, vindicator of death", his power is understood to be absolute: "Let the whole of everywhere entrust themselves to him. Let those across the river pledge beyond the tomb to the adept divine."

And yet even that prayer - "let those across the river..." - introduces doubt. Magnus jumps in to silence Abigail when she expresses her heretical belief in the River beyond, and Harrow herself scoffs that "it has been thousands of years since anybody bothered to believe in the River beyond." Abigail believes that John knows nothing about what exists beyond the River. And what about Hell? In HTN, Ulysses the First is described as "languishing in Hell" after his run-in with a Resurrection Beast. John himself describes the stoma as "the mouth to Hell", "a portal to a place I cannot touch - somewhere I don't fully comprehend, where my power and my authority are utterly meaningless."

In the Book of Revelation - the Bible's account of the end of the world - Jesus holds "the keys of death and Hell". John may have resurrected the dead, but he does not comprehend what is beyond it. Both the destination of the good, the River beyond to which the souls of little Isaac and Jean should have traveled lightly after their short and brutal lives, and the Hell that lies beneath the stoma are outside of his power. He is a few keys short of the full divine bunch. He can manipulate death, but he is not really its master.

And so Harrow walks off into the River to look for something or someone she can call god. Harrow, who shares a name with the defeat of death across time and space. Harrow, who is of the unbroken line of Anastasia. Anastasia was kind to Alecto, who like Eve is the mother of all and like Adam walked on the empty earth with god.

In Orthodox icons, the Harrowing of Hell is depicted with Jesus triumphant, leading Adam and Eve by the hand from their tombs. The traditional term for this image is an anastasis, the Greek term for resurrection. Adam and Eve, whose sin broke the intended shape of reality, are restored to wholeness with god.

How will Harrow answer her questions about god? What really is beyond the stoma and what would it mean to conquer it? What does it look like, metaphysically, to restore the world of The Locked Tomb to wholeness, and what will it cost?

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #harrowhark nonagesimus #john gaius #alecto the first #anastasia the first

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saltpepperbeard · 5 months

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Call It Through as a Crew: Alleviating Some Phone Anxiety

Hello everyone! So as you probably already know, there has been a recent call to make, well, calls! Another member of our crew figured out that the max customer service line (855-442-6629) is a very effective way to get our feedback heard, as the feedback gets transcribed and shared to a multitude of teams.

I already sort of briefly shared my experience on this post, but I wanted to go a bit more in detail to offer some solace for those who are also phone averse, as well as share resources and get the word out even more.

And y'all, when I say I'm phone averse, I mean PHONE AVERSE LMAO; MY FEET WERE SWEATING JSDKLS LIKE I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE. So I totally, TOTALLY get it, and am here to walk you through everything in detail!

So I called that number and was on a brief hold--probably like 5 minutes or so. The customer service representative (Margot my bestie Margot) then picked up, and asked for the email associated with my account as well as my full name.

I was extremely extremely worried and anxious about being bothersome/annoying the person on the other end and just being able to feel it in their tone, so I was shivering and sweating all the while. But then when she asked for my reason for calling, I said, "Oh, it's actually in regard to some feedback," and she went, "Is it for Our Flag Means Death?"

And we both laughed, and I was like, "Haha how did you knooooowww?" And she laughed some more and was like, "Let me tell you, I have never seen anything like this in all my years working here. We are getting so many calls. It's incredible."

And by that point, a large weight was off my chest because she was friendly, I was friendly, EVERYONE WAS FRIENDLY.

I laughed and told her that we were a very passionate and concerned bunch, and she told me that she thought that was so cool and also super important. She then allowed me to tell her my feedback, and she transcribed it as I talked. This was the little script I had prepared in case you'd like to reference it:

I just wanted to call and express my disappointment, dissatisfaction, and concern with the recent cancellation of Our Flag Means Death on Max. As a queer person myself, this show has a tremendous impact on me. And in a climate where so many diverse and LGBT-centric shows have unjust ends, I’d just like to express my wish for reconsideration, and just the hope that…Max will allow LGBT stories like ours to live and flourish. And I’m really worried about there being some kind of…homophobic angle to the cancellation, so it would mean the world to myself and so many others if the decision could be reversed, and we could get our third and final season.

I went a little graver than originally planned, because I saw talks that taking a DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) angle, as well a "hey I'm a queer person and this feels like a decision made for a nefarious purpose" angle, are supposedly more likely to be noted.

Anyway, she allowed me to say my piece and wrote it all down, and then actually stayed with me on the line to chat a bit more. So, the phone call didn't feel rushed or anxious which was SO so huge to me; it felt far more conversational.

She was like, "I don't want to toot our little horn or anything, but Max really takes all this feedback into consideration. It will be passed to the properties team (or something equivalent, I can't remember the EXACT term she used), and they're in charge of what goes on Max and why. So, I really feel like you guys have a fighting chance with these efforts."

And of course I was thanking her profusely for telling me all of this, and for listening; polite menace, that will be my brand!

But man, the coolest part of all? She told me that she was POC, and a queer person herself, and that this was all so cool and so amazing to see. She applauded our efforts, and expressed interested in the show. I laughed and said, "Well uhhhh I might have a BIT of a bias, but I cannot recommend it enough."

And then she proceeded to tell me that it might be even MORE effective to hit from different angles. So, keep calling (they're available 24/7), and also keep utilizing the online feedback form. Basically just keep FLOODING them with how much this means to us and why.

I then expressed a lot of gratitude, we exchanged pleasantries, and there was a brief survey at the end. I don't think the survey is necessary, so you can probably hang up by this point, but I stuck around for a little more horsepower. It tells you to rate the customer service on a scale of 1-5 with 5 being the highest, and you know I gave my bestie a fivvvveee. It also tells you to press 1/2 if your issue was resolved or not. I said HELL TO THE NO, DUDE SJDKLS. And THEN, it asks you to leave a voice message after the tone describing your experience. I said that I was with the customer service representative Margot, and that she was extremely friendly and helpful, but that the issue at hand will not be resolved until Max reserves their decision about the recent cancellation of Our Flag Means Death (I'm also always saying the show title in full as opposed to just the acronym, just for more OOMPH).

...And thennnn I proceed to shake it/shriek it all off LMAO.

Buuuut yeah! Probably took a total of 10 minutes or so. @xoxoemynn also shared with me that she's seen people say that these customer service representatives likely deal with older folks who need help with technology, and are subsequently stunned (and maybe even excited) to talk to younger people who just want to voice concerns instead of chew the poor customer service people out lol! And Margot also mentioned that they were eager to take calls no matter what, so as long as we're all polite and succinct, I don't think we'll have to worry about a very tense and awkward call.

I hope this alleviates some fear a bit! We got this, crew. We're doing so, so much. And it seems like it's being heard all over the place; it also seems like we've got so many people on our side, too. Big big hugs, and I'll share the necessary resources once more-

Customer Service Number: (855) 442-6629

The Online Feedback Form:

The original tumblr post with all the information:

The tumblr post where Fox and others were sharing even more information:

#OFMD #Our Flag Means Death #OFMD Season 3 #Renew as a crew #SaveOFMD #RenewOFMD #Be a lighthouse #WHEW LMAO #WE'RE TRYING #i told em this but you KNOW it's dire when all the anxious/nd individuals are cALLING PEOPLE SJDSHDLKS #WE SIMPLY: DO NOT DO THAT EVER <3 SKDJLSDS #IF WE CAN HELP IT #SO IT'S REALLY SAYING SOMETHING #And also again-- just want to reiterate that this is great practice for calling local representatives and politicians too!#ESPECIALLY if you're phone averse #It just gets you used to the whole process in a BIT of a less formal scenario

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fanfictionalraven · 2 months

Text

Dream Warriors Chapter 1

Title: Dream Warriors Chapter 1

Summary: The reader wakes up from a strange dream in bed with her husband. Shaking off the dream, she goes about her day, enjoying lunch with her best friend; however, things may not be as they appear.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, other original characters

Word Count: 4,124

Warnings: A bit of angst, mentions of infidelity

Author's Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2018. Only 7 of the 10 chapters were ever posted. They are all written and will be published.

“Dean,” you mumble, slowly drawing from a dream. You slide your hand across the mattress slowly, eyes still closed, and smile when you reach the body next to you. It shifts, turning towards you, and you open your eyes. The deep brown eyes of your husband’s meet yours and you blink, forcing the remnants of the strange dream away quickly.

“You say something?” He asks, voice still thick with sleep. You force a smile and shake your head.

“Must have been mumbling in my sleep,” you tell him. He nods and rolls onto his back, closing his eyes again. You bite your lip, pushing yourself up to rest on your elbow, and look down at him. “Ya know…we’ve got about half an hour before we have to be up.” He nods, eyes still closed.

“I know. Why do you think I’m trying to go back to sleep?” He asks. You frown, dejected, and throw the covers off of yourself as you roll out of the bed. “Where are you going?” He asks with a sigh.

“I’m taking my shower,” you tell him, making your way across the master bedroom to the bathroom. You close and lock the door behind you before starting to undress.

When you’d married Jackson Rawlings about two years ago, you hadn’t expected the honeymoon phase of your marriage to be over so quickly. But when you’d told him you were pregnant the day after the wedding, it practically ended then and there. However, if little Ella was the only good thing to come from this marriage, it would have been worth it. She’d recently turned one and from the first moment you’d held her in your arms, she’d been then apple of your eye.

A knock on the bathroom door pulls you away from your thoughts as you work the conditioner into your hair.

“Y/N, Ella’s up,” Jackson calls through the door. You frown and slide the shower door open.

“Can you get her?” You call back to your husband.

“Can’t. Gotta go in early,” he says. You sigh and move back under the water, rinsing your hair out quickly. “And I’ll probably be late. Got another staff meeting.”

“Again?” You ask, shutting the water off. “That’s the third one this week.”

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? We’re redoing the curriculum for the entire English department. I have to be there,” he says from the other side of the door. You can hear Ella’s cries coming from the baby monitor near your bed so you wrap a towel around yourself quickly and step into the bedroom.

“I know. It’s just -,” Jackson cuts you off with a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Bye,” he says before rushing from the room. You frown as you stare after him.

“Bye,” you mumble, shaking your head slightly. You make your way across the hall to the nursery and click the light on. “There’s Mommy’s pretty girl,” you coo as you cross the room. She’s standing in the crib, holding on to the railing as she cries. You tuck the edge of your towel in carefully to keep it tightly around you before pulling her from the crib.

“Mama,” she whimpers, laying her head on your damp shoulder. You smile and press a kiss to her thin tuft of hair.

“Can Mama get dressed before breakfast?” You ask. She lets out a whine and you sigh, nodding. “Breakfast it is.” You carry her down the stairs and into the kitchen, depositing the infant into her high chair. You’re just about to start making her infant oatmeal when there’s a knock at the front door. You groan as you look down at yourself, still wrapped in the towel. “Coming,” you call, trying to pull the towel around you a little tighter. Ella starts to cry from her high chair as you rush from the kitchen to the front door. You pull the door open and can’t help the wide smile that spreads across your face.

“Mornin’ Gorgeous,” Dean Winchester, your childhood best friend, greets you. His eyes roam down your towel-clad body then back up to your face slowly. “Ya know, I generally have a rule against married women but…” You roll your eyes, but smile despite yourself, as you turn back into the house. Dean steps inside, closing the door behind himself.

“What are you doing here so early?” You ask as you make your way back into the kitchen. Ella continues to cry until Dean steps into the kitchen.

“You forgot?” He asks, glancing over at you. You stop and look back at him, blankly. “We were gonna do breakfast before I took you down to the shop to pick your car up.”

“Oh my god!” You gasp. He laughs lightly as he walks over to Ella.

“Hey, El,” he says, dropping a kiss on top of her head. She giggles and reaches for him, tears suddenly gone.

“Bean!!” She calls out. He smiles as he pulls her from the high chair carefully.

“Where’s the professor?” Dean asks, looking back at you. You shoot a glare over your shoulder at him as he walks over. His words seemed harmless enough but he never called your husband “the professor” out of respect.

“He had to get to the university early,” you inform him. Dean nods then reaches over, stopping you from mixing the oatmeal.

“How about you go finish getting ready and I’ll take care of my god-daughter?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. You look up at him and bite your lip.

“Are you sure?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Dean looks you over again and smirks.

“I mean, I’m all for you staying in the towel but she’s going back to bed and you’re telling your dad why I’m late for work,” he says. You roll your eyes and swat at his shoulder.

“What I’m gonna do is call your mother and tell her you won’t stop flirting with a married woman,” you tell him, eyes narrowing. He watches you closely, his smile slipping.

“You okay? You usually dish it right back out,” he says. You let out a laugh and shake your head slightly.

“I’m fine. Just had a weird dream last night,” you confess, a blush creeping into your cheeks. Dean’s eyebrows raise in question.

“Tell me about it over breakfast?” He asks. You hesitate for a moment before nodding. You could at least tell him about most of it. He plants a kiss on your forehead. “Good. Now go get dressed.” You smile then rush up the stairs, leaving your best friend to take care of your daughter.

You and Dean had grown up together, your parents and his were old friends. The flirty banter had been your normal form of communication since you were teens but you’d only ever crossed that line between friends and something more once in your entire relationship. You had both been pretty drunk that night and agreed it was a mistake, not wanting to hurt your friendship.

The two of you had worked together at your father’s auto mechanic shop for a few years after graduating college. Dean eventually worked his way up to become a partial owner with your father. You had worked in the office, keeping all the accounts and money organized for them. Once you’d married Jackson, he’d convinced you to quit. He said that he was making enough money to support you both, which was true. Dean always said it was because he didn’t want the two of you together all the time, which you happened to know was also true.

You dress comfortably for the day, jeans and an old t-shirt you can’t remember buying. Keeping things simple, you fix your hair and brush on some mascara before going back down to the kitchen. Dean’s sitting at the table with Ella in his lap. She’s dressed in a dress you know Dean had bought her not long ago with a matching bow in her thin tuft of hair and her diaper bag is packed up, resting on the table.

“You didn’t have to do all of that,” you tell him, walking over and picking up the bag. He smiles as he stands, resting Ella on his hip.

“But I’m so good at it,” he says, smirking down at you. You roll your eyes at him, trying not to smile.

“God, you’re so full of yourself,” you say. His smirk only manages to grow bigger as you turn for the front hall together.

“Yea, well, seeing a gorgeous women come into the room wearing your clothes will do that to a man,” he says. You stop and look up at him before looking down at the shirt you’d put on. Of course, it was his. It was bigger and comfortable and familiar. You’d stolen it ages ago, back in high school if you remembered correctly, and never given it back.

“To be fair, I’ve had this long enough it shouldn’t even count as yours anymore,” you tell him. He laughs and shakes his head as he pulls the front door open, allowing you to step through first.

The three of you load into Dean’s old Impala, Ella’s car seat from your car expertly strapped into his backseat. He drives down to your favorite breakfast place and you’re seated at the same table in the corner you and Dean always sit at. Dean slips Ella into the high chair they bring over and you hand her a toy to play with as Dean orders your regular meal and drink. You smile as she slaps the plastic toy against the tray of the high chair then look across the table at your best friend.

“You talked to Lisa?” You ask. He frowns and shakes his head.

“No. I – I’m pretty sure it’s really over this time,” he says. The waitress brings over two steaming mugs of coffee and sets them in front of you two. You smile as you pick yours up.

“You said that last time. And the time before that,” you tell him. He rolls his eyes, picking up his own mug.

“Yea, well, last time she didn’t go out with someone else two days after we broke up,” he says. Your eyes widen as you stare at him.

“Are you serious?” You ask. He sighs and nods, looking over at Ella.

“Bean!!” She giggles, showing him her toy. He smiles at her then looks back at you. You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours.

“I’m sorry. I know how much she meant to you,” you tell him. He shrugs, squeezing your hand.

“We tried, ya know? And lately things just haven’t been the same,” he says. You nod, watching him with concern. He smiles. “So, you gonna tell me about this dream?” You make a face, pulling your hand away from his.

“It was just…weird,” you say. He nods slightly. You sigh, knowing he isn’t going to drop the subject any time soon, and look into your coffee cup. “We were these – monster hunters?” You glance up at him and he raises an eyebrow. “Like…ghosts and demons and vampires…monsters.”

“We?” He asks. You nod, running a finger around the rim of your mug.

“Me, you, and Sam. Our parents were all dead, killed by different monsters, so it was just the three of us. We lived in this old bunker or something. And we –,” you stop and bite your lip.

“What?” He asks. You sigh and run a hand across your forehead.

“We were…together,” you tell him. You expect any number of comments but nothing comes. You look up at him and you’re met with the biggest, goofiest grin.

“Did we…you know?” He asks, wigging his eyebrows. You roll your eyes.

“No. We didn’t. Something was – was off,” you tell him, trying to remember. You blink and look back at Dean to find he’s frowning. “What?”

“You’re telling me that we were together in this dream and we didn’t have sex?” He asks. Your eyes widen as you look around quickly.

“Will you shut up??” You ask, dropping your voice low. His smile returns slowly as he watches the blush creep into your cheeks.

“Awww, come on, Y/N. Not like it would be the first time we did,” he says. You’re certain your eyes are about to pop out of your head as Dean begins to laugh, throwing his head back.

“Shut up!!” You say. The two of you were the only people who knew about your little one-night stand in the past and you’d planned on keeping it that way.

“Hey, I’m just kidding, Sweetheart. That what’s got you so shaken? That we were together and something was wrong?” He asks. You shrug, looking over at Ella as she reaches for your mug. You pull her sippy cup from her bag and set it on the tray in front of her. Dean goes to say something but the sound of your phone ringing cuts him off. Jackson’s Office the screen reads as you quickly hit the answer button.

“Hello?” You ask, putting the phone to your ear.

“Hey, Y/N. Pretty sure I left my cell at the house today. If you happen to see it, just leave it. Don’t worry about bringing it or anything. Just leave it alone. Okay?” He says in a rush. You frown and nod slightly.

“Sure,” you tell him. The line clicks dead and you bite your lip, looking at the phone in your hands.

“Everything okay?” Dean asks, watching you closely. You glance at him and smile your best, nodding, as you put your cell away again. The waitress brings over your food and sets a plate in front of both of you. Dean scrapes a small serving of his scrambled eggs onto a smaller plate and sets it on the tray of Ella’s highchair. You shake your head slightly.

“No wonder people think you’re her father when we’re out somewhere,” you say, picking up your fork. Dean shrugs.

“Someone’s gotta act like it,” he says. Your hand freezes midway through cutting into one of the pancakes on your plate. Dean sighs and hangs his head. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.” You bite your lip, fighting back angry tears. You weren’t mad at Dean. You couldn’t be. You were mad at Jackson because you knew Dean was right. He’d always acted more like her father than your husband ever did. “Y/N,” Dean says, reaching across the table for your hand. You look at him and shake your head quickly.

“It’s fine, Dean,” you tell him. He watches you for a moment before looking back at Ella. She grins at him as she sticks a handful of eggs into her mouth.

“I mean, it could just be the fact that she has my eyes,” he teases, smiling over at you again. You let out a laugh and roll your eyes.

“For the last time, she doesn’t have your eyes. She just happens to have green eyes,” you say, sticking a piece of pancake with your fork. Dean laughs before continuing to eat his breakfast as well.

After you’ve finished and had your typical fight with Dean over who was paying for the meal, a fight you always seem to lose, the three of you head across town to the old shop. Your father is just unlocking the door as Dean pulls the Impala into his usual parking spot. Ella lets out a squeal and begins to kick her feet.

“Papa!! Papa!! Papa!!” She jabbers, having caught sight of your father. You laugh as you climb from the car. Dean gets Ella from her seat before handing her over to the waiting arms of her Papa. She lays her head on his shoulder and he kisses her forehead.

“How’s my favorite granddaughter this morning?” He asks, running a hand over her back soothingly. You smile as you walk over to him.

“She’s your only granddaughter, Dad,” you tell him before kissing his cheek. He winks at you.

“And Travis is my favorite grandson,” he says, referring to your older brother’s only child. You roll your eyes then reach to help Dean with the car seat.

“I’ve got it,” he says, pulling it from the back seat. He holds it up and smiles proudly. “See? I told you I’d get the hang of this thing.”

“He practiced putting it in and getting it out for an hour yesterday,” your father informs you, trying to not laugh. Dean glares over at him.

“Thanks, Joe,” he says. You laugh then stand on your toes and kiss Dean’s cheek quickly.

“That’s sweet,” you tell him. Dean smiles proudly and looks at your father, raising his eyebrows mockingly.

“He’s still just trying to win your affection,” your father says. Dean scoffs and closes the door to the Impala.

“Please. We all know she agreed to marry me first then took it back,” he says, starting towards the building. You roll your eyes as you follow, your father right behind you with Ella.

“You were 9. I was 7. And you proposed with a ring pop. You practically bribed me with candy,” you say. He holds the front door open for you and smirks.

“You still said yes. Then went and married Jackass,” he says. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Jackson,” you correct. He nods slightly.

“That’s what I said.” He winks at you and for a split second you consider slapping him. However, you don’t. You merely roll your eyes again and walk into the old building. Your father takes Ella back to his office, probably to sneak some candy to her, and Dean pulls the door closed. He sets the car seat down in one of the chairs in the corner. As he makes his way towards the counter, he stops and kisses your cheek quickly. “You know you love me.”

“Mmhmmm,” you hum in response, crossing your arms. He laughs and dashes around the counter, turning the computer on. He picks your keys up and tosses them across the room to you. You catch them with one hand, easily. “How much?” Dean rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask me that,” he says, looking through a stack of papers. Your father comes back from the office with Ella, chocolate all over her face now.

“She found it completely on her own,” he says, handing her back to you. You laugh and shake your head.

“Because you’ve shown her exactly where it is so many times now,” you tell him. He smiles innocently and shrugs. “How much do I owe you?” Your father looks up at Dean who merely shrugs his shoulders and gestures towards you in a way that can only mean to say, “She’s your daughter.”

“I’m not making my own daughter pay,” he says. You narrow your eyes at the two of them.

“You’re lucky I love you both. I could have done it myself, I just don’t have time,” you mutter before kissing you father’s cheek. “Tell Papa bye,” you say to Ella. She giggles and waves a hand at him.

“Bye Papa!!” She says. He smiles widely and kisses her hair before planting a kiss on your own head.

“Love you, girls,” he says. You smile at him then turn to pick up the car seat but Dean’s beat you to it. The two of you go out to your waiting car where Dean easily gets the seat strapped into the backseat. He takes Ella from you and kisses her cheek before buckling her in the way you’d shown him. She pouts up at him when he does.

“No, Bean,” she whines, reaching out for him. He groans and shakes his head.

“No. Not the pout. Y/N, she’s pouting,” he says, looking over at you. You laugh and shake your head.

“She’ll get over it,” you tell him. He sighs dramatically and closes the door before turning to you fully. Wrapping you up in a tight hug, he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Love you, Sweetheart,” he says, his voice soft. You smile and look up at him.

“Love you too, Dean,” you say. He smiles softer and kisses your forehead.

“Call me if you need anything,” he says, letting you go finally. You nod and he reaches over, pulling the front door open for you. You laugh lightly as you get in.

“Such a gentleman. Lisa doesn’t realize what she’s thrown away,” you tell him. He laughs and shakes his head, closing the door.

You glance back in the rear view mirror to find Dean watching you as you drive away from the shop. As you make your way back to the house, your sister-in-law Kristen calls, asking if you and Ella want to have a girls’ day out with herself and your mother. You agree and meet them both at your parents’ house. The four of you spend the day out, shopping and having a good time.

Since Jackson was going to be late getting in, you stay at your parents’ house for the evening and have dinner with them. Your father invites Dean to stay as well. You know deep down that your mother and father both wished you’d ended up with him instead of Jackson. Ella falls asleep midway through dinner, exhausted from the day out. You get her back home and tucked into bed before going into your own room. And there it is, sitting on the bedside table. Jackson’s phone.

You’d honestly forgotten about the odd conversation you’d had with him earlier that morning. He’d practically demanded that you leave it alone and just ignore it. Of course, that only peeked your curiosity. You’d spent the last several weeks convincing yourself that your worst fears weren’t true. He was actually going in early and staying late to work and nothing else. But still…

You pick the phone up quickly and press the home button. The number display comes up and you bite your lip. He’d never shared his pass code with you. You start to put in your anniversary but roll your eyes, quickly deleting the entry. That wasn’t going to be it. You try Ella’s birthday and even her name to no avail. You stare at the numbers before putting in his birth year. The phone unlocks.

You hesitate for a moment, almost feeling a little guilty for not trusting your husband. But then again, if he had nothing to hide, why be so secretive? You take a deep breath and hit the messages icon on the bottom portion of the screen. The top conversation catches your eye instantly.

Chrissy

Can’t wait 😘

Your heart sinks as you sit on the edge of the bed and tap the conversation. A sob erupts from your chest as you begin to scroll through the messages. They were flirty and dirty. There was no way he could deny any of this, no way anything could be misconstrued.

You quickly gathered that Chrissy was one of his students from some messages about her being a “bad girl” in class wearing nothing under her skirt for him. It isn’t long before you scroll past a picture. A gorgeous, busty 20-something blonde in some skimpy red lingerie. You quickly turn the phone off and set it back on the table as your sobs overwhelm you.

Laying on your side, you curl into yourself. The questions begin to plague your mind, one after the other. Why weren’t you enough for him? Had he ever really loved you? Could you win back his love at this point? You could change. You could hit the gym and get in better shape for him. You could get implants and be more appealing.

As you slowly drift into the comfort of sleep, you can just hear someone calling your name in the distance. Jackson, finally home you assume. But as the voice gets nearer and more distinct, you realize it isn’t Jackson at all. It’s Dean.

“Y/N,” he calls. “Y/N, Sweetheart, wake up.” You jolt awake and sit up right in the bed. A different bed. You look around at the room and you know it well. The gun collection on the wall and pictures of you and your boyfriend on the desk are a welcome site. “Y/N?” Dean says, his voice laced with concern. It isn’t until now you realize you’re sobbing. You look at Dean sitting beside you, worry etched across his face. He’s gently rubbing your back, trying to soothe you. “What’s wrong?” You put a hand over your mouth and shake your head slightly.

“I – I had the strangest dream,” you tell him.

Read Chapter 2 here.

A/N: Here we go!! First chapter of a brand new story. Tags are open if anyone wants to be tagged for updates.

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Dream Warriors: @aylacavebear @winharry @djs8891 @suckitands33 @deans-spinster-witch

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #reader #dream warriors #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic

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pathetic-sapphic · 9 months

Note

Thank you for doing my request! Your write wonderfully. And of course it’s ok that you do it for the male characters! U don’t need permission from me this is your account and your writing, you do what you want :) and also if you’re gonna do it can you add Grayson to the list? Tysmm 🤍

Arcane men with a S/O who has anxiety

VIKTOR likes to use the slow and gentle approach when helping you during harder times. He understands what it's like to have doubts and feel as if all eyes are on you, just waiting for you to make the wrong move or fail. He will ground you by gently taking hold of your hand and kissing the back of it, whispering how everything is going to be alright and that he is right next to you. If he sees you panicking and your breathing getting heavier, he will lead you outside to get some fresh air. Viktor will sit next to you on a bench, winding his arm around you and drawing soft circles along the length of your spine until you've calmed down. Overall, he is a very gentle and patient lover who will be there for you no matter what, always reassuring you and helping you regain your peace. Viktor is forever your safe space.

''There we go, darling. It's okay, just breathe. No no, do not apologize, there is no place I'd rather be than right here next to you. Trust me. You know I'd never lie to you. Remember how many times have you stood by my side whenever I felt panicked or lacked faith in myself? Exactly, so now I'm going to do the same thing for you. I love you and I want to help you, I want to be your safe space. Now, just take my hand and tell me what's bothering you. I'll always be here to listen, sweetheart.''

Let's be honest for a bit, JAYCE is a himbo through and through, meaning that it might take a while for him to pick up on your anxious tendencies. He might even mistake your nervous fidgeting for excitement which definitely doesn't help your situation. You're going to have to tell him outright what you're struggling with, but once you do, he is your biggest supporter. Jayce is good with words and he is hopelessly in love with you so he is quick to beat down any feeling of self-doubt you might feel. He is basically your rock, always standing by your side and letting you lean on him whenever you need it. Jayce is like a loyal puppy, always following you and making sure you have whatever your heart might wish, he basically treats you like royalty. He is at your beck and call, ready to help you out or just hold you whenever you feel bad or your anxiety gets the best of you.

''What's wrong, babe? Come here, sit on my lap, and tell me what happened. Oh, baby, I wish you told me earlier you struggled with all this, I would have been able to help you sooner then. Tell you what, whenever you feel like that again, feel free to seek me out and I'll help you feel better in no time! Don't be ridiculous, you're much more important than my job, I wouldn't be where I am if it wasn't for all of your support during all these years. Now, let me do the same for you and be your support, alright? Good, I love you so much, babe.''

By being a leader at such a young age and carrying such a heavy burden, EKKO is well aware of how hard it can be to try and mask any doubts or insecurities you may have. He could always rely on you whenever things got too hard and now he wants to be there for you too. Once you reveal all the things that have been plaguing you for a while, he pulls you into a long, tight hug. His heart hurts just by thinking about all the things you had to go through on your own. How many nights have you spent crying yourself to sleep while he unknowingly slumbered away next to you? He decided that it ultimately doesn't matter because it'll never happen again. He knows you'd feel bad or as if you're bothering him by confiding in him about your worries but he reassures you that you could never be a burden to him. What would truly bother him is his beloved suffering in silence while he is unaware of all the hardships they're going through.

''Oh, firefly, why didn't you tell me you've been struggling so much? I could have been there for you and helped you! It doesn't matter, it's not your fault, just don't do it anymore, okay? You are never a burden to me, don't you dare think that. You deal with just as much trouble as I do and even if you didn't, that still doesn't mean you can't rely on me when you need it. I'm here for you, babe, and I want you to look for me and tell me whenever you're not feeling well. I'll always make time for you.''

VANDER is often very busy so you might think you can hide your troubles from him since most of the time he is either off running the Last Drop or taking care of his kids. However, he is a very observant and intelligent man, not to mention a very caring one so he quickly picks up on your sour mood. He will invite you to a storage room behind the bar, asking Benzo to take over for a bit. Vander will sit next to you on a squeaky old couch and take your hands into his, laying them upon his lap. Carefully, he will ask you what's got you so upset lately and once the floodgates open, he wastes no time in pulling you into his embrace. He will kiss the top of your head and rub his big hands along your back, cursing himself for letting it get this bad. Vander calms you down and comforts you, making you promise him that you'll make sure to communicate your feelings to him in the future. He hates seeing you cry and is ready to do whatever it takes to make a smile reappear on your pretty face.

''Come here, darlin'. It's okay, I've got you now, you can cry as much as you like. I'm sorry I didn't notice how bad you've been feeling sooner. It must've been so hard for you, my love. Shh, don't apologize, it's not your fault that you're feeling this way. We all feel like that sometimes and I'll always be here for you whenever it happens, alright? I love you so much, my darlin', now let me see that beautiful smile. There it is, it's like the sun is shinning right at me. You are my sunshine and I won't let anyone dim your light or take away your warmth, got that?''

SILCO can be surprisingly kind behind closed doors. It's no secret that he has a soft spot for you and will treat you as a priority, along with his daughter of course. He quickly picks up on your fidgety and nervous form but trusts you to confide in him when you're ready. When that doesn't happen and he notices your state getting worse with the days passing by, he invites you to his office. He will make you sit in his lap and explain your troubles to him while he tentatively listens and clings to your every word. Once you're finished, Silco will gently cup your face and lift it so your eyes meet his. He will tell you how proud he is of you and how grateful he is for your trust. Next, he will reassure you that your troubles are never an issue to him and that you always have a safe space in his office. Whatever you may need, whatever your heart may wish, he is ready to grant it as long as it means it will return that beautiful smile to your lovely face. He dedicates the rest of the evening to making sure you're feeling relaxed and well-rested, banishing any negative thoughts out of your pretty little head. He may be a criminal mastermind, but to you, he is your kind and gentle boyfriend, always ready to serve you and dedicate his time and effort towards assuring your comfort and happiness.

''Come here, darling. Yes, sit right here and look at me. Please? There you are. Now, are you ready to tell me what has been bothering you so much lately? Lying is futile, my dear, do you think I haven't noticed how fidgety and distant you've been for the past few days? I just thought I'd give you time to approach me and confide in me. Seeing as that hasn't happened yet, I am now giving you an opportunity to explain what has been going on inside that pretty little head. I see, I wished you'd told me all that sooner, it would have saved you the trouble and suffering, beloved. No matter, I'm here now and I am aware of your situation, thank you for trusting me with this, I know it can be hard to talk about such things. Now, how about we take a bath and have dinner together, hm? It'll help you relax and take your mind to a hopefully more pleasant place. Perfect, wait for me in the bathroom, I'll be with you in a minute, my dear.''

a/n: i will add grayson in a separate post for arcane milfs :)

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane headcanons #requests are open #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #arcane jayce #jayce talis x reader #arcane ekko #ekko x reader #arcane vander #vander x reader #arcane silco #silco x reader

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unofficial-underfell · 3 months

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Hey guys, I've been thinking about making this post for a long time and I think its finally time I do so. After realizing that some of my last work was done over a year ago, I don't think I can really ignore it anymore. While I haven't quite thrown in the towel on this quite yet, it's pretty evident to me and I'm sure to everyone who still follows this blog that my fervor for the project has drastically decreased. And has been kind of dead for a while. The comic has not been a priority to me, or posting online much at all actually. I did some soul searching and found that I'd started relying on outside approval for my art instead of doing art for the sake of wanting to tell a story and express myself throughout my work. I have limited energy and depression and sometimes it feels like i get such little progress done even though it takes all of my energy. While I'm trying to go to the gym more and build better habits my energy levels and mood still have a lot to be desired, and I'd rather use the limited energy I have to work on something I'm more passionate about.

I've been trying to grow my skills and absorb more stories and I've moved around a lot and started to listen to what I really felt, and I found that a lot of the art I want to focus on deals with heavier and more mature topics. I do love this story, and all of the characters and I feel like I could make a really clever subversion of what is expected from an Underfell comic. But I feel like in these uncertain times with the world and with all of the stuff going on right now, I'd like to use my energy to work on stories that hit closer to the things that I feel are important. So that's why I've not been posting much.

I'm working on a book, and I've actually got quite a lot of progress done on it, but because of all the horror stories online about people stealing author's original works, I'm kind of holding off on publishing any chapters before I can copyright the first draft of the novel. So my online activity will still be pretty scarce for a bit, though I'll still post occasionally on my @cosmicpixel01 account. I'll try better to not be so radio silent though lol. Even if that means I'll post something boring about my dog or books I'm reading just so everyone knows I'm still alive.

I don't want to call it quits on the story. But I also feel like you guys have been kept waiting to see what happens for a really long time, and that makes me feel so guilty. I will try to finish up the pages I have in the works, and I'm probably going to switch to a different format that is some drawings, some writing to finish the story. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to finish it the way I intended for you guys, even with all of the support and kind words and even the fanart that I've kept in a folder on my desktop. I am letting a lot of you down, but I feel like the radio silence is probably more irresponsible than just going out and saying something. And I'm sorry I've kept you all waiting for a not-so-happy update on the blog.

I hope that some of you will continue to follow me for some of my other exploits and see whatever other things I have going on, but I understand that you all followed me for Undertale so I don't want you to feel any sort of guilt if you decide not to. I'm just happy you all supported me for so long.

I'll try to work on this blog again soon, and if anyone has any questions, my asks are open, though I'll probably keep the asks private. Until then I hope everyone stays safe out there. And from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

-Avery

#not pages #unofficial-underfell #this was so hard to write i dont want to be a quitter but I'm tired #avery speaks

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yourpenpaldee · 9 days

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·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION.

I don't usually put myself out there as it makes me nervous. But I've been a lurker for way too long, and it's about time I step out of my comfort zone. So, hello! I'm Dee (she/her), twenty-two, and have found my voice with storytelling.

Writing has always been a passion of mine, and continues to be the tool I turn to when I need an outlet to freely express myself. I have, unfortunately, hit a rough patch with consistency, and I'm here to bring all of that motivation and inspiration back. Especially since there are one too many WIPs sitting on the backburner, and they're all calling my name.

As someone who loves to dip their toes into every genre of fiction, I will read anything that peaks my interest. However, when it comes to creating, my works usually fall under romance and mystery. With practice, I intend on branching out into other genres I don't write often. There's a lot to explore in the world of writing, and I don't want to limit myself to only two categories.

Creating this blog provides me the space I need to accomplish the many goals I often dream of achieving. I acknowledge that it all starts with the ability to hold myself accountable. To show up for myself. To become comfortable with the uncomfortable. Putting myself and my projects out into the world is only the first of many steps, and it feels quite liberating.

I aim to use the voice I've found to not only contribute to the progression of POC representation, but to touch on several topics that remain heavily stigmatized in today's media. There’s a joy that runs through my veins every time I see someone like me on my screen or in a book. I feel seen, heard, and proud. I feel important. But as a creator, there’s that itch that can only be scratched when I create. When I make something that lets the next person know that they’re not invisible. That they're valued, loved, and appreciated. That's what I hope for when someone reads a project of mine. For them to feel the same rush of joy flowing through them as it does me.

Wow, I’m a yapper. I'd like to close this intro off with some fun facts, so here are some of my top five favorites with sidenotes because I still want to yap a bit more about the things I adore.

SOLO ARTISTS:

ARI LENNOX ✧ ˚ · . CHOCOLATE POMEGRANATE — GET CLOSE — GOAT — POF — UP LATE

HALSEY ✧ ˚ · . 100 LETTERS — I HATE EVERYBODY — NIGHTMARE — ROMAN HOLIDAY — THE LIGHTHOUSE

HOPE TALA ✧ ˚ · . CHERRIES — EDEN — I CAN'T EVEN CRY — LEAVE IT ON THE DANCEFLOOR — SUNBURN

MELANIE MARTINEZ ✧ ˚ · . ALPHABET BOY — DEAD TO ME — EVIL — NOTEBOOK — STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE

HALIMA ✧ ˚ · . DOWNTOWN — FORD CARDINAL — IF LOVE WAS GREEN — SAMANTHA — TALK

BANDS:

5 SECONDS OF SUMMER ✧ ˚ · . AIRPLANES — BETTER MAN — KILL MY TIME — LONG WAY HOME — TEARS!

FALL OUT BOY ✧ ˚ · . BANG THE DOLDRUMS — CHICAGO IS SO TWO YEARS AGO — HEADFIRST SLIDE INTO COOPERSTOWN ON A BAD BET — NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER — WHERE DID THE PARTY GO

FLO ✧ ˚ · . CARDBOARD BOX — FLY GIRL — IMMATURE — SUITE LIFE (FAMILIAR) — WALK LIKE THIS

PARAMORE ✧ ˚ · . BIG MAN, LITTLE DIGNITY — CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE — FRANKLIN — MISGUIDED GHOST — PART II

THE INTERNET ✧ ˚ · . DONTCHA — HOLD ON — LOOK WHAT U STARTED — SOMTHING'S MISSING — SPECIAL AFFAIR

GAMES:

CORAL ISLAND ✧ ˚ · . IF I START LISTING NAMES, I'M GOING TO MENTION EVERYONE. BUT I'M A LOYAL MARK GIRL. AND NOAH... AND MILLIE, EVA, BEN, Y—

DISNEY DREAMLIGHT VALLEY ✧ ˚ · . THIS IS SUCH A COMFORT GAME THAT SOOTHES MY INNER CHILD.

DON'T STARVE [TOGETHER] ✧ ˚ · . I MAY OR MAY NOT STILL SUCK AT THIS GAME AFTER A SOLID THREE YEARS, BUT I'M A WIGFRID MAIN.

STARDEW VALLEY ✧ ˚ · . I LOVE SEBASTIAN AND LEAH, AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL IF I HAVE TO.

THE SIMS 4 ✧ ˚ · . WHERE I SPEND A LOT MORE TIME IN CREATE-A-SIM AND BUILD MODE COMPARED TO PLAYING THE ACTUAL GAME.

TROPES:

FAKE RELATIONSHIP ✧ ˚ · . MHM... JUST SAY YOU LIKE EACH OTHER ALREADY.

FATED MATE ✧ ˚ · . I'M A BIT PICKY ABOUT THIS TROPE THOUGH. THINGS TEND TO MOVE VERY QUICKLY BUT I ENJOY IT NONETHELESS.

FRIENDS TO LOVERS ✧ ˚ · . A CLASSIC THAT DOESN'T NEED AN EXPLANATION.

REUNION ✧ ˚ · . ESPECIALLY IF THEY WERE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AND THEY REMINISCE OLD MEMORIES, OH MY GOODNESS. I EAT THIS TROPE UP EVERY TIME.

SLOWBURN ✧ ˚ · . NO DOUBT THIS IS MY MOST FAVORITE TROPE. THE BUILDUP TO EVEN THE TINIEST PIVOTAL MOMENT ALWAYS MAKES MY HEART THUMP.

TV SHOWS:

CRIMINAL MINDS ✧ ˚ · . YES, I’LL WATCH ALL 16 SEASONS FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME AND FALL IN LOVE WITH PRENTISS EACH TIME. WE WERE ALSO ROBBED OF BEARDED HOTCH CONTENT.

BRIDGERTON ✧ ˚ · . DO I CRY EVERY TIME I WATCH GEORGE AND CHARLOTTE'S STORY? YES. WILL I CONTINUE TO REWATCH IT AND RECITE THE LINES EVERY TIME SOMETHING REMINDS ME OF IT? ASOLUTELY.

THE BEAR ✧ ˚ · . I WISH I KNEW OF AYO EDEBIRI BEFORE THIS SHOW BECAUSE THAT WOMAN IS AMAZING??? LIKE, HELLO???

THE EQUALIZER ✧ ˚ · . *mini spoiler* STILL CAN'T STOP THINKING OF DANTE'S GRIN WHEN HE GOT TO SEE MEL, ROB, AND HARRY'S LITTLE WORK SPOT FOUR SEASONS LATER.

SWEET MAGNOLIAS ✧ ˚ · . HELEN, MADDIE, AND DANA SUE IS HOW I PICTURE MY FRIENDS AND I IN THE FUTURE. MARGARITA NIGHTS, BEING AUNTIES TO EACH OTHER'S CHILDREN, UGH. I LOVE THEM WHOLEHEARTEDLY.

And that concludes this introduction on me and this blog. I would love to connect and befriend other authors, so please don't hesitate to reach out as my DMs will always be open! I'd love to support and read your works, so don't be hesitant to share them with me if you'd like.

I hope you all will enjoy reading my works as much as I enjoy the process of bringing my ideas to life.

divider creds to strangergraphics ♡

#writeblr #blog intro #writeblr intro #writeblr community #writing community #writing on tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing #authors #writers #i did not expect for this to get as long as it did my oh my

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peterhollandkait · 1 year

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Try to Love Me, Honey Please

A/N: hello!! This is the first time I’m posting any fics on this account, so I’m pretty nervy 😵‍💫 but!!! I wrote this for the dear @tightjeansjavi and I decided I wanted to share it with the world. Likes and comments are appreciated 🥹🥹

Summary: Joel opens up to you about his pain after you’re injured.

Warnings: mentions of blood, sad!joel, mentions of death, angst, soft!joel

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The only sound heard was the crackle of the fire as Joel rewrapped the cut on your arm where you’d run into a glass door earlier in the day.

You hadn’t even realized you were bleeding until you reached for Ellie and found your hand covered in red. Joel had freaked, immediately rolling your soaked sleeve to reveal the moderately deep cut in your forearm. He sat you down and wrapped your arm as best as he could under the circumstances before the three of you continued forward to find shelter for the night.

Now, you sat beside the fire, watching joel as he cared for you. He hadn’t spoken a word since Ellie crawled into her sleeping bag and said goodnight, but you knew his mind was turning.

“Joel,” you started carefully.

He shook his head slightly. “Don’t.”

“Can’t help it. You’re thinking too loudly.” He chuckled dryly, which made you smile. “This wasn’t your fault y’know.”

“I should’ve clocked the clickers; you wouldn’t be hurt if I had.” He pulled away from you once the bandage was set, turning to face the fire.

“Hey,” you reached forward, resting your good arm on his shoulder. He didn’t shrug you off, a good sign. “I‘m okay. I’m not bit, it’s just a little cut.” When he didn’t respond, you leaned forward for his hand. “Joel, I’m right here. I’m okay.”

You knelt down beside him, searching his face for any signs of relief. You watched as he looked down at your entwined hands and squeezed yours gently.

“I’m not…good at this.” He paused, thinking. “I haven’t been good at this in a very long time.”

You nodded, brushing your lips against the back of his hand. “S’okay. I’m not expecting anything from you. Can I tell you something?”

“‘Course,” he offered.

“I was scared shitless back there. I still am. But you know what makes it better? You do. You protected me and Ellie, just like you do every god damn day. You can sit here and grumble about would’ve, could’ve, should’ve, but it doesn’t matter. You did it; you saved us. You’re the best fucking thing that has happened to me since this shit started twenty years ago.”

Joel ducked his head, attempting to hide his tears from you, but it was no use. You slid yourself into his lap, gently wiping away his tears with your thumbs.

“I-I’m so afraid of losing you, of losing Ellie,” he whispered, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of the fire. “Every time I close my eyes, it’s all I see. It…it changes every night too. Sometimes it’s infected, sometimes it’s a hunter.” He takes a deep breath, pausing. “O-one time it was me; I-I was the one who killed you. O-or I’m walking Ellie right into her death. I can’t escape it.”

You pulled his head against your chest when he finished, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I could take the dreams away. I’d sacrifice myself if I could.”

Joel sat up, eyes stern as he placed his hands on your shoulder, grip hard. “Don’t you dare say that.”

“It’s true. I’d sacrifice myself to take your pain away, Joel. Without a second thought.”

He shook his head, grip on you still tight. “I’d rather face every demon in my dreams if it meant I got to wake up to you every morning.”

You kissed him then, soft and languid. Joel kissed you back, moving his arms around your waist to hold you closer. Your hands gripped the collar of his jacket, tugging him against you.

When you finally pulled away, Joel followed your lips, stealing another kiss. “Will you come to bed with me,” he whispered.

“All you had to do was ask,” you smiled sweetly, removing yourself from his lap and standing. Joel didn’t let go of you as he stood and let you toward his sleeping bag a few feet away. You let him climb in first before you followed, resting your head on his chest.

Once you zipped the bag shut, Joel turned on his side, back facing you. In response, you wrapped your arm around his middle, placing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. Joel hummed in response, which made you smile.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you whispered.

“Night,” he mumbled, sleep already calling to him.

#Joel miller #Joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #tlou #the last of us

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b0xerdancer-writes · 6 months

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It Wasn't Supposed To Happen Like This Part 3

Eris x Rhy's Sister! Reader

Summary: Eris used to be attached at the hip to Rhysand’s younger sister. Now that he has taken over as High Lord of the Autumn Court, his father’s old high table have been pressuring him to take a wife, he comes up with the brilliant lie that hes already courting someone and has been for several years now. Eris asks Rhysand’s little sister, the best way to get away with it and make it believable, to fake court her.

Warnings: Elain and Mor slander (I love Mor but it’s a plot point for later on I promise!), cussing 18+, some nsfw lean but no sex scenes yet, alcohol.

Trope/Prompt: Fake Dating

Word Count: 4,941

Notes: Part 3 is here, bit of a shorter chapter but im happy with where I left it off at, lots of Lucien and Eris bonding this chapter. Enjoy sweet affectionate drunk Eris. Not proofread at all. I posted this on my break. Posted on wrong account earlier oops!

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“You promised me we could go dance when I got back.” Happily intoxicated and finally relaxed, he wrapped his arms around me surrounding me with his scent of firewood and cinnamon.

Lucien gave me an apologetic look from over Eris’s shoulder, as Eris nuzzled into my neck and hummed sweetly. A blush crept to my face at the overly affectionate display from the eldest Vanserra brother. His breath fanned across my collarbone as purred against me and I couldn’t help but feel an ache in my chest wishing for this to be a regular thing that I got to experience, but I was drawn from my spot as the forms of Azriel and Rhys talking with the other reentered Rita’s. I tapped Eris lightly on the shoulder and he made a hum of acknowledgement, his honey amber eyes seeking out my own as he moved to pull me towards the floor.

Just as I moved to stand myself I felt a squeeze of my hand from Mor, who was giving me a look that was a mix of sympathetic and apologetic.

“I..,” she looked down into her lap where her other hand rested. “I never meant to lie, and I never meant for it to get so out of control like it is now. I, just, I’m sorry. I mean it. For what happened.”

I gave her a soft smile and squeezed back, biting back any bitter remarks that echoed in my brain after all these years of holding contempt against her. “Hey, no worries. We all have to do and say things to get by.”

She smiled softly back at me and moved her hand from mine into her lap as she let Eris pull me to the dance floor. She took a sip of wine and her shoulders deflated as Azriel and Rhys slid into the booth with her. Lucien had moved to the bar talking with the bartender there, though I couldn't see if he was ordering another drink or not.

Eris pulled me close to him away from the prying eyes of the inner circle as he put his hands around my waist and tucked me into his chest, a slight rumble echoing there that I could only feel through the music. The music was a slower one then what normally came from the live bands that rotated through, and Eris used it to his advantage as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, a small tilt of curiosity in his voice.

He brought my wrist up to his lips and pressed them to the small tattoo barely bigger than a fingernail. “What kinda deal did you make with her, hmm?”

I moved to cup his face with the same hand he kissed. “You're too far gone to understand the significance of what it means right now if I told you.” I smiled softly, moving to pull him with the music as it began picking up into a faster beat, a new song.

He raised a brow at me with a cocky, sarcastic, yet relaxed look on his face. Mischief danced in his eyes, I’d never get used to how good that looked on him.

“I’m sure even in my haze I’ll understand.” He smirked as he pulled me tight against him, a move that was influenced by a mix of the music and trying to lure me into giving him what he wants; A move I knew all too well, that managed to bring me to my knees everytime.

I sighed as I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down so he could hear me over the pounding music. “It was a deal to get her to stop slandering you so much, I didn;t even think it was going to be a deal. Think she made it so I would understand how much she was sorry for everything she did.”

His eyes twinkled, as a smile bloomed on his face that made him practically glow. He cupped my face with both hands, eyes locking with mine. “You stood up for me again? Made a whole bargain just so I wouldn’t be slandered?”

I nodded and he purred loud enough I could hear it even with the blaring music. My heart skipped a beat as he dropped my face and pressed my body into his, leaning down to whisper into my ear.

“Darling,” he mused “I will never be able to repay you for all the favors you do for me. Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to my temple before he spun me around and pressed my back against his chest with a smirk.

“Plus, when you defended me against Azriel’s words earlier it was pretty hot little fox~.” He purred into my ear, blush crept into my cheeks and I spun out of his hold.

He’s just drunk. There was no meaning behind his words really, just trying to get a rise out of me. “Get it together Eris, quit playing these games of yours.” I rolled my eyes and he let out a childish giggle.

“Okay, Okay fine. You win.” He surrendered but the mischief in his eyes wasn't gone.

He took my hand in his and spun me into him grabbing at my hands to lift me into his arms, my legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. He smiled wickedly at me, cheers erupted around us as the song came to a dramatic close. My eyes scanned the crowd behind Eris, everyone must have been watching us dance, he had managed to pull me into the center of the floor without me realizing.

He smirked at me and I leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Sly fox.”

His hand that supported my weight on my ass was a searing heat against me though he wasnt using any of his power. I jumped from his grasp to pull him into a quick bow. I was going to need several more drinks if this was how the night was going to proceed, sly remarks and lingering touches all masked under the influence of alcohol.

Song after song played and we let eachother lose ourselves in the others' touches and remarks. Fuck it, if this was temporary I was bound and fucking determined to enjoy what attention like this I could get from my mate, even if he didn’t know that little fact he seemed to be enjoying it just as much as I was. Eventually as the night grew later I felt Rhys’s claws against my shields and I greeted him with a grumble for interrupting.

“Heading home, Feyre is starting to miss Nyx. Have fun, but not too much fun. Sorry for earlier I should have stepped in, I know you wouldn’t have let anyone talk about Feyre like that in my absence.” I felt his power rub against my conscience apologetically, it felt sad and remorseful.

“Have a goodnight Rhys, tell Feyre night for me too.” I laughed softly. “Don’t worry Rhys, I'll be good. I wont say it’s okay cause its not and your right but I’ll forgive you brother. I love you, have a goodnight.”

“I will, love you too.” He slipped out of my thoughts with an affectionate caress and my shields slid back into place.

As I returned my attention to Eris he was pouting, brows furrowed as he looked into my eyes. “What’s wrong Eris?”

He let out a huff like a child throwing a tantrum. “Tell Rhys to leave you alone, it's us time.”

I smiled and wanted to laugh at his childish behavior but bit it back as I smoothed out his hair. “Don’t worry you poor thing, he's gone now, he was just apologizing and saying good night.”

He pouted further when I called him a poor thing and it made me smile softly, a warmth blooming in my chest, but once he noticed my full attention was back on him he perked up. We danced for a while longer till the alcohol seemed to lessen from his system and he deflated as he held me close.

“I have to go back to Autumn soon.” He sighed, dropping his forehead to my shoulder.

I couldn’t stand seeing him upset. “Welcome back to the land of the coherent.” I joked trying to cheer him up and I felt him smile against me.

“Thank you, I mean it. You always put me first and I’ll never be able to repay you for all of it.” He mumbled into my shoulder.

I rubbed at his shoulders as he leaned against me for a moment before I began pulling him off the dance floor. “I gotta close out our tab but then we can go relax for a bit before you have to leave, okay?”

He nodded, eyes not glimmering nearly as much as they had been and my heart ached for him. I pulled him with me to the bar, the tender busy making drinks told us it would be a minute before he could get to us. Eris bid his time wrapping his arms around my waist and buried his face in between my shoulders. I held his hands that were firmly clasped around me with one of mine as I finally closed our tab out. He growled under his breath when I made him release me so we could leave the bar and I swatted his hand softly with a giggle.

“You big teddy bear, we do have to leave the bar you know? You wanna go to the house of the wind? Or I actually share an apartment with Lucien in the city we can go there?” I crooned at him and felt him giggle into my shoulder.

“-partment” He cut himself off as he mumbled into my back.

“Wanna winnow or walk?” I rubbed at his forearm softly connecting the freckles that littered his skin.

“Walk, I don't know if I can winnow without getting sick.” He looked up from my shoulder, only his eyes showing over my shoulder. The gold and orange flecks in his amber eyes illuminated by the faelight signs behind the bar advertising the different brands they carried.

My breath caught in my throat as I entwined my hand with his and led him from the bar. He grumbled under his breath as I stepped out of his grasp. “I was comfy.”

I had to fight a giggle. “And I promise you, you can be comfy again when we get to the apartment.”

He mumbled a fine and moved to step in front of me so he could hold the door open for me to pass through. “Fine. I guess that's an acceptable promise then.”

I smiled up at him as I passed and turned around to offer my hand out to him again. A smile crept onto his face but exhaustion was present in his eyes as he entangled his hand in mine.

The walk to the apartment was slow, purposely though, so Eris could postpone having to put that mask back on and return to his court. It would probably be a week till I saw him again, a week for him that would be full of having to strategically put on a mask around his fathers court till he could replace them and build it the way he wanted to.

I felt a tug on my hand as Eris stopped to look out at the mountaintops, where a single shooting star fell and disappeared behind them.

He looked over at me and a soft barely there smile graced his features. “You make a wish?”

I would only ever wish for one thing, felt like if I asked for more then it would be too greedy of me, especially when the mother and the cauldron couldn't even grant me my single wish.

I nodded in response and the softest smile graced his features and his entire body seemed to relax. “So did I.”

I wanted to ask what he wished for but knew there was the superstition about if you told what your wish was that it wouldn’t come true, so I left the question unasked. He took a step back to my side and motioned to the sidewalk ahead of us.

“Ready whenever you are.” He looked down on me and the shop lights caught his eyes making them flicker like fire.

Fuck I wanted to kiss him here and now, but if I did I put everything on the table. I couldn’t lose this so I opted to push the feeling down and it felt like I was going to suffocate as I pulled him towards the apartment again. The rest of the walk was quiet Eris falling into line beside me. Once we made it to the apartment I led him up the stairs to see no lights on, Lucien must still be out then I reasoned.

I pushed the door open, the wards clicking to life and unlocking at my presence. Inside was decorated in a mix of autumn and night colors, mine and Lucien’s safe haven here. The couch was large enough to fit both me, Lucien and one other person, the wood frame was a dark almost black color and the fabric that lined it a deep reddish orange that had reminded me of eris’s hair when we picked it out. A large blanket made of fur was thrown across the back of it, in case me or Lucien passed out there, on one of the 2 throw pillows it came with. Lucien had picked out a reading chair that was a deep emerald green that he’d tucked into a corner by a bookshelf, I knew he picked the color because it reminded him of Tamlin and the Spring Court but said nothing to him. He had a similar blanket to the one on the couch folded on the ottoman that matched the chair, the novel Lucien had been reading before he left for his mission sat bookmarked on top of the blanket.

Plants and candles littered the space, nicknacks reminiscent of Spring and autumn sat on nearly every shelf. A small coffee table separated the couch from the fireplace, on it my own books sat, one a precursor to the one Lucien had been reading and the other a gift from my father when I was younger that talked about constellations and astronomy. As I led Eris inside I could see his eyes sparkle and watched his shoulders completely deflate as he stepped over the boundary, I closed the door behind him and the wards locked into place again.

Eris looked around a second before he found himself standing in front of the fireplace. He squatted down and sparked the fire to life before he stood back up and spotted a small wooden carved figure of a fox sitting regally, it had scratches and tiny dents in the soft wood but it was after all over 500 years old. Eris picked it up and turned it over, his eyes found mine and he looked like he was going to start crying.

“You still have this?” His voice cracked. Fuck.

I nodded. “Of course I do, it was the first gift you ever gave me.”

He had carved that fox for me by the edge of the pond the next time we had visited, it had become our regular spot to go when our fathers were meeting.

He set it back into its spot and wiped his eyes where tears had begun to bubble. I moved to sit on the couch and he took a few shaky steps forward before he dropped to his knees and buried his face in my lap, tears spilling from his eyes. Fuck this was so similar to the day he had been told he was to be engaged to Mor.

I entwined my fingers in his hair, trying to sooth him softly but my own tears were beginning to line my eyes. We sat and he cried in my lap for an hour before he began falling asleep where he sat on the floor with his head on my knees. I couldn’t begin to comprehend why me still having that fox caused him to break like that, I wanted to ask but knew if I pried it would probably cause more pain. Somewhere the voice in my head answered me with the thought “because it shows you actually care. That you've always been there and always will be.”

I noticed his breathing had slowed, only catching here or there and I moved a stray hair behind his ear and he looked up at me, his sorrow filled eyes finding mine.

“You aren’t going back tonight, are you? It's awfully late and I wouldn’t want you to get sick from winnowing.” My voice was barely audible but he shook his head and sniffled softly.

“Then let's go get you into some comfy clothes, yeah?” He nodded and leaned back onto his knees to let me stand.

As I stood I ran my fingers through his hair and he closed his eyes to lean into my touch. Mother save me, even after crying for so long he still managed to look so pretty. I extended my hand out to him and he placed his in mine gently, as he stood his knees popped and he cringed; he had spared them no mercy with the force he collapsed onto them with earlier.

I led him to Lucien’s room, the two had to be a similar size I gathered based on what it looked like when they stood beside each other earlier. An old wooden dresser was tucked into the corner of the younger male’s room and I led eris to sit on the bed as I scrounged through the drawers till I found a pair of sleep pants. I pulled a loose white sleep shirt from the closet and passed them to Eris.

“Go ahead and change, I’m going to slip into some comfy clothes of my own. My rooms right across the hall, when you are done just head to the living room. I’ll make us some tea and we can relax. Okay?” he just nodded as he looked at the clothes and I slipped out of the room, closing the door and stepping into my own room.

I pulled a wine, almost maroon color set of satin pajama set, a tank top and pair of shorts, from my own dresser; quick to change into them I wrapped a matching sleep robe over my shoulders and slipped back out into the hallway. I could see Eris’s shadow on the wall of the hallway, the events of the day catching up to me as I processed everything now that I finally had a moment to breathe softly. I stepped into the kitchen, making us a pot of chamomile tea, drizzling the slightest bit of honey into our cups.

Eris looked at me with the saddest smile as I handed him the cup and he took a sip of it. I put my own cup on the coffee table Eris following suit as he swallowed; he scooted a few inches down before he laid down on the couch, his head on my lap. My fingers found his hair as I watched the fire flicker in the hearth, he had one hand resting right above my knee which he clung to me with as if I would be ripped from his grasp.

After a few minutes his breathing became shallow and I looked down at his sleeping face. He finally looked relaxed, I reached above him to pull the fur blanket onto his frame, and began humming a soft lullaby my father would sing to me when I was upset.

I must have fallen asleep myself, because next thing I know I was woken up by the wards unlocking. As the door was pushed open Lucien stilled in the doorway, eyes wide like he had walked in on something he shouldn’t have. He settled after a second and shut the door behind him softly, wards clicking locked.

“I thought he was going back tonight?” Lucien raised a brow in question.

“He was originally. I offered to bring him back here to relax before he had to go back…” I trailed off

“But?” Lucien brought our cups to the kitchen, sitting them softly in the sink with a clink.

“When we got back, he spotted the little fox he carved me and broke down crying. I mean he was fully on his knees crying into my lap Luci.” I sighed and tucked a stray hair away from Eris’s face.

Lucien hummed in acknowledgement, quickly washing the cups and putting them away. “You know why?”

“No. He didn't say anything once he stopped crying.” I mumbled softly watching the way Eris’s features softened as I stroked his hair back.

Lucien stalked across the living room barely making a sound, besides a creak of a floor board. Leaning back and kicking his feet up onto the ottoman, he threw the blanket over his legs and sat the book on his lap.

“Its because he has realized that after all this time, you still genuinely care about him. That you have never once had a thing against him, never once thought him the terrible male everyone else does. That you still care, always have and always will.” Lucien sighed before he continued. “After all they said tonight, I think it got to him. When we went to the bathroom, he said something that got to me even. It didn’t make sense to me till now.”

I looked up at Lucien who had his head leaned back and was staring at the ceiling. “What did he say?”

His amber eye found mine, something serious in them. “I barely caught it under his breath, probably shouldn’t have even heard it. But he said ‘she's why i’m doing this, she’s why I’ve got to be better, she’s why.’ He was practically chanting it under his breath. I think Azriel’s words got in his head, I know he struggled with feeling he was enough of a good male to still call you his friend. Our father’s abuse broke how he views himself, so under that mask he wears opinions to get to him when it's. It’s a lot for him, it gets to him.”

I nodded, felt the tears line my eyes again but Lucien caught me off before I could say anything. “So when he saw that one little figure, it might be silly to you to see him cry over it but it was proof that even to one person, one person he cares for more than the Prythian itself, that he is none of those things and that someone actually cares, shattered him. Trust me when I say this hun, but he would raze all the courts to the ground if something happened to you, so yeah your opinion of him matters more than anything to him.”

Tears ran down my face slowly. “But why?”

“Why what?”Lucien half smiled.

“Why do I matter so much” I sniffled

“Honestly, I don't know, just do. If I had to guess it's because you have been there since the beginning, since before his life went to shit.” Lucien hummed. “Now stop crying or you’ll wake him up, wipe your cheeks off.”

I wiped my face and nodded quickly. “Can I ask something?” Lucien mused.

I nodded. “Yeah?”

“You emphasized the fact that he was on his knees. Like you had seen it before, what happened last time that made you realize how important the reason for crying was to him, whatever it was?” He returned his gaze to the ceiling.

“It was the woods after he was informed about his engagement to Mor…” I mumbled and looked down to watch how Eris’s fingers clung to my leg.

“Oh.” Lucien hissed.

“He snuck out a bottle of alcohol and we ran off to our spot in the woods. He broke down in my arms, we broke down and cried together.” I sighed “He begged me to not leave him alone in the world.”

Lucien sat up fairly quickly. “He.. He begged you?” Lucien’s eyes both found purchase on me. “He thought you would leave him and he begged you to stay?”

I nodded. “He begged and apologized and we both cried harder than I thought was possible. He asked if I hated him Lucien.” The younger male sucked in the sharp breath.

“What did you say to him?” The redhead murmured to me like it was almost forbidden to say it out loud.

“I promised him that I never have, never could, and never will.” I brushed Eris’s hair out of his face again and he smiled in his sleep and purred against my thigh.

Lucien’s eyes widened as if he realized something that had eluded him for years. “You made a deal with him that you would never be able to hate him… You wouldn't have made that deal unless you knew it couldn’t be broken no matter what. Your mates aren’t you?”

I nodded and Lucien wiped his face with your hands. “He doesn't know does he?”

I shook my head again. “No he doesn't”

Lucien hissed under his breath. “Oh now you two have most definitely worked yourselves into a mess.”

I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”

“He loves you, I know that much. For you to matter that much to him he has too. He chose you for this whole fake dating thing for a reason then” Lucien mumbled.

I stilled and cut him off. “He said he chose me because I was the first female that came to mind that he trusted enough to ask to do this.” I hissed.

“The first female,” Lucien hissed back, “Because he is in love with you.”

We both sighed loudly and Lucien turned to me with a soft look in his eyes. “Just don’t let him burn himself out is all I ask. He’s the only other good member of my family, snuck me out to Spring Court, warned me about what they were going to do to Jes.”

I nodded and he stood. “I'm going to go take a bath, have a good night, I’ll see you both in the morning.”

Jesminda came up, after all these years it was still a sore spot for him. Especially after he had seen Elain hanging on Azriel, I was just surprised he brought it up himself. Showed how much Eris truly meant to him, made sense why he cared so much but his wording confused me.

“What do you mean by ‘Don’t let him burn himself out?’ Lucien?” I furrowed my brows in confusion.

Lucien stilled in the archway of the hall, his back still to me as he looked over his shoulder. “I mean he is willing to play with as much fire as it takes to stay close to you even if he burns out in the process. Don’t let him burn out, keep his spark ignited, fan it into a raging forest fire. We both know the capability he has to become one of the best males there is, we both know the only reason he has to do that now is you. He is reforming Autumn for you it seems like. Keep that spark fanned, strike out whoever wants to snuff it. The only thing keeping him burning is you.” Lucien’s mind was racing as he spoke but mine was equally so.

He turned and looked me dead in the eyes, a fire raged deep within them. “Promise me, make a deal with me here and now.”

“What?” I was taken off guard by his tone of voice.

He strode over to me with his hand extended. “Let's make a deal here and now that you will protect him, that you won't let him burn out or let anything bad ever happen to him again. That you’ll chase his terrible thoughts away, just like you did tonight, whenever they become unbearable for him.”

I looked back down at his hand, then back up into his amber and metal eyes. I placed my hand firmly in his. “It's a deal.”

I didn’t want anything from Lucien in exchange, knew we both wanted the same thing here, for Eris to be happy. I knew what my purpose was the second I felt the sting of a new bargain tattoo on my upper right arm. As I pulled back from Lucien and looked to the spot i had felt the sting, I knew that no matter how long it was going to take even if we got into a terrible argument after this arrangement, that I would wait for Eris and be there to chase his fears away, knew the second my eyes locked on the tattoo that perfectly mirrored the wooden fox Eris carved for me all those years ago. In the same spot on Lucien’s shoulder was a constellation in deep red ink.

Lucien smiled at me and returned to the archway calling over his shoulder before he disappeared with a smirk. “Goodnight Sister.”

It felt like my body absorbed all the heat it could from Eris and pushed it right into my face, my heart racing and an ache settled in my chest that was only soothed by Eris’s fingers clinging slightly tighter to me. I settled taking the second throw pillow and putting it behind my head, the least Lucien could have done was give me his blanket before he left, Fuck.

Taglist:

@stained-glass-eyes0708

@acourtofbatboydreams

@abysshaven

@wallacewillow0773638

#acotar #acotar x reader #eris vanserra x reader #a court of thorns and roses #eris acotar #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra

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lizhly-writes · 2 months

Text

hi. it's sqh/yqy again. you're going to need to read the preceding segment of this for it to make sense.

1 - Critical Failure!

The thing about Yue Qingyuan was that he was really fucking good at this whole cultivation thing. It wasn't for nothing that OP protagonist son Bing-ge had to catch Yue Qingyuan in a trap first to get a good chance at killing him! Even now, years before he'd really hit his prime, Yue Qingyuan was the perfect model cultivator, with a strong and expertly trained body, and, relevantly to this situation, actually pretty fast and possessed of a very good reaction time.

All this to say, Shang Qinghua got out the window.

He did not get much further than the window, because Yue Qingyuan also dove out the window (gracefully!) and (less gracefully!) proceeded to bodily tackle Shang Qinghua.

There was some rolling and shouting and flailing involved. Let it not be said that Shang Qinghua went down without a fight! Or at least without some screaming and crying!

Yue Qingyuan still managed to pin Shang Qinghua down, because of course he did.

"I'm not a chair, stop sitting on me!"

"Just a moment, I really do--" Yue Qingyuan paused to deal with Shang Qinghua's elbow to his face and also slam it down so Shang Qinghua couldn't elbow him again -- "appreciate -- your concern. But there's really no need to bother Shen-shidi with these things, so if you could just -- hold still--"

"Hahaha, no way bro!" Shang Qinghua said, and bit him.

Was this a smart decision? Not really, but it sure was satisfying!

Yue Qingyuan made a noise that could have been an aborted swear. "Shang-shidi, I don't think that was necessary."

"Necessary is a subjective term!" Shang Qinghua said. "It's necessary to turn in paperwork, but have you seen how many people I need to chase down for that?? Clearly the definition isn't universal!"

"That's not the same --"

"It's absolutely the same!"

"You don't bite them!"

"And what if I did? Maybe I should!! Maybe they'll learn to fill out the requisition forms correctly then!!!"

"That isn't--" Yue Qingyuan exhaled. "This isn't... are you... still going to tell Qingqiu?"

"I don't know, am I???"

"It's... private. Please don't tell him."

"If I don't, will you?"

Yue Qingyuan laughed. It was an empty and unpleasant sound. "He wouldn't want me reminding him how I failed." His head drooped down, closer to Shang Qinghua's chest. "I broke my promise, Shang-shidi. Who wants to hear about that again?"

...Was Yue Qingyuan about to cry on him?

.Wow! This situation was already uncomfortable! It was about to get even more uncomfortable!

"If I say I won't," Shang Qinghua wheedled, "then will you get off me."

Having the thighs of a strong and beautiful cultivator on either side of him was the stuff of the shitty romance novels he still liked reading. Every man's dream! Super sexy! Except the romance novels never accounted for when the cultivator was about to have a nervous breakdown! Opposite of sexy, actually!

"You still want to tell him, don't you?" Yue Qingyuan said. "I don't think it'll be better that way. Even if it's you and not me -- especially if it's you and not me -- won't it be worse? Wouldn't he just be angry that I couldn't tell him myself?"

"Isn't this conversation pointless if you're not planning on telling him yourself?" Shang Qinghua said.

Yue Qingyuan looked down at him with big, sad eyes. "Qinghua, please don't say anything."

Ah? Aaah?? Was Yue Qingyuan trying puppy-dog eyes? That wasn't going to work, Yue-shixiong! Too bad! People did that on An Ding everyday! Shang Qinghua was immune! He had no sympathy!

"Don't cry on me," Shang Qinghua said.

Yue Qingyuan laughed again.

Somebody choked.

It was... not Shang Qinghua. It was very much a sound Shang Qinghua would make, but...

Shang Qinghua tilted his head back, and there it was. A little Qiong Ding disciple coming through the brush, scroll in hand, probably playing messenger boy. He was staring at them, wide-eyed and white-faced.

Shang Qinghua suddenly became horribly aware of his position -- Yue Qingyuan on top of him, straddling his hips, pinning his hands over his head, both of them disheveled and breathing hard. He'd been bucking up to try to get Yue Qingyuan off, but at first glance, it looked like... well, that he was, ha, trying to get Yue Qingyuan off. You know, the other way.

"Ah," Yue Qingyuan said, in the tone of someone who was experiencing the same revelation as Shang Qinghua and was just beginning to conceptualize the impact of it on his honorable and righteous reputation.

This would be really funny if Shang Qinghua was not involved.

"I see Da-shixiong is busy with private matters!" squeaked the little Qiong Ding shidi. "Sorry to interrupt! I'll come back later!"

"That's not necessary," Yue Qingyuan began, hastily straightening up. Ah, but that was too little, too late. Shidi was already way out of earshot and disappearing into the distance, clearly intent on respecting the privacy of Da-shixiong.

"So," Shang Qinghua said conversationally, "what are the chances your shidi is going to tell everyone not to disturb you because you're busy?" He put as much suggestiveness in the last word as he possibly could, just so Yue Qingyuan got the point.

Yue Qingyuan winced. "Yan-shidi is... not subtle."

"So everyone's going to know this happened."

"... Likely, yes."

"And they're all going to think we were about to fuck nasty outside."

"Um," Yue Qingyuan said.

Yue Qingyuan was still sitting on him.

Shang Qinghua let the back of his head hit the ground with a thump. "Fuck."

#sqh/yqy #svsss #my writing #shang qinghua #yue qingyuan

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dizzy-after-dark · 6 months

Text

Cauterized | Steve Rogers

BOOM MIC DROP: SMUT FOR THE END OF THE YEAR! Y'all didn't think I would not post once this year, did you. Well, here it is. I TRIED! Mwah; see you in 2024!

Tags: Angst (not really but yeah), SMUT, fluff

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Notes: UHHHHH 18+ BUCKOS; this is a continuation of Ignorant, which is the first part and angsty as FUCK but a personal fave of mine if I do say so myself; been really thinking about finishing my requests from over a year ago for Dinner At Dizzy's on my other account, @dizzydancingdreamer (masterlist linked if you're feeling peckish)

Warnings (what to expect, ig): oral (f recieving), fingering, sex (???), uhhhm lack of descriptive writing from a rusty author, sappiness, swearing, bad metaphors, shower sex, alcohol consumption (BARELY), size kink, over-use of the word "Stevie"

Word Count: 4.6k

She pushes the door closed, turning the shower on lazily. Her muscles ache as she twists the knob all the way to the left. Somewhere, sometime she was told about cauterization. You can seal wounds closed with fire— forcibly fuse the skin back together. She has no cuts. Nothing to fuse. And only hot water. However, maybe stepping into the scalding stream might fix the part of her brain that keeps replaying it all, over and over.

Baby I—

If anything, it might numb her. She would take that too right now. Hence the bottle on the counter, partially drunk and already open. She takes the first swig, the liquid like fuel to the inferno raging in her stomach, burning the rest of her in the process. The taste is acrid— she’s never been much of a drinker. She just wants to forget it all. Setting it down with a clunk, she strips out of grimey shirt, letting it puddle at her feet.

Looking at the material, which at one point was a stark white but will now forever be a dingy gray, she laughs. Not really but, yeah, kind of— one of those half amused huffs, anyway. A pity laugh, for the state of her life. That shirt is practically trash. Even if she had the time, energy, or resources to wash it, there’s no way it’ll ever be the same.

She should just throw it out.

Is she even talking about the shirt anymore?

She kicks it into the corner, hands falling to the button of her jeans, swollen knuckles screaming as she fails a few times to push the little metal circle through the loop.

“Goddamnit,” she mutters to herself, and to the ghosts, and the spider she saw in the corner when she came in but didn’t have the heart to make the latter as well.

She’s already made too many ghosts.

“I, uh, I can help?”

None of those ghosts have ever answered before, though.

Whirling around, fists balling in front of her face, she readies herself in less than a breaths time to send said ghost straight back to the grave—

“Woah, easy there, baby—”

Only to find Steve, his baby blues wide and a tad panicked but his hand nevertheless peeking through the crack of the door, reaching for her. Mind glazing over with confusion and, well, a fair bit of something russian and label-less, she blinks up at him and the damn door. She closed that— she remembers closing it… right?

Her eyes flick down and the fire in her belly kindles a little more.

“Are you kidding me?” She groans, the exhaustion an unwelcome guest in the cavern of her chest.

His boot, right there in the doorway, holding the measly wooden traitor open. She never heard the damn click. Didn’t even bother to listen for it. Rookie mistake, honestly. She can’t even be mad, really.

“Please just let me help.” Steve pushes past the door, both arms now extended towards her, but he doesn’t touch her yet.

He’s waiting. She stays silent. Partly because she has no idea what to say— or what she wants— and partly because he hates it. He absolutely, agonizingly hates when she gives him the silent treatment. She watches his jaw tick, lips pressing together until they go white, and there’s a sick part of her that relishes in the cool satisfaction rushing down her spine.

You made me like this.

But there’s also a part of her that mourns with him when he clears his throat, crystal eyes flooding over, liquid and glassy, and lowers his arms slightly. Not all the way. He’s hopeful, maybe. America’s sweetheart is always hopeful, that’s one of the things she fell in love with him for.

That’s still Steve— her Steve.

“I know—” Steve swallows, “I messed up. I just— you’re hurt, baby. Lemme’ help.”

She huffs— why is it so fucking complicated? Why can’t they just be normal?

She is hurt. Nothing needs cauterizing but there’s no denying her mottled skin, blue-ish under the crappy motel bathroom lights. Her hands throb, joints screaming at her— when she turns to the mirror, she almost gags at the slight bald patch behind her right ear— fuck, that one had really stung. Absolutely ridiculous the way some people fight these days.

Her silence is deafening.

She wants to sob. It’s right there, in the hollow of her throat— she wants to scream. Maybe not at him but in general. She used to live in a penthouse, with all her friends, and the love of her life. Now what? She used to get hurt like this back then too but now it feels purposeless— what are they even doing this for if they have nothing. Have no one. It made sense when she still had him.

Meeting his gaze in the mirror— disappearing a bit into fogged up glass but there regardless— she still has him. Kind of. But she still doesn’t say anything when she turns back to face him. The frown carved into her face feels vile— deep and disgusting and entirely real— but she can’t make it go away. She can’t stop the sniffle, either. Why can’t she just tell him she misses him?

“Fuck.”

It’s mumbled under his breath. The Captain America, standing in some rundown wreck of a place off some lonely highway, is swearing. Because of her. Is this hell? It feels like hell.

But, no, it can’t be, because his hands are so, so gentle as they cup her cheeks, thumbs softly dancing over the bruises, half assessing, half trying. Trying to do what, she doesn’t know. Wipe them away? Commit them to memory? She leans into his touch regardless, conceding ever so slightly. She won’t say it, but he can help. There isn’t a universe in which she would truly deny him.

The first tear that falls isn’t hers, but his, landing on her forehead right before he buries his face in her hair, wrapping those supersoldier arms around her, trying and, well, failing not to crush her in the process. The tenderness in her broken body is worth it, though, because he smells like home, even if tinged with gunpowder and war.

“I am so sorry—” he whispers, heartbeat erratic under her ear, chest heaving for breath— “I am so sorry I brought this on you. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”

Complicated. She fists his t-shirt as hard as she can— fists in until her hands go numb. It’s not fair how complicated it has to be for them.

Steve didn’t throw her into the fight, didn’t slam his fist into her eye, or rip her hair out by the handful. Steve didn’t even make her come with him when he left; that was entirely her choice. But he did lose his mind a little bit. Power tripped a little too hard. Focused so much on keeping them all safe that he missed the part where he was just supposed to hug her— and that’s what sucked most— but he is now, right?

That has to count for something?

He pulls back and her fingers tighten, steeling, tensing. He can’t go, even if she isn’t sure what they are anymore.

The agony in his eyes when he draws the line from her balled fists holding on for dear fucking life to her own, misty gaze is indescribable. “Baby I don’t know how to fix this. I want to, I—” he clears his throat again and her frown carves even further into her skin, eyebrows drawing together— “I want to so fucking bad.”

He plants his forehead against hers and it aches, the warmth of his skin. “I don’t want to make it worse. I need you to tell me how to help.”

There’s a stinging in her throat where the words simply don’t manifest. What the fuck is she supposed to say? Nothing, at all, really, because she doesn’t even know how to fix her and she’s not mad so there’s nothing to fix… but isn’t there? Isn’t there something between them that desperately needs mending? Isn’t she mad?

Is it anger?

Or is it something much more primal.

No, there are no words she can tell him. She could show him, though. Maybe that will work.

Letting his shirt go, she watches the breath catch in his chest, stuck and frantic. She knows that feeling well— that icy desperation to keep holding on no matter what. But she’s only grabbing his hands, not leaving him, and he’ll see that soon so she continues to drag him towards the stupid, little button that her useless fingers couldn’t seem to undo. In hindsight, maybe they were just waiting for him.

Realizing, his forehead is off hers quickly, eyes seeking hers. “What? I don’t—” She flattens his palms against her stomach, engulfing the button, and he breathes the last word out— “understand.”

Her brows raise, cheeks still on fire but now also burning— yes you do.

“Are you sure?” He asks but there’s a little click— the same one she hadn’t heard earlier— as his boot clad foot kicks the door properly shut, and she’s pretty sure he knows just how sure she is.

All it takes is her thumbs on his, prodding them towards her arch nemesis— damn you, Levi jeans— and the soldier is moving, not rough in his quick actions, but determined. The button is no match for Steve Rogers on a regular day, but today? Now that he has a goal? A starting place? The button may as well have disintegrated under his fingers.

Her own hands fly to his shoulders, clinging to him as he tugs the blasted jeans off her legs, trying the best she can not to topple over with the sheer force of him. Material pooling at her feet, his palms smooth so slowly back up her now bare legs, rising goosebumps in their wake. She hasn’t been touched in ages— she feels kind of like an animal waking up from hibernation, disorientated and hungry.

Grabbing at her hips suddenly, her ass is on the cool countertop before she even has the chance to get dizzy. Spreading her thighs with his own, he works on her bra next— this faded, hole ridden thing that if she wasn’t so engulfed in searing, licking desire, she’d probably be embarrassed about. But it’s gone so soon that she doesn’t have a chance and replaced instead with two, bulky hands that entirely engulf her breasts.

They squeeze her skillfully— with purpose. Thumbs swiping delicious circles around her nipples, flicking this way and that, exactly how he knows she likes it— exactly the way that should have her as a mewling heap in his hold. But she’s not— she’s contained, even as her very skin thrums alive with anticipation. Is this revenge or is it just fucking complicated?

She can’t decide so instead she bites the moan clawing at her throat into small enough pieces to swallow, all the while tuning into something dark that sparks in his ever watchful gaze.

She’s caught— he gets it now.

“Really, baby?” He muses, palming her, squeezing just hard enough to give the touch a slight bite. His tone has her feeling like a deer in his headlights— like a freight train is barrelling directly at her and there’s nowhere to go— and she squeezes her thighs around him, welcoming the collision. “You think I won’t work for it?”

She only blinks at him. Once… twice…

Her panties are dropped somewhere into the abyss, long forgotten with the rest of her clothes, and his knees thud heavily against the tiled floor. Replacing his body, his head now hovers right in front of a different button, golden hair tickling her sensitive skin as he pulls her legs over his thick shoulders. His skin is warm but not as much as his balmy breath which hits her clit, teasing her into a mess, hands curling around the edge of the counter.

Come on, Steve.

But, no, he doesn’t give in to her just yet. First, he turns to her inner thigh, sucking her skin into his mouth with bruising pressure before letting it go with a pop. He peers up— nothing. Moving to the other one, he whispers quick kisses over her sex but never lingers, only biting into her flesh once more once across her mound, teeth almost teasing a whimper from her this time but no, she’s not budging.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t driving her crazy. Inside, she screams— she craves. C’mon baby just give it to me. Outwardly, her hands drunkenly find his hair, tugging at his soft locks. Now, now, now she chants furiously.

He unseals his lips from her thigh, peering up, less dangerous and back to being her ever hopeful boyfriend— is her her boyf— He kisses her folds, spongy lips lingering a moment, rendering her blank and feverish. Angelic— he’s angelic. From under his long lashes he all but begs her, his dark eyes starving and wanting, but his hands are so soft on her hips, massaging deep into her. It’s this mixture of puppy dog pleading and a knowing of sorts— he knows she’s going to cave eventually.

How does he do that?

“Words? Please?”

She only pouts and, again, the switch flips. “Fine.”

The word is punctuated with the warm, wet stripe he licks up her center, flicking his tongue languidly over her clit. For as rushed as he’d started this mission, he’s truly never been one to speed through his meals, preferring instead to devour her slowly— expertly— tasting her thoroughly like he has all the time in the world. Meanwhile her body pulses, teetering dangerously already on the knife-sharp edge of too much and too little as he masterfully carves her out.

Her hands, which had moments ago tried to pull him closer, now use his hair as handles to keep herself from toppling off the counter when he slides her closer to him, burying his face fully into her heat. Heels digging into his back, she watches the spot where his shirt rides up intently, consumed not only by the harsh sucking on her clit but also the tanned, muscled skin peeking out and then disappearing below his own jeans, taunting her. Why hadn’t she taken it off him first?

She doesn’t have time to think much more about it though because he’s ravenous and she may as well be ice cream, sweet and sticky, melting all over him, dripping down the sides of his face and fingers as they begin prodding against her. They tease, pushing into her but not quite far enough— hard enough.

His gaze on her is overpowering— it’s deliberate.

“Y’know,” he speaks against her, the vibrations making her tense, “you can just tell me what you want ‘and I'll do it.”

Her mouth is like sandpaper— her brain, uncooperative. This push and pull is becoming lethal, the next few pokes of his tongue honey slow and spine jolting. Please— she wants to beg. She’s so empty. So, so, achingly empty. Would his fingers even be enough? At this point, it’s as though he would need to crawl into her very chest to fill her up the way she needs to be. How could her words even convey something so needy?

“Anything, baby. Whatever you want.”

They can’t, so they don’t, but for the sounds she refuses to make, he doubles in his own, moaning his frustrations right against her. If he can’t make her say anything, he damn sure is going to make her do something. That’s probably why he finally caves, pushing his fingers in to the hilt, and she was stupid to think they couldn’t fill her, the slight burn of them not at all foreign but definitely intense.

As they bury themselves in her over and over and over again, she bucks against his hand, chasing the start of a little ball of electricity growing in the pit of her stomach, getting higher and higher with every twist of his fingers. Combined with the incessant flick of his tongue— she’s a goner. Stifling the moan, her teeth find home in her lip, biting so hard her mouth gains a slight tang that excites her even more. What’s she even doing?

Wouldn’t it be more fun if she just let loose? Isn’t that what’s been missing the whole time? The fun?

When she sees the glint in his piercing stare— impish despite everything they’ve been through— she gets it. It’s hopeless— she is and they are but they’re together and the fun isn’t gone— she’s done. He earned it.

“Stevie—” she finally cries, animalistic; it doesn’t sound like his name but he must know it is because, even with the intense throbbing consuming her entire body, she can feel his shoulders soften under her thighs— “please don’t stop, I’m so close!”

“That’s it baby,” he coos against her clit, voice raw, compliant as he continues to pump his fingers in time to her squirming, “that’s my girl. I missed that pretty voice of yours.”

At what point the first orgasm turns into a second, she isn’t sure. It’s all one big blur of her whiny moans, wanton and liquid body, and his hushed prayers against her flushed skin, tongue lapping relentlessly against her. More baby; I know you can give me more. She doesn’t so much hear them as she does become them, absorbing them into her skin. That’s it angel— so good, so good for me.

She can feel him drinking in her mumbled, jagged noises, some words but others mere syllables, coaxed out of her by tongue and fingers all the same. Steve— honey— mmph, fuck, right there— oh my— the words pour out now, dam broken beyond repair, and for some reason, or maybe a lack thereof, it spurs her on even more, a freed woman if ever there was one—

“Oh my god, Stevie!”

It’s maddening— he’s maddening.

He’s relentless.

It isn’t until she yanks his still-eager mouth away from her, stomach iron-tense from way too much overstimulation, does he slowly draw his hand reluctantly back from her shuddering body. His other arm unwinds from where it’s been snaked around her knee, anchoring her to him throughout the duration of his worship. Now pushing him upright, holding him just near enough to where she can hear his labored breaths but not feel them, she shivers, cold as ice without his heat.

He stares down at her, unmoving, and her heart jumps in her chest. She doesn’t understand— he’s just standing there while she shudders, breathless. His shirt is stretched, no doubt from her pulling at it, and in noticing the damage she remembers how she’s completely naked and he’s completely not. Exposed doesn’t even begin to touch how she feels.

She wraps her arms around her chest, knees drawing up to tuck under her chin. “Steve?”

She’d forgotten what it felt like to constantly have him next to her— to have his furnace like warmth melting into her skin almost every minute. Now that she’s had her first real taste of him again, she’s de-acclimated to being alone. She needs him.

“C’mere,” she begs, shaking and a bit confused, why isn’t he touching her still, “please, Stevie, come back.”

When her fingers finally swipe against his shirt, barely snagging it, he flinches, coming back to her. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean—”

She flings herself at him, heart off kilter and erratic in her chest as her lips press against his, swallowing his apologies and hoping beyond anything else that he just catches her, like he always does. He does, kissing her back fervently— reverently. His tongue, tinted with her essence, scoops into her mouth the same way he had been between her thighs. She welcomes the way he takes charge, knowing he holds her against him with every ounce of strength he has.

“—’m sorry,” he pants into her mouth, clearly not satisfied with the success of her attack, “so, so sorry baby.”

He repeats the words deliriously. Presses them into her hair and against her temple, on her chin and both her cheeks. He especially feeds them to her, word for word, against her lips, soft at first and then rough, frenzied. He’s not talking about right now. He’s still back in that apartment; the fallen angel amongst the rubble, wings too broken to just leave it.

It’s not complicated. And it’s not revenge, because she could never make him feel worse than he already does, nor would she want to. So, in between kisses and apologies, she answers.

“I know, Stevie.”

“It’s ok— we’re ok, Stevie.”

“Steve, stop— I love you!”

He stops. He sets her down, bare feet planting unsteady against the ground. He steps back. What?

“Stevie?” She questions, already moving forward, but his arms, sweeping over his head, towing his shirt up and off, halt her in her tracks.

Oh.

This time, when she says his name it's only a breathy moan, fingers searching for his belt loops and hooking him towards her. In the time it takes for her hands to find the button— this one, thankfully, popping open immediately— there must be a god somewhere who didn’t abandon them in the rubble— he’s back on her, one hand carefully threading through her hair, dragging her mouth back to his, while the other pushes the rest of his clothes to the ground.

“I love you, I love— ah, fuck,” he hisses as her hand wraps around him, thumb brushing over his velvety tip.

For the first time, she smiles against his mouth, calm. “Language, Rogers.”

He pulls back, one neat eyebrow flicked up, but there’s humor in his eyes— no more tension. No more worry. Just fun. He leans down, nuzzling his chin down the side of her face, breath fanning her ear. Her hand stutters as it tugs on him, dragging up and down. He’s so hard— it’s been so damn long.

“Thought I was Stevie, baby?” It’s an absent minded tease, blush lips parted even after the fact, glued to the way she touches him.

In turn she watches his face, crowned in a mussed up halo of gold, some of which sticks to his forehead but most falling at every which angle, a product of her thighs sealing themselves around him. She can’t say that she’s never seen him this disheveled but she’ll never get used to it. He’s perfect— she makes him so messy.

Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one enjoying herself, though, if the heaviness of him between her fingers, rutting into her palm is anything to go by. She squeezes harder, testing something, and he groans something almost inhuman against her neck. Guttural. He’s so close already. It fuels her like nothing else, tickling the part of her that just wants to please. She’s making reparations, too. Speeding up, she works him faster. Come on, honey.

“Stevie—” she echoes and the next thing she knows, he’s pulling her off him, pushing her towards the steam which billows out from behind the curtain.

From the moment her feet touch the warm, wet surface of the shower floor, everything is a blur. The water sprays over her harshly, but only for a moment, before he overpowers it with his own, massive body, just as searing against her skin. She registers the slick splat of her back against the wall, a grunt— missed this, baby, and her own feral howl as he slams into her. There’s no waiting, no tiptoeing, only his cock sealing them together furiously once more.

One of her legs is hiked up impossibly far, hinging near his hip where his hand crushes her to him. The other leg holds her up— barely— heel raised, toes splaying for grip as she reaches higher. He’s just so big— so tall and so thick. So impossible to adequately open herself to without him fully lifting her but she wants to try so she does her best to meet his brutal pace, clinging around his neck desperately.

If his fingers had filled her entirely, his cock is almost unbearable. She relishes it, though, the way she can almost feel him in her damn throat with each and every drag. It’s mesmerizing, the way there’s no need for adjustment— for remembering. He knows her body like it’s his own and it makes her drool with pleasure.

The slapping of their skin together proves to be louder than the rush of the water, but not more so than Steve whose mouth is working over time, ladeling praises directly into her ear, soaked, stubbly chin grating deliciously against her temple.

“You look so pretty baby,” he hums, staring mesmerized at their bodies to where he slips in and out of her, “ look at you taking me so well.”

And she does.

It’s a lewd notion, the way she can see exactly where he is inside her by the way her belly ripples with his plunges, but one that makes her gasp nonetheless, spasming around him which is also visible to both of them. Loosening one of her hands from its vice grip on his shoulder, he places it on the exact spot, urging her to feel just how big he is. With every sloppy push and pull, she does feel it, and it sends her reeling.

“See that?” He rasps, and she can only nod, mouth agape enough for some of the water falling off his hair to drip into it.

She swallows it, tongue somehow so, so dry despite everything. Her nerves are on fire, everything so much slower than it should be.

The agonizing pull of his hand on hers, dragging her own fingers under his to toy with her clit.

The little circles that take hours to complete but nurture the current running through her veins regardless.

The fucking torturous in and out of his cock— taunting her, languidly pounding her for what feels like an eternity— she can’t think. She’s in the water but she feels under it, too, foggy and pent up. She just wants to cum—

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna—”

“—Stevie!”

She breaks through the sluggish pleasure into electric and all consuming waves, head falling against the wall as his hips stutter against hers, pumping once, then twice, before falling still. Each time, she clenches harder, babbling something gritty and foul and incomprehensible. Something along the lines of holy fucking shit baby but its blurred with searing, pulsing pleasure.

There’s stars behind her eyes and steam in her nose as he falls against her chest, sopping hair tickling her hypersensitive skin. Him pulling feels like what two exposed wires touching must— all sparky and hot. It’s too much.

“Mmm, careful baby,” she mumbles and he chuckles.

“Of course.”

The rest is truly a lull. Steve doesn’t bother gathering their clothes, only her, carrying her limp body to the bed and carefully setting her under the covers, dripping and all, before joining her. If she weren’t so sleepy, she would have scolded him. But she is and her eyes are refusing to stay open, let alone give him that look. It’s all she can do = to seek his warm skin once more, slithering against his body and rooting herself there.

Cauterized, or something like it.

#Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel smut #MCU smut #Avengers smut #dizzy is BACK #did you miss me?

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grapejuicestyless · 6 months

Text

What A Waste

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You and Harry swore that you would one day marry each other if you were to grow up and not already have a lover. Yet, when the time comes and the two of you are wed, Harry cannot let himself enjoy it.

ANGST

I’m standing at the alter, hands clasped together and eyes looking towards the door at the end of the aisle. Yet my hands do not shake, and my cheeks dk not ache with the pain only a genuine smile can cause. My heart does not pound out of my chest because I am not in love. The girl coming down the aisle is nothing more but a pawn in the grand scheme of things.

Maybe once, I would’ve held those feelings towards her, but our blood has since ran cold. Any fond memories tainted by our final goodbye.

She wasn’t very interesting to look at. Maybe, at least if my heart couldn’t love her, I could have something nice to look at. Something delicate, pretty. But her lips were pouty and her eyes held clouds over them. There was nothing attractive about the solemn face that hid her beauty.

When her hands hold mine, and her face is just inches from my own, I find it within myself to recite the vows I’d written for her. Carefully constructed to sound like a true loving husband, but with no true emotion that not even she, in her most oblivious state would ever have accounted for.

When she read hers, I saw her hands shaking. Her lip trembling and the furrow in her brow as she stumbled on her words. How embarrassing, how nervous she was. Acting like it was all real. Finding a way to make theater into reality.

How softly, she told me she would. Love me forever, take care of me and support me from the sidelines. Even softer, she mumbled about how even when she was riddled with arthritis, sick and tired, she would still twirl my hair the way I lived when we were children. When I kissed her, I felt nothing. When I pulled away, her smile could have fooled me. How genuinely happy she looked. But I remember the way she left me, and I remember how it could never truly be real. And I remember why I hate her, how I could never love her. Not even a little bit, not even at all.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“H?” She calls me by the nickname she gave to me when we were younger. I don’t realize that even now, twenty years later her mind had still clung to it as if it would be any importance to her anymore.

“Don’t call me that.” I’m bitter, I hate the way it sounds so sweet on her tongue. I hate the way her smile falls when I reprimand her, and most of all I hate the way I’m forever bound to her. With all the money in the world, nothing could separate us, no matter how hard I tried.

She rubs her arms, wearing her fluffy pink pajama pants and a shirt thats reads, “We think Harry had the X-Factor” so cracked, it almost doesn’t even read correctly anymore. The words die on her tongue, look at what I found? I see her enthusiasm melt away. When her eyes drift to the unmade bed and her feet start to move, I speak again.

“No.” Her confused face infuriates me. How could she not understand the justification of my cruelty.

“Your room is down the hall.” The one with the squeaky mattress and dusty floorboards. The one with photos of my old house, with the old garden and the old cats. It’s empty and the heat doesn’t work very well. But the cold from her heart wouldn’t mind it, truly.

I hate how her hair lingers on every surface. I hate how her perfume wafts into the bathroom while I shower. And now, more than all, I hate how she looks at me with rounded eyes glossed over almost too innocently.

But she is not an idiot. We both know it. Silence speaks volumes, I know she pieces together the puzzle as she walks away. The shirt hanging loosely off of her shoulder and her face hidden from my view. She never looks back. She doesn’t say goodnight.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“Do you think we’d be soulmates in another universe?” I ask, tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. The fresh England summer air hot and humid. I say it with dirt on my skin, grass stuck to my knees. I pull at the ribbons in her hair and watch how she smiles. We were only children then. Fourteen and convinced we were all grown up.

“Why not in this one?” She asked honestly, looking at me with so much truth in her eyes, I believed her. And the way her hand fit into mine, I could feel my heart pounding. And I knew then, she was the one for me. The way my body reacted, how quickly my heart pounded so violently, I thought it might burst from my chest. Too young to be kissing and too old to not think about it, we stare at each other in the wet grass in the backyard and wait for the final sunset to disappear into the horizon, my eyes looking into hers and her hand in my hair.

For a long while, I believed what she did. We were soulmates, we were bound together. Always by my side, always encouraging me. She makes shirts for my family while I start my career. She helps me rehearse my songs and her voice makes me believe that it should be her on stage, not me.

When the band is formed, and One Directions fate is sealed into greatness, I spend the last summer of normalcy singing in the fields and holding her hand like real good friends would. Her hand in my hair again, twirling it between her finger and her thumb. I want to kiss her, but the smile on her face makes me too nervous to. I think she has the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. I think she is the prettiest girl I’ll ever see.

“When we are twenty eight and not married yet, will you marry me?” She asks me in the last week of that August. It confuses me, it’s such a random age. It’s so young. But the idea of getting to be with her forever makes my cheeks flush.

“Why twenty eight? Why not forty?” She laughs, says something on how I’ll find it silly. For a girl with as much potential as her to wish for something so silly.

“I want to have a warm house with a soft bed. A dog and two cats and children. I want two boys and a girl. I want a white fence to keep them in from the street and little family trips where we can all laugh and be happy. And with all of that, I hope I am a writer still. I hope I have critically acclaimed novels and a Nobel Peace Prize.” And I don’t think her dreams are stupid. And even though her dreams are so hard to make real, the way she dreams about it out loud makes me believe it will happen to her.

When we leave the grassy field that night, I have no idea it will be the last I’ll see of her for a while. All I know is in the morning my mother has a solemn look on her face and a letter in her hand. When she sits me down to read it, all I hear beyond the violent ringing is my mother telling me she is gone. She left, only leaving behind her empty promises and a tainted memory of what I once believed to be something so pure and precious.

I don’t see the letter. Maybe if I had, I would have known it was in her father’s handwriting. And my dear Y/n hadn’t left me because the beating of her heart lost its rhythm in me, but because she was forced away into a house that would never be her home.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“God, you are a self-righteous prick.” She huffs, quickly untying the apron from her waist, letting the blue and yellow fabric fold over her hips and be discarded on the shiny tile floors. Not yet scuffed from the lack of dancing. Never truly loved. But I wouldn’t know what the difference was. I stopped learning how to love when love walked out on me.

“And you must be a victim!” She sticks out her tongue and groans, rolling her eyes and walking down the hall. The lights are dim, candles burning. It’s her own touch. She claimed she hated the big lights. The smaller ones made it much more homely. I didn’t care enough to fight her then, but as I stumble around I wish I had.

“I gave you everything! I gave you a roof to live under. All the money on the goddamn earth and all the glory! And yet you are ungrateful!” I spit at her with venom I don’t even know I possess.

“Oh my god, you don’t even know me!” She turns, and her eyes are crazy, hair wild. “My own husband doesn’t even know me!” She says it like it hurts her.

“Don’t call me that.” I tell her firmly. I try not to look at the rock on her finger, how it taunts me.

“What does it embarrass you? I hope it does. I hope all of your friends tease and taunt you for marrying the girl you never wanted, but had to have!” She laughs then, stepping closer to me, her finger in my chest.

“I will not let a loveless marriage strip me of my heart and my soul. You can hate me, but you should know better than to think you would have any power to strip me of my humanity.” She said it with such power, her voice shook with the same fierceness she felt in her bones. And yet, her anger didn’t lead me astray. For the first time in our loveless marriage, I felt a twinge of guilt for the innocent girl who I let bleed so gruesomely on the floor of our own home.

“Believe it or not, I am not the cruel witch you make me out to be. I am a woman, the same woman who loved you all those years ago. I still dream of having children and cats and a dog. A damn white picket fence! But, what a waste! Our agreement! If it could have at least given me that, or god forbid it had brought us together! I am still the same woman who loved you, and it is clear to me you are not the same man. You are bitter and I pity you because you must be so unhappy to feel the need to be that way.”

“And what else? Do you still dream of a medal in your honor for your writing? Or has that woman finally grown up to smell the roses and see that the world isn’t always built just for her.” I should’ve backed down, the moment she showed vulnerability, but for some reason I could not shut my mouth. I needed the last word.

“I outgrew those dreams the second I married you.” If my heart wasn’t shattered completely then, it had been now. And why? Over some words a girl I claimed to hate had to share?

“What a shame too. A book full of stories of us destined to the fire on our wedding night. And even if I were to write again, who would read about how you broke my heart? And how I continue to let you stomp it out until there is nothing but the dust that remains.” When she leaves, her dress sways behind her. She’s wearing my sweatshirt and she has the same white ribbons in her hair she had all those years ago. She never really did lie to me, did she.

She was only a girl. Ribbons tied into her hair and a white dress with lace so frilly, it resembled her wedding dress. A dress I never appreciated. I wondered if I looked into the old box of photos of the day we were destined for failure, if I would find any photos of her in all her innocence. Or, if that same smile she greeted me with before she knew me would be tainted with the same hate I bred inside of her through my own negligence.

I regret every feeling I’d ever felt towards her. How I called her plain, uninteresting, unlikable. The realization of this guilt hits so hard, it is undeniable. I feel this way because I have succeeded. I have crushed the heart of a girl who continued to love me through my greed. And I know I have succeeded through the look in her eyes and the frown lines by her lips. The lines that once represented deep smiles gone in an instant.

She only solidifies what I know when I see her suitcase by the door. Practically empty, nothing in this house is truly hers. She has gone from one loveless house to another, not yet finding her home. Not yet living her dream.

“You don’t need to divorce me, but I can’t stay. Not now. Not when I still love you. I can’t come back until every piece of you is gone. Maybe then, your insults won’t hurt so much, and we could get along.” She smiles softly, but it’s so fake it hurts my heart.

I don’t stop her, but I wish I had. This house isn’t a home without her. If I could change it, I would. I still loved her, and thats what makes it all sting so much more. The tormenting, the pain and the tears. All a result of two soulmates bound to be together, yet one of them refused to let it happen.

I hope she’ll come back soon. Sooner than last time. And I hope her heart still yearns for me. I’ll propose to her for real this time, not just under circumstance. And when she walks down the aisle, I’ll shake just as badly as she did the first time. And we can laugh about our experience in our first try at rekindling our flame, and we can finally have a house with a fence and two boys and a girl, a dog and two cats. And she can write about how wonderful her life is and win every award there is to win. And I will stand beside her like a good husband because I love her.

I will spend each hour she is gone wishing for her to come back. For the ache to ease itself. And what a waste. If only I could write a good song about it without ranting and going off into small tangents. If only I could’ve done it right. If only it could have brought us together.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #yn x harrystyles #fine line harry styles #hslot23 #harry styles #harry's house album

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