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saerins · 4 months

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⋆୨ chapter three ୧˚ for a while, you were all mine

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter two - a million miles away, still you connect me in your way <> next: chapter four - behind a box of reasons why ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 6.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, yn and sae finally sharing one bed | notes: eeep this was long i’m sorry !! more of the other girl here heh ^_< also mwah thank you to all of you who’s reading ily !! <3

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t right of you to go through your husband’s stuff. Maybe you should’ve just looked at that little black box and left it there and continue to be ignorant.

But no. In this world, you’re nosy and greedy and you wanted to know who exactly it is that Itoshi Sae of all people can’t get over and now you have exactly what you were looking for.

After extensive research—and by research you mean scrolling through your husband’s social media (all of them), you managed to find her tagged in a post buried way below on his Facebook wall. Silver lining is: there’s nothing recent. The bad part? Judging by the date, they’ve known each other for a long time.

Apparently her name is Mirin, and her family’s made up of a whole slew of top lawyers in the whole of Japan. There’s not a lot on her Facebook, but her Instagram is a whole other story. Her posts the last few years put her somewhere in Europe, and judging by the content, she’s been studying there for a while. But before that, back when the posts were all in Japan, you catch a few photos of Sae. Some of them have Oliver and Eita, and a couple of other guys you haven’t met before.

It’s really wrong of you to do this, only because you know you’re just setting yourself up for a world of paranoia, but you can’t stop. You move over to the pictures she’s tagged in, and there’s one from Oliver that catches your attention.

Because it’s dated a few weeks back.

The first of two photos show Oliver, Eita, Sae and the same guy you saw back in Mirin’s feed—the one with jet black spiky hair. They’re in a bar, you presume, sitting around a private booth with a ton of alcohol in the ice bucket on the table. You recognise his attire; it’s from the very first night Sae bothered to sit down at the dining table and eat with you.

The second makes your heart crash to the floor. In the photo, in Sae’s place is Mirin herself, looking drop-dead gorgeous in a skin-tight red dress that you wouldn’t ever think of wearing. (One, because it’s much too revealing for your own taste, and two, well, just because you’re more of an oversized t-shirt kind of girl.)

All you can take away from what you saw is that Mirin is now back in Japan. Coupled with the fact that Sae had been gone even though he was off from work for those first few days of your marriage, you deduce what you wish isn’t true—was he meeting up with her all this time? Even

Trying to avoid falling into utter madness, you grab your phone and text your ever-trusty best friend.

Reo, meet you at our usual. ASAP!!!

Just as you’re about to leave the house, Sae gets back from wherever he’s been (which now you can’t help but wonder whether he was meeting Mirin), and you run right into his chest.

“Careful, busy?” Sae asks, which is more than Sae usually does and you realise just how low the bar is set right now.

Still, you answer him like you always do. “Yeah I’m gonna meet Reo for a bit,” you tell him, biting back a snarky comment about Mirin.

Even with those doubts of Sae in your head, you can’t help but stop to appreciate how he hands you your keys from the key hanger before you forget, or how his other hand is gripping onto yours, warm and just slightly calloused. It’s the first time you’ve felt them since that day at your own wedding.

“Take your time, I’ll handle our dinner tonight,” he tells you, and you think that’s already a lot considering that he’s never really bothered with anything the past few weeks, but then you feel a soft sensation against your forehead—very brief, so unfamiliar, way too soft—and then it’s gone in just a second and it’s way too quick that it has you doubting its existence at all.

All you hear is a soft “see you” before the door shuts behind you, and then there’s only the erratic beating of your heart that fills your ears.

“Yikes.”

“Very helpful, thanks,” you sigh exasperatedly as you plop down onto the cushioned seat across from Reo.

Reo laughs, handing you your phone back, open to Oliver’s Instagram account. “Then ask for a divorce, I’m sure he’d happily oblige if all of that’s true.”

“You know why I can’t, Reo,” you remind him, close to giving up.

Reo nods, remembering about your parents and deciding not to make matters worse. “Did you ask him about it though?”

You frown, glaring up at your best friend who’s now happily sipping on his cold brew. “And let him guess that I was stalking his ex? Sure I did.”

Reo snorts at your sarcasm. He thinks it’s funny how you’re oddly meek in front of Sae, and yet you’re snappish around him. Comes with the many years of being best friends, he supposes. But on that note, “you think there’s something going on between them?”

For the first time, Reo sees you helpless, eyes staring into nothing, index finger idly tracing circles on the polished wooden surface. “I don’t know,” because all you know is that you’re already exhausted from overthinking all the things they could be doing behind your back. “But… he’s always away and he says it’s work when I know it’s not. And she’s back and they were at the same place and urgh, I don’t know what to do.”

By that last line, you’re already burying your head in your hands, slumped against the table, Reo watching on as you grumble in frustration. He chuckles, gently patting your head before you look up at him, “what if they’re just friends right now?”

“It’s still weird, isn’t it? I mean… from the looks of it, they were pretty serious at one point.” Your words are all muffled because you’re pretty sure this is you being jealous now—thanks to Sae considerably warming up to you (be it at his own sluggish pace), it’s hard not to feel anything for him. In a way, you’re learning to like a lot about him, but there’s this unshakeable doubt you can’t brush off in the form of his ex.

Reo leans back against his chair now, pondering out loud. “Hmm I wonder what that reminds me of.”

In a second, you know all too well what he’s referring to, and you find yourself unable to look him in the eye. “That’s… different. We didn’t act on it.”

He rests his elbow on the table, head resting against his fist, “yeah but… we were still each other’s first kiss, right?”

“But we didn’t amount to anything.”

“Except that we’re best friends now,” Reo tells you, and you know he’s trying to get a point across but you’re not sure you want to understand it.

“And that’s all we ever were, Reo.”

Smiling, Reo leans forward a little, cautious at keeping his voice down. It won’t do if people misunderstand and word gets around. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but you were all I wanted at one point. For more than just that one day under the cherry blossoms, more than that one time I stole your first kiss.”

It stuns you a little to hear it, because any romantic emotions between the two of you were never said or shared. Both you and Reo knew back then that your parents wouldn’t ever be in favour of him and his rebelliousness that you both just decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. At that time, when you were both foolish kids, having that something intangible was enough. Maybe it faded for you faster than it had for Reo, but he knew that it once existed. Even if only for a second.

“And?”

You’ve gone soft now, and Reo knows you understand. You’re just in denial.

“Are you sure Sae would feel the same if he knew about it? If he knew I used to love you too?” Reo asks you, genuinely wondering for himself.

You’re about to argue that Sae doesn’t even care, but putting yourself into his shoes, you get where Reo’s coming from. History is history. No matter how long ago it was or how short the relationship (or lack of one) was, the feelings still existed, once upon a time.

Still, you have a feeling that there’s more than meets the eye. Especially if Sae has to hide it all the time. He’s never even said her name to you, if they met at all.

“Anyway look, do you want me to try asking Oliver about it? I’ll be discreet, though I can’t really say the same for that knucklehead,” Reo warns you. It’s not like he knows Oliver much outside of any business dealings, but he can tell that much at least.

You shake your head anyway, knowing it’s a bad idea. For all you know, Sae would just lash out at you for prying into his business when you’re just his on-paper wife.

“Wonder why they broke up though,” you think out loud, watching the liquid in your cup swish around, close to spilling off the edge as you swirl it with your hand, almost completely lost in thought.

Reo answers you without missing a beat. “She went abroad to study and just called it off thinking it wouldn’t work.” His eyes go wide the moment your head shoots up, and he winces after letting it slip.

“You knew?”

“Yeah…”

“What the- how?” Because it’s incredulous how Reo happens to know that much more about the relationship.

He sighs, fessing up. “I was asking around about Sae remember? When I told you he’s just a tough nut to—”

“Yeah yeah,” you wave it off, wanting him to get to the point.

“Well, Oliver’s kinda a blabbermouth so…” Reo sighs, as if he senses there’s no point in keeping it in, not when you’re already halfway into that rabbit hole yourself.

And you’re all ears. Half because you really just want to learn more about it and the other half just wanting confirmation that you’re not crazy for overthinking about this. But then Reo tells you and you’re not sure anymore.

“He said Sae was never over her, loved her to bits.” Reo pauses, hesitating before he opens his mouth again. “He said Sae was waiting for her to get back before starting things up again.”

Oh.

SEVEN YEARS AGO.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

Surely it wasn’t a stretch to be furious that distance would be enough of a reason for a breakup? Surely Sae didn’t have to think himself crazy for refuting such an idea?

Mirin’s hair flowed in the wind, pretty as it always was, and it would be even prettier in his memories. She looked unsure, and he knew it too. He knew her like the back of his hand, down to the injury on his ankle. She was only doing what she thought was right, and that was offering each of their own freedom, though Sae had no single doubt in his mind that that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Sae, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” she told him, her eyes swimming with tears that she wouldn’t allow to overflow.

Always so stubborn, and forever thinking less of herself. That was how he knew her to be. And as much as he hated that stubbornness at that moment, he loved her just as much.

With a hand reaching out to her, he pulled her to him, letting her rest her head in his chest, something that he savoured because it wouldn’t be long until she’ll be gone for who knows how long.

“Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want to break up with you?” Sae was asking her, genuinely. He didn’t know how to handle this—when life held different paths for two people in love, wasn’t it just common sense that they could still tread it and yet be together? Was long distance really the end of everything they had?

Mirin sniffled just a little before she pulled away and forced herself to smile, something that Sae hated. It was always the fake ones that irked him, even now.

“Is it selfish for me to think that we’re supposed to?”

Maybe he didn’t know the answer. But all he knew was that if she still felt like they should, then he’d concede. He was always weak when it came to her. It was always the same. He couldn’t imagine being weak to anyone else. It was her. Only her.

“Fine, we’ll do that, if that’s what you want,” he told her, a tone so gentle that no one but her has ever heard. But he drew close, tipping her chin up so she would look at him, his teal eyes appreciating every inch of her beautiful face, the most beautiful one he had ever seen, and the most beautiful one he thought he would ever see. “But you know something?”

Mirin swallowed the lump in her throat, the amount of love she felt threatening to swallow her whole. “What?”

Sae let out a deep chuckle, a soft one before he pressed his lips against hers, a promise laid between their lips like it was a secret only they both would keep.

“Nothing would stop me from waiting for you to come back. So come back to me, okay? Come back, I’ll wait for you.”

That night when you get home, you feel just slightly numb. After hearing what you did, it’s no surprise. You’ve always been kind of weak when it comes to feelings. You’re more heart over mind and you’d choose your heart over and over again even if you had no more blood left to bleed.

You think you’re never getting over it until you walk in and realise that Sae’s in the kitchen, setting your dinner down on the table. It’s like your tears automatically dissipate once you look into his eyes.

“Oh, just nice,” is all he mumbles before he sits down at his place on the entirely too-big dining table for the two of you.

Across from him, you sit down as you look at the spread before you. A steak on each of your plates, potato puree at the side. In the middle there’s assorted sides of mushrooms, corn kernels and what you assume to be a tray of sauces for the meat.

“Did you cook all of these?” You ask, almost breathless. You’re about to say he’s a much better cook than you are, until Sae speaks up.

“No.” He seems nearly unwilling to answer you, a delicate frown on his face. “Accidentally burnt the pans when I tried to cook.”

“Huh?” You spin your head around to find the sink filled with all your pans, and from the looks of it, Sae had been trying to scrub the burnt portions off unsuccessfully.

“We need to buy new pans.”

Sae says this all too monotonously, like he’s half-robot and half completely embarrassed, that you can’t help but laugh out loud. Besides, it’s kind of cute that there’s a faint pink on his cheeks. You’ve never seen that before.

He looks at you incredulously, like he wasn’t expecting you to laugh at him like he’s a damn clown. Flinging a mushroom at you with his fork, he rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he groans.

Pouting at him mockingly, you decide to tease him a little more. “You didn’t touch anything else in the house and ruin them, did you?”

And you were joking, until you realise Sae’s averting his gaze, stuffing his mouth full with corn kernels.

“Sae!”

“We might need to get new stuff for the laundry room too,” he confesses, talking with his mouth full. (Spoiler: you find out later that he put the wrong detergents in the washer and accidentally flooded the laundry room.)

Still, you think it’s sort of endearing that he tried to do the chores while you were the one out for a change, so you stop yourself from making fun of him too much. It’s not like whatever you learned earlier isn’t still sitting in the back of your head (because a part of you wonders if he’s doing all this out of guilt), but some part of you wants to be selfish and let yourself feel special, even if it’s delusional, at least for a little bit.

You want to feel like the wife he misses when you’re not around, like the person he would think of when his mind strays. Is this all too much to ask?

Maybe you just can’t help yourself, so you bring yourself to ask: “Sae, why did you agree to this?”

There’s a pregnant pause in the room, the only sounds filling the silence being the stainless steel cutlery hitting the plates as Sae adjusts himself. “Why did you?”

You suppose that maybe it’ll be easier for him to share if you start first, so you bite the bait. “Long story but… if I don’t then it’ll fall to my sister and she’s happy with someone else.” You swallow the meat in your mouth, the fat rendered so well it makes you crave for more. “I don’t want her to have to sacrifice that. Our parents aren’t exactly the nicest people in the world.”

Sae listens to you, an understanding settling in his chest. He could laugh from the coincidence of it all. “Same, but for my brother,” he tells you, prodding at his steak. “And he’s happy with soccer, not some girl. Can’t get a girl to save his life.”

Somehow, you can hear the quiet fondness that he has for Rin that makes you believe he’s a good brother.

“Would a marriage affect his career all that much?”

There’s a certain complexity behind Sae’s expression when you ask that question, something that you can’t decipher. But he scoffs, “let’s just say, my parents aren’t the nicest people either. I would know.”

And something tells you that it’s not something you want to ask yet, so you let his answer sit with you.

“Oh, speaking of parents,” Sae brings up his phone, switching the subject and handing it over to you. It’s a string of texts between him and his mother, apparently. You hold it up to your face, reading through and it appears they’d gotten you both tickets. “Mine got us both tickets, so.”

As you scroll, a grin appears on your face as you look at him. “Honeymoon tickets to Korea?” You’re almost squealing. It’s been a long while since you’ve last had a vacation, and ten days of distraction sounds really nice after all the information you’d just learned today.

Sae rolls his eyes, though you don’t miss the slight tug upwards at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, so get packing, we leave in two days.”

And as excited as you are, you feel a vibration and the brief flash of ‘dummy’ messaging him, the only part of the preview that you can see being: no, take me with you :(

You’re pretty sure it vibrates some more but by then, you’re already handing the phone back and Sae just locks his phone without bothering. Shaking your head, you try to stuff that image back to the deepest crevices of your mind, determined to not let it ruin your mood for your getaway.

Ex lover or not, Sae is still your husband and it’s not like he hates this (by the looks of things, it’s only been getting better and better), so you’re still hell bent on making things work.

Two days fly by way too quickly.

The day after Sae tells you about the trip, you immediately get to work at packing. Ten days is not a short trip and you plan to make full use of it, and for that, you have to be ready.

You had spent the whole day buying anything you would need—travel-friendly items and whatnot—while commuting back home to your parents’ house (at a timing you know they’re at work, of course!) to take anything you might’ve left there that you needed. Just as you left the house, nostalgia took over as you looked around at the place where you grew up.

It’s strange. People say to cherish what time you have with your parents, that one day you’re going to move out and you’re going to miss it.

You don’t feel like that’s necessarily true, because you’re living proof. The only thing you’d miss is your sister and you still talk to her everyday. Meanwhile, the only times your mother or father ever talks to you is to ask you about your marriage and warning you not to annoy Sae too much, as though it was a given and that it shouldn’t be the other way around.

Maybe it doesn’t make much sense; you and Sae (or maybe just you) trying to be a family when you both have no idea what a proper family is like. Even if it is just on paper.

Now you’re on a town car to the airport and you’re fiddling with your passport in your hands, staring out the window like a little child that’s going overseas for the first time. (Next to you, Sae’s thinking the exact same thing—you do look so much like an excited child. Or maybe a puppy.)

Of course, Sae’s parents waste no expenses in gifting you two first-class seats. Not that you’ve never been in first class, but it’s nice to be next to Sae, and you catch yourself, realising just how quickly you’re catching feelings.

“What?” Sae’s just getting ready to turn his phone to flight-safe mode when he catches you staring, a hint of smugness forming inside of him.

Even with a small partition separating your seats, you can see his teal eyes staring at you, long lashes fluttering in all its glory. Instead of offering an answer, you just shake your head and lean back, busying yourself by adjusting the screen in front of you.

Being in a state of denial is easy; it’s actually fun to sit in first class next to Sae, on a three-hour flight to your honeymoon, annoying him each chance you get, earning yourself a death stare every instant before laughing yourself silly when he flips off at you. It’s been a few weeks, but you think you’ve grown accustomed to what Sae is like that you know his middle fingers to you are never meant to be taken seriously and his silence is just how he is when he isn’t fully opened up. It nearly makes you think you’re crazy for doubting him and yet you don’t have the balls to question him about any of that. Not yet, because you’re not ready for this to end (if it will).

The itinerary had already been planned out by Sae’s mother, but it wasn’t like either of you wanted to follow it. One, Sae likes to do things spontaneously anyway and two, well, you have a feeling that he might want to treat this like a solo trip. It’s not like either of you have properly been husband and wife much to have a proper honeymoon together.

So count you surprised when you suggested that you both try to do solo trips around the city and just meet up for dinner, only to have Sae agree and yet follow you wherever you decide to go that first day.

At first, you were just wondering whether he had the same plans, but after he followed you into a Sephora looking absolutely clueless and then getting all flustered and sticking to you the moment the staff there asked him if he wanted to do a skin test, you allow yourself to think that he’s actually tagging along with you.

“What are you doing?” You decide to ask after exiting another store, carrying no less than five bags thanks to your anxiety of asking Sae what he’s up to.

On his part, he merely shrugs and looks away, hands in his coat pocket, looking absolutely like a model out of a magazine. Sometimes you wonder if he’s really yours. On paper, at least.

“This is our honeymoon, right? Makes sense that we’re together.” That’s all the explanation Sae offers, his gaze hovering over the bags you’re carrying, before he leans closer. “Besides, you’re my wife,” he says, gently grabbing your bags and carrying it for you.

He doesn’t say that it’s just on paper this time. And you can’t help but read into it. It’s perplexing how easily his words can affect you. It has your heart doing somersaults and your lips nervously pursing together.

“So, where next?” He prompts, looking at you expectantly.

And maybe you’re a little too excited for this pleasant turn of events that you’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at him. “Wait, really?”

You can’t even hide the glee in your voice and Sae, for the first time, smiles—even if he’s doing it as he rolls his eyes at you.

“Yes, stupid,” he tells you, chuckling as you hop slightly in excited. “Are we going or are you just gonna stand here like a little puppy?”

With excited nods and a little squeal, you clap your hands together before daring to put your fingers around his wrist, dragging him with you.

Sae follows quietly behind you, staring at you as you happily tread ahead, your hands warm and guarding his against the slightly chilly air, hair flowing in the wind and he suddenly thinks you’re even prettier than he first thought you were. And then he starts thinking that maybe this part of his life that’s planned by his parents isn’t so bad after all.

Though, when you get back to the hotel, you find out that Sae has already specially asked for two separate beds, to the surprise of all the hotel staff, because of course, Mrs Itoshi had booked the honeymoon suite for the both of you. Special requests for that room usually mean flowers on the bed, or breakfast just the way they like it—not for the groom of all people to be asking for a separate bed altogether, especially when he insists there is no additional person.

“I’ll sleep out here,” Sae tells you the moment you get back to the hotel that night, gesturing to the bed set up by the television, much to your bummer. But you suppose you can’t expect too much—hand holding was already a miracle in itself.

“Oh yeah, sure,” you shrug it off, like it doesn’t even matter. Deep down you feel like a rock was dropped from your throat to the bottom of your stomach, forming a gaping hole in your heart along the way that you tried to will into non-existence.

Still, somehow, despite this little obstacle, you find yourself optimistic after being witness to Sae’s change in demeanour.

“Hey, Y/N?”

When you turn around, you see a hint of hesitation flicker across his teal eyes before he shakes his head, brushing it off.

“It’s nothing, goodnight.”

Although you’re curious, you decide not to press him about it. Offering a small smile, you nod.

“Goodnight, Sae.”

Over the course of your entire honeymoon, you find that you shouldn’t be chiding yourself for being delusional in the first place.

For once in this one-sided love affair, you feel like perhaps it’s not so one-sided at all. Because from what you’ve learned about Sae in your close-to-minimal time together, he isn’t someone that you can force into doing anything he doesn’t want to. At least when it comes to mundane activities which includes trips. (Unless you’re his parents who you have no doubt in your mind probably mirrors your own and have their ways of controlling him, per se.)

But it’s hard to think he doesn’t want to do any of this with you when he’s so compliant. He follows your bucket list of things to do and doesn’t complain once. He lets you drag him to the palace and looks only slightly concerned when you tell him you want to “do the thing where we can dress up like royalty and take pictures” but he only sighs and concedes within seconds.

When he comes out of the room looking like the most handsome prince you’d ever met, you’re too shy to meet his gaze but he tilts your head up to look at him for most of the shots anyway. With his face so close to yours, with these kinds of small gestures which he willingly initiates, you begin to wonder if it’s possible to make him happy in this possibly loveless marriage.

Spending ten days together, surrounded by just each other and doing things that couples do; it nearly makes you feel as if this is real. Like Sae really loves you and that he had asked you to marry him one day out of the blue because of it. Nothing like how you felt that first time you met him, in your dressing room minutes before you were about to become husband and wife, being talked down to and told that this was a facade and could be nothing more.

Now he’s here with you, sticking close and following you around, entertaining your requests for activities, falling asleep on your shoulder when you were on the plane to Jeju, and sometimes he absentmindedly holds your hand like he’s used to it. He helps you with your luggage always, and he makes sure you get food whenever your stomach starts growling, and he’s more observant than you give him credit for because he starts picking the radish off your plate without you asking.

Your album’s suddenly filled with pictures of you and Sae and you were hesitant at first but dragging him to the amusement park when he wasn’t for it at first was a good decision; for a while, you get to see what he’s like when all the downturned lines on his face reverse, when he looks the most like an actual guy in his mid-twenties, enjoying life instead of brooding all the time. Thanks to that, your pictures are more both of you smiling or being goofy together instead of faceless pictures because neither of you feel like showing your faces at all.

By the time your honeymoon is about to come to an end, you find that maybe there’s hope for this after all. That maybe you’d just been overthinking everything prior to this and it shouldn’t be worth worrying over after the trip ends.

But you find that hope can be flimsy sometimes.

On the seventh night there, you and Sae are both on your bed, in the actual bedroom, fighting (not literally) over a multiplayer game. Just two adults hunched over one phone playing frustrating games meant for kids. (Somehow it makes you feel like perhaps neither of you ever had a normal childhood and this is something to make up for it.) It’s all fun and games until you see a throng of message notifications from dummy mixed in with several from what you presume to be Sae’s group chat with the guys.

And you can keep pretending like it doesn’t matter, except Sae immediately stops after the current round and tells you he has to take a call. And you already know more or less who he’s going to talk to. And just like that, you feel like you’re back to square one all over again.

The subsequent nights (and days) aren’t easy for you either. After just giving up on thinking and forcing yourself to sleep that night, you’d been stuck with paranoia everyday. Especially when you realise that he’s starting to take calls every night outside on the balcony where he’s sure you’re out of earshot.

You wonder if he’s being lovey dovey with her outside when he talks to her. You wonder if he imagines you as her when you’re out together. You wonder if he wishes you were her. You wonder if all this is just a gimmick; a test run for when he does the actual things with the actual girl he wants to do them with.

Safe to say, by your last night there, you’re a mess. The moment you get back from trying to be happy all day (which was a disaster because you wouldn’t stop trying to minimise contact with Sae), you tell him you’re too tired and that you’ll just go ahead and go to bed.

Which, of course, is code for ‘you just want to lie in bed and cry all night’.

Sae couldn’t even get a word out before you shut the door on him, plopping down onto the bed and crying into your pillow. Maybe holding everything in was a bad idea. Now you’re bursting with emotions and you try to call Reo a few minutes later but you can’t even get him because he’s busy somehow and you’re positive that the gods hate you right now.

There is one thing about being on rock bottom that you like, though; at least you know how you feel. You’re exhausted and upset and envious because you wish you could be that person for your husband. But you keep getting reminded that you’re not. That somehow you’re just a mere stand-in until he marries his real wife next time. The one he promised to love forever. (Technically, he vowed that to you on your wedding day too, but that’s not the same and you know it.)

Deciding to shut off your phone and have this time to yourself to cry your eyes out, you miss the sudden swarm of notifications that come in. And thanks to you stuffing your head into the pillow, you don’t notice Sae opening the door and peeking inside, an unfamiliar feeling settling inside him at the sound of you sobbing.

He gently closes the door behind him as he walks to you, your back turned to him, your hands and feet hanging onto the bolster like a koala to a branch. Slowly, he saunters over to you, almost like he’s afraid to. When his hand rests on your shoulder and he sinks into the mattress beside you, you stiffen up for just a moment before spinning around and sobbing into his chest instead.

You didn’t expect him to even enter your room at all, much less let you stain his shirt or hold you close when you’re being emotional like this, but he stays there, hand gently rubbing your arm, up and down, a gentle kiss placed on the top of your head. It makes you wonder what kind of games he’s playing. Is this Sae not being able to make up his mind and that’s why he’s still so nice to you even when he has his old flame in the back of his head?

“Do you… want me to leave you alone?” He asks, though you can argue it’s kind of a stupid question but then you realise he probably doesn’t know much about actual relationships so you let it slide.

You shake your head in response, deciding that as stupid as it all sounds, you want to throw your hat in the ring. You’ve fallen for him, and you want him for yourself.

And maybe it’s wrong of you to project this on him, but your absence of a normal family where a home is not just a house and where parents shower their children with actual love and concern makes you yearn for one yourself. And maybe it’s not a great idea to want that from a man you married from being forced to, but thanks to this honeymoon you can see that there’s a flicker of spark there.

That Sae’s not emotionless and he’s definitely not cold to you. Not anymore. That if you guys had been given more time instead of being rushed into things by your parents then maybe the whole wedding could’ve gone without any of the hitches you experienced. That every single radish he picked off your plate, every picture he took with you, every time he held your hand, every time he pulled you close—none of that was manufactured, was it?

So isn’t it possible for you to be happy with him? So is it still foolish or selfish of you to want to be with him?

Is it too much if you ask him about it?

“Hey, Sae?” Your voice is soft and timid and more vulnerable than you’ve ever shown, but he hears you loud and clear, his “hm?” resounding against his chest, right next to your ear. “Can you stay?”

A few seconds of pause, and he replies, “of course.”

You shake your head slightly. “I don’t mean that. I mean, you know, what we said on our wedding day.” Your voice is entirely muffled, still Sae understands.

There’s an even longer pause this time, and you think that Sae’s just thinking of a way to get out of this until you hear him speak up again.

“Idiot,” he chides, but you can hear the soft affection in his voice. Suddenly, you feel his pinky wrapping around your own, and he holds it near your face. “I promise you,” he whispers, and you wish you could see the expression on his face, “I’ll stay.”

It might be wishful thinking but you think he really means it.

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp @saharei @danibxe @lectris00 @comet-kun @ishitam67 @gskill @sweet2wthsblog *bolded: can’t tag you due to your settings >_<

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #sae x you #itoshi sae x you #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae #blue lock #૪ aeri’s fics !

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canonicallyobserving911 · 2 months

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Buck & Eddie: "Is she staying in the picture?"... because Buck's not going anywhere!

In a recent article, RG was asked about M and his response was:

His response was similar to all his other answers regarding the status of Eddie's "relationship" with M or the lack thereof which could mean they will not be doing whatever they are or were attempting to do for long.

Also, as I included in a previous post (linked here), the colors of the t-shirt and hoodie Chris wore in 6x18 when Eddie was talking on the phone with M, illustrated something different than what he said about "Why is he so bad at this?" It showed that Chris is not ok with Eddie dating her, probably since he doesn't know her.

When asked what Chris thinks of Eddie's relationships, RG responded...

I've also stated in other posts that whoever Eddie dates, they have to love both him and Chris and so far, the only person who fits that description is Buck!

Let's talk about M shall we?

In season 6, before 6x17 aired, I included in a post (linked here) that Eddie saw the way M looked at her brother in 6x5 with raised eyebrows and he witnessed the same thing the audience did... a sibling relationship that reminded him of that "Folgers TV commercial" from the 1980s. Also, reminder, most viewers didn't even remember who she was and based on several comments that were posted on social media both after the episode aired and recently, a lot of them still don't. Additionally, she doesn't have a last name (neither does Connor and Kameron but I'll elaborate on that in another post) so that illustrates how much the show cares about her character.

In this post, I'm elaborating more on the previous one and I'm taking things one step further by looking at the totality of Eddie's interactions with her in S6 and providing my opinion at the end.

In 6x5, when the 118 arrived at M's home, Eddie didn't really even look at her, so it was interesting to see him do a double take later in the season.

After they freed her brother from her attic, they put him in the ambulance and she rode with them to the hospital. This is the scene where Eddie peeped the fact that she might be in love with her brother and the looks on Eddie's and Chimney's faces were priceless. It's also the scene that prompted many comments from the audience about M's interaction with her brother.

Later, in the same episode, Buck and Eddie returned with some additional firefighters (???) to help her repair her ceiling but please look at Eddie, he's wearing shades but IT WAS CLOUDY, THEREFORE THE SUN WAS NOT SHINING. Why was he wearing them when no one else was? Also, he arrived with Buck and they were looking at each other the same way they always do with Buck looking over his shoulder at Eddie (post linked here).

In 6x17, when he saw her at the hardware store, he was there looking for something for Chris the same way he had been the last two times with SD and AF instead of him looking for something for himself (post linked here).

In 4x13, Carla told him, "BE SURE YOU'RE FOLLOWING YOUR HEART AND NOT CHRISTOPHER'S, OK!" But it was more than two years later and he was still searching for the person who loves both him and Chris even though he was right in front of him. That person is Buck.

In 6x18, when he was thinking about texting her, the scene where he got her number was never shown and viewers were trying to figure out when it happened. Reminder, in 6x5 Buck was there too and if he had gotten her number then, Buck would have said something when they were at the cemetery in 6x15 but he didn't.

Later, when he finally did call, he said, "It's Eddie from the hardware store" and the reason he said it like that was because he told Buck in 6x15 that it never works out with someone they meet on a call. Well, Eddie in fact did meet her on a call which means their relationship or whatever... is/was DOOMED from the start just like Buck's was with N.

Now I have many thoughts about his interactions with M but I'll share the one I believe is the most relevant and the most important. When Eddie first met her, he didn't even notice her and later during the ambulance ride, he SAW the way she interacted with her brother, hence his raised eyebrows. Both him and Chimney were like WTF is this? And the audience felt the same way when we saw it too.

M is not memorable and most people had completely forgotten about her and the episode she first appeared in which I think was the point that was being made by 9-1-1. Nothing had changed about her from 6x5 to 6x17 so what exactly did he SEE months later that he didn't see before?

IMO, when Eddie saw her in 6x17, based solely on what he saw in 6x5 (the way she acted with her brother), he may have thought asking her out wouldn't be a big deal and it wouldn't go anywhere so he didn't have to worry about them getting too serious. And, the double take he did later in 6x17 when he bumped into her at the hardware store kind of proves it. Also, since he told Buck while they were at the cemetery, "Really? Dating someone you rescued? You know that never ends well!"; it appears they both knew that to be true but for whatever reason, they attempted to date M and N anyway (I have thoughts about this too and they're related to their conversation and other things that happened during season 6).

The point of this post is to highlight the possibility that Eddie knew going in with M that it wouldn't get too serious and it would end quickly. Now some people have created a whole life for Eddie and M even though he's only known her for a few weeks or a couple of months tops (depending on the time jump which is practically nonexistent). Please understand Eddie's number one priority is Chris and his number two is Buck, therefore M is so far down on the totem pole that anything she suggests about his son, his Buck, his job or his life would be laughed at by Eddie and viewers too and RG's comment about "if she's in the picture" kind of proves that point.

Let's talk about Buck, the love of Eddie's life shall we?

Eddie's relationship with Buck is a once in a lifetime, love of their lives, soulmate type of love that transcends space and time. I've said it numerous times (linked here) and I'll continue to say and scream it because they're in love with each other and NO ONE (no random love interest or hookup) will ever be able to give them what they've continued to share with each other for the past five years. Buck's definition of love in 5x18 described everything he already has with Eddie and Eddie putting Buck in his will as Chris' legal guardian was the second time he gave him his heart. Buck gave Eddie his heart too in 5x14.

In RG's most recent interview, he confirmed Eddie loves Buck and not only does he love him, he said, "I love you to the core!"

If that's not a soulmate, love of my life type of love then, I don't know what is.

Reminder, not only is M not in the picture, she's also NOT EVEN IN THE HOUSE. Even though AF stayed at Eddie's house during the blackout, he broke up with her after Buck told him he should🤪😜. Then he went home and told AF, "Maybe you should go home first" (I still LOL at that moment to this day). I wonder what he's going to say to M? Something like "Maybe you should go back to the hardware store." I know he won't but if he did, it would be EPIC.

They're in love your honor!

Anyway, please remember Buck's not only been in the house but Eddie's home is his home too because Buck's not a guest there (post linked here).

Buck and Eddie have keys to each other's places (they've had them for years).

Furthermore, Eddie's couch is Buck's couch too and he's slept on it many times.

He's everything Eddie's been searching for in a partner and all he's been waiting for is for Buck to get it.

Will Buck finally realize Eddie gave him his heart years ago or will it be more wash, rinse and repeat scenes with both of them "looking for love in all the wrong places with too many faces?" (It's a song lyric.)

From the way OS talks about how much Buck loves Eddie and the way RG talks about how Eddie loves Buck, maybe, just maybe Season 7 will be the one that they finally go CANON but only the showrunner, writers and producers know if they will.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #911 season 7 #911 season 7 speculation #911 on abc #911 abc #911 meta #911 spoilers #911 speculation #ryan guzman #oliver stark #anti marisol

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blainesebastian · 1 year

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sticks & stones

words: 2,546 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “ Austin launches his relationship with his girlfriend, she has a few thousand followers on IG and will post lots of selfies/risque photos and everyone’s tearing her down saying she’s too slutty/Austin is to classy for her?” warnings: none notes: thanks for reading!! slightly different from request. will re-open my requests after i finish this next fic i’m working on :) thanks everyone! tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

You've always been pretty liberal with posting photos of yourself. Your mother has this saying that she got from these old-timey song lyrics that goes 'accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative'—and it kinda just boils down to that for you? You appreciate a lot about your looks, your body, not in a completely conceded way, but in admiration. Too many women in your opinion aren’t fond with their looks or find something wrong with themselves, that's human, and you definitely have those moments. But you've also worked very hard to love yourself, every part of you. Your body supports you, nourishes you, is your home. Not that you post for anyone other than yourself? but you can't remember a time when anyone's ever had a problem with you either.

At least not until recently.

It comes and goes in waves ever since you started dating Austin—it never ceases to amaze you the audacity some people have online, how they're incredibly bold to strangers just because you so happen to be dating someone specific. You melt it all down to jealousy, you quell down the voices in the back of your mind that start to agree with terrible comments you've read and ignore it because what's the point?

You talk yourself out of it bothering you—until you can't.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, you doom scroll as your other hand holds a cup of matcha tea. You take a sip every so often but you're not really paying attention to anything other than the commentary on these candid photos that have been posted. You went to this Italian restaurant for dinner with Austin and his sister to celebrate her birthday and you're wearing a stunning navy-blue dress. It's got an open back, thin gold chains holding it together. The front is high-neck and you paired it with strappy gold heels and…really you've worn this dress around your own family and have gotten so many compliments. There's nothing wrong with it?

If you allow yourself to dive into the black hole of what's 'appropriate' for a woman to wear to dinner, you might not ever return. It'll never change the fact that people have strong opinions on absolutely everything and they somehow deem to apply it to you, what you want to wear, or how you and Austin are in your relationship. You and Austin have so much mutual love and respect for one another, he has never made you feel less than or like you should feel guilty or embarrassed for knowing and appreciating yourself.

And he's certainly never complained about what you've worn. You often know what he thinks about your clothes because he tells you—and something that you love best? No matter whether you're wearing a pair of joggers and one of his t-shirts or an elaborate dress from Fashion Week, the compliment is always in the same wheelhouse—'you're beautiful'.

So…why are these range of comments beginning to bother you? Especially when you realize the small sample size is women. You can’t even appreciate when others step in to back you up.

kelly_allen: she wore that to a…family dinner? austin44: yikes jessi1030: 😍😍😍 elvisfan: oh come on guys, maybe they’re going to a club afterwards? stylespreseleyhearted: pretty sure what she’s wearing is no one’s business—besides, do you see Austin complaining?? elvisthepelvis: bro just saying, his last gf wasn’t nearly as slutty

You don't even hear Austin come into the kitchen but suddenly he's in front of you, gently taking your phone out of your hand with a soft expression, "Told you not to look at that crap."

You crinkle your nose—were you being that obvious? "I know," You turn to lean back against the counter as Austin sets your phone face down, moving to stand in front of you and carefully pin you against the surface. His arms create a cage as he tilts his head down to nip at your lower lip, causing you to laugh. "Sometimes it's hard to avoid."

Austin hums lightly, lifting his one hand to cup your cheek. You turn into the touch a little, pressing a kiss to his palm and closing your eyes for a few moments to take a breath.

"It doesn't bother you?" You ask, gazing up into his blue ones, "What people say?"

He shakes his head before trailing his thumb over your lower lip, "It bothers me that you're upset."

Letting out a soft sigh, you roll your eyes to the ceiling before a semi-dramatic huff leaves your lips. You tilt forward a little until your forehead rests against Austin’s shoulder and it’s…a perfectly good spot right now. His arms move to wrap around your frame, squeezing, one hand massaging circles into your spine. Up and down in a soothing motion, almost perfect enough to fall asleep to.

You just…come to the decision that you can’t let it sit with you. It’s alright to let it upset you, you’re human and you have real emotions, but those words don’t have to plant seeds of doubt—there is nothing wrong with utterly being yourself.

Tilting your head back up, you give Austin a small smile, “I love you.”

He playfully grabs your chin with his fingers, his own matching smile as he leans down to kiss you in response.

Everything’s fine until it isn’t.

You kinda remove yourself from social media for a little bit, not deactivating anything, just not actively posting any updates about you and Austin or yourself. It’s definitely unlike you but you feel like you need a cleanse? To just get back on track of just doing your own thing without worrying about what anyone else thinks.

And that works for a while.

You’re out and about to grab lunch with a friend and after you’ve done that, you stop at a coffee shop that you frequent to get a latte that you’re only slightly obsessed with. It’s a nice day out so you’re wearing this t-shirt dress that hikes up the leg, showing off a thigh tattoo you have. You’ve paired it with this jean corset that creates a silhouette look, it’s one of your favorite fashion combinations to put together.

You turn to walk out of the café with your order and hold the door for someone behind you and you feel what happens before you even have time to process it. That same person says your name and there’s a fraction of a second where you’re confused because you’re ninety percent sure you don’t know them—

Then, “Slut.” And they toss their drink down the front of you.

You gasp and take a step back out of instinct and your mouth hangs open, not necessarily out of pain even though the coffee is hot, but because you’re shocked.

One of the baristas who know you and Austin well as regulars rushes out from behind the counter to hand you a hand-towel and ask you if you’re alright but…you can barely grasp the towel to begin patting yourself down, let alone answer their question. Emotions are heavy and quick, hitting you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes burn with tears and this lump appears in your throat that is incredibly difficult to swallow over.

You barely push out the words thank you before handing the towel back and rushing out of the doorway, making a b-line for home.

It’s a mixed bag of emotions and maybe you’re pissed off because you have no idea how to actually feel. You’re angry and vulnerable and sick to your stomach all at once, you don’t even realize your hands are shaking until you tear off your clothes and toss them on the floor. You lean against the sink in your stained nude bra and underwear, squeezing the sink, not being able to look yourself in the mirror because you know you’ll cry.

Austin chooses that exact moment to walk in the front door.

You quickly turn the shower on and reach for the bathroom door as your boyfriend wanders into the bedroom, “Hey Y/N.”

And you can’t quite close it now, giving him a ghost of a smile as you leave it open a crack to say, “Hey, just gonna grab a shower.”

But your voice does not sound like your own and Austin immediately picks up on that, taking a step closer. His eyebrows draw together as he touches the door, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” You reply, a bit too quickly.

Now Austin’s concerned, you can see the look right on his face because he knows you’re lying. He gently pushes on the door a bit more, getting you to take a step back.

“Austin—” You shake your head.

His eyes flutter across you then to the stained clothes on the floor, “What happened?”

Your voice changes, just slightly, because now you’re starting to get worked up. You just want him to leave you alone at the very same time that you want to tell him everything. And yet the words stick like glue in the back of your mouth because you know this was one of his fans that’s done this to you and…your interaction with Austin’s fans have always been pleasant. They’ve been nice and thoughtful and respectful so the fact that this happened feels messed up even more than it already is.

“Coffee happened,” You reply, voice sharp as you motion to the floor, “Obviously.”

“Y/N.” He says and it’s gentle, far too gentle and yet it somehow feels like a dagger right between your ribs and suddenly everything spills right out.

“Oh my god,” You scoff out a laugh, running a hand over your forehead, pushing your hair back. “What happened was I was at the café on the corner and when I went to leave, someone called me a slut and thew coffee at me. Okay? Happy?”

Austin stands there for a moment, a mixture of emotions passing over his face, his jaw clenching in that way where you know he’s pissed off. He doesn’t say anything though, like you expect he might, instead he takes a step forward and clasps the back of your neck with the palm of his hand. He draws you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you and you’re tense for a long few moments until you just…melt against his embrace.

That’s when the tears come.

There’s no loud sobbing but a stream of silent crying against his shoulder, turning your face into his neck and sniffling, fingers gathering the fabric of his shirt in your hands as your shoulders tremble. He doesn’t move for a long time, just keeps you against him, his hand stroking through your hair and massaging along your shoulders. He pulls back just slightly to look down at you, his hand cupping your cheek and removing a tear track with his thumb.

“M'sorry baby,” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You shake your head, sniffling again—your face feels puffy and wet, eyes red-rimmed, a bit congested from crying. A mess, really, can’t even imagine what you must look like. The thing is—he doesn’t have to apologize to you. He’s not in control of any of this, especially his fans. You know it’s not one hundred percent responsibility but moreso he cares that you’re upset, he’s hurt because you’re hurting.

“I love you.” Austin says, tilting your chin up just slightly so that your gazes meet.

That always manages to pull the softest of smiles from you and this is no different, regardless of how terrible you feel. You nod as you rest your hand on his chest, a point of connection, grounding, as Austin tugs you into his embrace again.

A few days pass since the incident and Austin has been relatively quiet about it. It's not that he's ignoring the situation or refusing to talk about it but rather he's just giving you open space to talk to him, or not talk at all. You appreciate that more than you can really put into words, you're not quite sure what you'd say anyways. It's such a push and pull kind of situation—you know that tensions and emotions run really high for fans, they feel a connection to Austin as real as the one you have with him, even if it's not the same at all. You don't want to disrespect that, you get that fans are also what make Austin's work so important—he cares about them and what they bring to the table in terms of his stardom. But at the same time? you definitely feel insulted, hurt, and you don't understand what you've done exactly to deserve such strong words and actions from a stranger.

It's a warmer day out and Austin's decided to take you out because you both have time off (secretly you know he's just trying to make you feel better, but it's working). It's a pretty lazy day, you're wearing a soft yellow sundress, a bit sheer, but it hangs on you beautifully. You're on your way to a brunch after visiting a farmer's market, a tote bag filled with fresh produce, cheese and some homemade fruit pastries that you couldn't pass up.

You wander down the sidewalk, Austin ending up behind you and it takes you a moment to turn around...to see him taking a video of you. Your cheeks flush pink and you kinda give him this look before laughing,

"What are you doing?"

"Filming my beautiful girlfriend." Austin replies, like it's obvious. "Do a twirl or somethin'."

You laugh, shaking your head, "No, stop."

"C'mon, can't be wearin' a pretty dress like that for no reason."

You roll your eyes but you're grinning, so you do what he asks. You do a playful twirl and come to meet him, grabbing his other hand as he flips the video around so that it's in selfie mode, you pressed up against his chest. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips before ending the video. Lazily wrapping your arms around his waist, you watch as he taps open his Instagram on his phone, your eyebrows lifting slightly. You...didn't actually think he was going to do anything with the video he took. He snaps photos and takes videos all the time but they never end up on social media, which is fine, you know Austin isn't as active as you are on apps.

But for him to be...putting this on his story?

"Austin."

"I know what I'm doin'." He replies, drawing an arm around your shoulder. He presses a kiss to your temple and uploads the video to his story with the comment 'main character energy' and you can't help but snort out a laugh because he's ridiculous and cute and…sweet. And you fall a little bit more in love with him in that very moment.

He waits until the video loads before he closes his phone, putting it back into his pocket. Giving you a soft smile, he leans down to brush a kiss along the bridge of your nose. You hum lightly, eyes fluttering closed as you soak in the moment with him.

He definitely didn't need to do that? But it makes all the difference.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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powderblueblood · 3 months

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GETTING TO KNOW YOUR EDDIE

— the 411 on the loser playboy of the midwestern world

Tagged by @jo-harrington & @deathbecomesthem who got this stunning prompt on the road, love this love youse

let’s talk MUNSON!

What story is he from? What kind of story is it (Fix-it fic, Older!Eddie, Rockstar!Eddie etc)? The Eddie darling that takes up prime real estate in my brain is of course Hellfire & Ice Eddie, which is a teen romantic-dramadey with sprinkles of crime capers on top. We meet him at 18 years of age, drug dealin’, Dungeon wheelin’, at the absolute top of his bottom of the food chain game. He’s all raw nerve and engine sputter, our consummate not ready for prime time player. He is brassy, ballsy, funny, terrified.

What inspired you to write this Eddie? Flight of Icarus, actually! It reignited my initial love for him by basically confirming what I had already known to be true—he’s a little bitch that’ll take any opportunity to be struck down lovesick and he’s doomed by his bloodline.

What are your favorite headcanons about him/share something you never shared in your story? Eddie runs on a full tank of defiance, just burning rubber against what’s expected of kids his age—but to zoom in? Eddie sometimes wonders what it would be like if he was different. Tried harder. Cut his hair, joined the basketball team, really pulled himself up by his bootstraps and divorced himself from his stain of a last name. Folded in and blended, made all the right moves. Why couldn’t I do that? he thinks, Just pretend. I’m good at making shit up. But that’s selling out. And Eddie Munson is no sell out—rap sheet or no, his life is his own.

What does he wear on a casual day? On a dressier day? What does he wear to bed? Casual day, it’s your cartoon character stock costume of insert band t-shirt here, ripped jeans there, doubled up battle vest and leather cut to top it all off. There might be a variant in jean shade but that’s it. He likes to stick to a look. The dressiest he’ll go (he does not own dressy clothes) is a black cable knit sweater, very old, with the thumb holes worried through the cuffs. To bed, preferably nothing, but boxers of absolutely necessary and a very old, ratty pair of flannel PJ bottoms and an old t-shirt or a faded sweatshirt of Wayne’s if it’s freezing.

Favorite foods? This FUCK loves a pizza with the most fuckass toppings. Anchovy, black olive, pepperoni, sweetcorn (for the vitamins!), pineapple (for the jizz thing!) all on the one pie. But he can cook, to an extent, and we unfortunately have to hand this to ex-line cook Al who taught him how to grill a cheese and make a bitchin’ spaghetti with honeyed tomato gravy and lots of oregano. Eddie also loves a snack he can gesticulate with, see: Twizzler, corn dog, ice pop. Bordering on phallic foods.

Tell Us About His Family/Friends: Immediately in the gene pool—Al, the absent and up-to-no-good father who somehow still has a knife in Eddie’s side and will twist it with the simple words, “C’mon, that’s my boy!” Wayne, uncle and father figure, silent but loving and the only real pillar Eddie could ever lean against, and he feels like such a burden for it sometimes. Elizabeth, mommy dearest and dead, canonised like a saint in Eddie’s mind, and might have been but also might not have been. The root of his love of music and his need to tell stories to survive. The found-by-the-hand-of fate family— Ronnie Ecker, the Stalter to his Waldorf, the Bonham to his Page, the only person he’d ever follow into battle because you wouldn’t think it but Ronnie, who is secretly rage akimbo, would accidentally lead that charge. He loves her like a sister, she loves him like a dog. Just kidding. Maybe. He wants to be Ronnie Ecker when he grows up. Granny Ecker comes as part of this deal, one of the people credited with whooping Eddie into shape. We don’t quite know what shape yet, it’s Picassoan in nature. Then, the extension again that is the great Corroded Coffin/Hellfire crossover event—Jeff, Cyrus, Dougie and Gareth. He’s not quite as close with the boys, but they’re good boys. They love and fear him, except for Cyrus who is a true enigma which pisses Eddie off because he’s supposed to be the fucking enigma here, dammit.

Yeah Yeah, he's a Metalhead. Tell Us MORE About His Taste in Music in your story: We are working off Flight of Icarus rules so he’s got a taste in the mouth for Howlin’ Wolf style blues, real down and dirty Detroit shit. He also loves a sleazeball, so enter Tom Waits and when he’s feeling REALLY sentimental, Leonard Cohen. Eddie loves to bite a thumb so he has some punk spinning too—Richard Hell, MC5, The Cramps, and reluctantly Iggy and the Stooges. They’re Al’s favourite so kind of tainted. Last but not least, I think that Johnny Cash’s Live From Folsom Prison album gets a lot of play. Particularly Cocaine Blues and Dark in the Dungeon, which he’s definitely incorporated into some campaign. He does NOT listen to CHICK MUSIC because he’s a loser boy (Wayne has a Linda Ronstadt record that makes him cry).

What are his views on romance? On sex? Eddie Munson falls in love fourteen times a day because at the be all and end all, he’s an artist and he’s sensitive as shit. Let’s get one thing straight—he can flirt to beat the band, once anyone gives him the time of day. Which they don’t. But in his mind? He’s a silver tongued Casanova. It’s just easier to use on people he hates. Once he has a crush, he has an obsession, even if he’s oftentimes too chickenshit to act on it. Cue pulling pigtails in the playground routine. He wants so badly to worship someone and be worshipped in return, okay, it’s reciprocal worshipping—give him mutual pathological obsession or give him DEATH. He wants to build a shrine, and will, to the right person. He’ll preoccupy his mind with every detail about them to the point where, yeah, it is borderline kind of stalkery but he’s still 18 years old. Speaking of, sex? Yeah, he’s done it. Badly. He’s like to do it again, goodly. He’d like to do it with someone that wasn’t treating it like an experiment, someone who’d let him slobber all over them and rut and keen and whine like the hound in heat he fucking feels like. He has no goddamn control! He experiences pleasure in a total headrush, never been able to stay cool and sexy and commanding a day in his life. He just wants, wants, wants and he burns so hot. Eddie wants so clumsily that it comes out at the most inappropriate times, like the nurse’s office after he gets his fist busted. He’s not some sex god, just some dick with an overeager cock. But he sure is willing to put in the work.

Is he optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic on the surface, the life is shit and then you die so might as well do some whippits poster boy but so so secretly, Eddie holds the tiniest flame of hope that someday, somehow, things will get better. At the very least easier. That he’ll grow into his bones somehow, or someone will help soothe him into them. That he’ll feel some kind of belonging. Because he does want that, really. Some soft place to land.

Where or with whom is he most comfortable? Those pockets of alchemy at Hellfire Club when he’s got a rapt audience. With Ronnie, sitting on the sagging couch outside his trailer. Playing chauffeur to a certain princess across-the-way.

What are his views of his future? What are his hopes/dreams? Pie in the sky? Cover of Circus with his cheeks out, duh. A Grammy or two, his own metal club, a published fantasy author, shit. He’s not askin’ for the world, here! But honestly, Eddie’s view of his future is 18 year old misanthropist bleak. He hasn’t even considered college as an option, not that he’d get there with his grades. He figures he might just start selling full time for Rick once (if) he graduates then hopefully have the good enough sense to take his money and split to Chicago or someplace. Might hit it lucky when he’s played in a couple more iterations of Corroded Coffin and con someone into letting him be a session guitarist—which wouldn’t be the cover of Circus, but would still be a huge deal! But as much as an ego game as he likes to talk, he’s got this terrible, looming feeling that he’ll never leave Hawkins alive.

What do you imagine his future looks like? (If your story is incomplete or if this would be a spoiler you're not willing to share, you can skip this question.) I’ll give you a couple details, because I am writing a sequel about this. Picture a brief stint in Indianapolis. Meaner, grizzlier, bartender-ier, going on a decade of heartbreak, performing at his sexual best but nearing burnout and about to turn 30 with some side dealings at home that are edging out of the side and into the forefront. Heavy is the hand that wears the ring. You look so much like your father!

Anything else you'd like us to know about your Eddie/your story? He is so full of love and piss and vinegar. He is going to end up cherished. Like, violently so.

Optional Vulnerable Question: Why do you write fics for Eddie Munson? I love a tragedy touched smartass who folds at the first sign of affection. I want to nourish him and eat him up like the witch from Hansel and Gretel. Or have Lacy do it for me, whatever.

tagging: YOU. READING THIS. Not KIDDING IF YOURE READING THIS GET TO WORK

#YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH BOYYYYYYYYYYYYYY #you can tell I came up through rp by reading this #wrote on mobile so if you see typos NO U DIDNT!#e. munson by powder #hai brainrot

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smolghostbot · 5 months

Text

Patchwork Melody - Spring

It's finally here... the first meeting story for these two blorbos. This is Chapter 1 of a 4 chapter story, so it ends on a biiit of a cliffhanger, just a heads-up. Dashes denote a POV change.

Part 2 here!

Word Count: 7k (!!!)

CWs: accidental dehumanization (Typical for this kind of story), kidnapping, accidental ableism, allusions to history of abuse, POV depiction of PTSD flashback and panic attack which are improperly handled. The worst of this lives in Part 4.

Tag List (Hopefully this isn't too presumptuous): @gt-daboss

=====

Part 1

The small figure runs, ducking behind the flower box they were digging through moments prior. Just run, just run, it already saw you!, they think, as they push every muscle past its limits in a dramatic last stand. They hear a soft voice from far above as they try desperately to flee. The ground behind them starts to rumble as they realize with fear that they've run right into a corner. Turning around with terror on their face, they cower behind their backpack, trying desperately to use their most prized belonging as a shield, if it meant they would live another day. Glancing past the bag, they stare up at the red eyes peering down at them, awaiting their doom, or worse, their captivity.

It was a sleepy Saturday morning as Melody walked out of her apartment. Normally, they wouldn't dream of being awake this early, but another round of insomnia decided that six in the morning was the perfect time to wake up and start the day. She had the day off work, and decided to go for a walk to wake up a bit after throwing on an old t-shirt and some jeans. While they'd love to go back to sleep, they'd already gotten in enough hot water for missing work, and couldn't afford to ruin their sleep schedule again. Literally, because an apartment with a front porch in this part of town doesn't pay for itself. After locking the door and putting her keys in her bag, Melody couldn't help but notice that the jingling noise didn't stop, just got softer.

Melody looked curiously over at the source of the noise, something within the flowerbed next to her door. What she saw was some sort of tiny creature with a mop of silver-gray hair that had a lone purple streak, large pointed ears that each seemed as long as its head, and what appeared to be a blue backpack. This strange thing seemed to be rooting around in the dirt as if looking for something.

Mel immediately felt a mix of excitement and curiosity. If she wasn't just having some sort of insomnia-induced hallucination, this was clearly some sort of elf, or other type of fae, based on its short size and ears. The backpack probably indicates sentience… could she talk to it? Learn from it?

But also… whatever this thing was, it was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. As Mel leaned in closer, the tiny creature's ears twitched, and it seemed to notice her with a look of dawning fear as it began to run away.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't be afraid, I don't want to hurt you, just know what you are," said the human. At least, the terrified sprite thought the being was a human. It had the height and weird rounded ears, but its eyes were a bright red, and its hair seemed to be a greenish… blueish… a color that human hair is not, at least as far as they knew.

Even aside from their hair and eyes, the human was definitely an odd-looking one, being rather tall and lanky, even by the standards of humans. They were wearing a simple gray shirt, with some sort of figure on the shirt that the sprite couldn't recognize, and a denim jacket with matching pants. Their face, staring in wonder, was somewhat pale, with a light dusting of freckles that matched the sprite's own. It was outlined by a fairly chiseled jaw, but was otherwise soft in features. Round glasses were perched on their nose, creating an odd distortion on the giant creature's eyes from the sprite’s perspective. The human was staring them dead in the eyes and leaning down even closer, before they spoke again, their slightly deep voice a soft whisper, as if afraid to hurt the sprite's ears.

"Hello? I'm guessing you're either ignoring me or can't understand me. I promise I mean you no harm, little cutie. I just want to get a closer look at you real quick... I'll let you go on your way in just a moment…"

Having cornered the tiny creature, Melody bent down to lift the adorable tiny thing. Her first observation was just how small it was, probably no bigger than a few inches. Held within her loose fist, the tiny thing's squirming legs didn't even reach her pinky finger. Her comparatively massive red eyes, the result of her decorative contacts, gazed at the tiny creature with fascination, watching it flail about in her hand with a raw curiosity. Despite putting almost no pressure into her grip, afraid of hurting this small creature, she couldn't even feel the struggles of the little thing. Now that it was closer and (slightly) more still, she was able to get a more detailed look at its features. Its skin had a grayish pallor that Melody wasn't sure was natural for whatever it was. Its eyes were a vibrant purple, offset by the duller purple of the bags under them. Purple eyes would help the theory that it has magic… maybe. Aside from the backpack, which she now noticed was denim, it seemed to be wearing a loose-fitting brown cloak or tunic of some sort, with one shoulder exposed, and a small green scarf around its neck, both made out of some kind of fine fabric. Definitely not silk, but not any fabric she recognized. The scarf was a bit odd, given the spring weather, but maybe its body is supposed to be as cold as it felt in her hand. Something cold-blooded? Layers would make sense, then.

The creature's squirming slowed down, as it seemed to realize the futility of its motions. Its long ears drooped down in a clear display of sadness, and its vibrant purple eyes closed. Melody attempted once more to communicate with this tiny thing in her hand.

"Are you done, little cutie? No more thrashing around? If I let go, do you promise to not try to, like, jump or anything? You would probably hurt yourself falling from this height."

The sprite hung their head low. Upon being asked to not resist by this massive human, they nodded their head slowly in compliance. It's true, they would survive a fall from this height onto maybe a carpet, or the grass, but a drop this tall on pavement would surely leave them seriously injured… at best. And seriously injured is not the state to be in this close to a human.

The human's face lit up at the nod, and the excitement in their voice was clear as they began rapid-firing questions. "Wait, you can understand me? What are you? A fairy? An elf? Who are you? May I know your name? Where are you from? Are there more of you? Do you know magic? Why were you in my flower bed?"

The sprite couldn't keep up with the questions, and simply stared wide-eyed at their captor as if trying to process every question at once. As this human became more passionate in their questioning, their grip absent-mindedly tightened on the sprite in their hand.

Mel continued asking questions, this was her chance! Their whole life has been waiting for the moment something supernatural would finally happen, and now some kind of fae literally shows up at their doorstep. They were so excited, in fact, that they forgot about their grip until the tiny creature in their hand suddenly moved. Its ears perked up in alertness as it twitched its spine in pain. Its face contorted into what appeared to be a yell or scream, yet no sound came out. Immediately, Mel panicked and loosened her grip on the strange creature, letting it rest in her open palm.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you? Let me see!" Mel immediately noticed the creature clutching its arm in what was clear pain. A terrible chill ran down her spine, worried that she accidentally hurt the small thing, and fearing how much worse she could have done if she didn't notice.

"I… I'm so sorry, let me take you inside and we can talk there, I can see what I can do for your arm, and get you some food and water too if you need them," The human said, as if the creature she held in her palm had any choice at the moment. The human wasted no time before turning around and carrying her new find back inside.

Part 2

The young sprite had never been in this particular apartment, but immediately wished they had known about it on stealthier terms. The place was packed, plants decorating most surfaces as well as the bookcases close to the two windows. Further away, another bookcase was present, this one adorned with plants that seemed to need less sun, as well as rocks, jars of mysterious dried plants, and a few tiny bottles filled with interesting colored substances. Combined with the many thick books for cover, this place would be a prime Borrowing house.

When they were finally released from their captor's hands, they found themself roughly placed in a plastic container on a tabletop, the sides of which were easily twice as tall as the sprite. After giving a cautionary check, the plastic was indeed too smooth to climb. As the scared sprite went to dig through their bag for a hook or something, the human lifted their backpack away, placing it on the table outside of the container.

"Nope, nope, you can get this back once you answer some questions and we look at that arm of yours. I don't want you running off and getting yourself hurt, my apartment is absolutely not safe for something so small. I promise it's just for a moment," the human stated matter-of-factly. As she turned and walked towards the kitchen to retrieve her first-aid kit, she continued her barrage of questions. "So, what are you, little cutie?"

After bringing the first aid kit over, unsure what to really do for a tiny magical(?) creature, Mel noticed the lack of response. It definitely nodded yes to their question before... probably. But judging by its lack of response now, maybe it was a mistake? A simple motion of a struggling thing, taken out of context. She had to make sure. "You... can understand me, right? Nod yes and take... two steps sideways if you can understand me."

The creature stared at her, tilting its head in confusion. As it tilted its head, Melody couldn't help but notice how cute it was. Its oversized ears seemed to move slower than the rest of its head, reminding her of the floppy ears of a dog or a kitten, despite their pointed shape. When the creature did exactly as asked, Melody's eyes went wide with excitement, now having definite proof that it, no, HE understands her. He? Probably, it definitely looks masculine. She made a mental note that male pronouns would do unless the little thing corrects her. She couldn't make out an age exactly, but he seemed on the younger end. Maybe a teenager? His head and ears made it hard to tell, being so much bigger than a human's would be at the same scale. Melody gave another shot at speaking with the small creature. "Okay, so once again... what are you? Please tell me?"

Melody noticed the creature trying to do some sort of hand motions, but couldn't understand. Was he trying to cast magic? Is that a thing he can do? Melody watched with curiosity to see if anything would happen, only to be disappointed as nothing changed.

There was a quiet, awkward moment between them, as the tiny thing's ears drooped sadly again. Eventually, she spoke again, slightly confused. "Uh… was that supposed to do something? Whatever, that's fine, you don't have to say anything. I've got all day, little cutie. I'm not going to go anywhere until you talk."

Unfortunately for Melody, her determination to find out more about this strange little being lost out to her impatience within about three minutes. Their head laying on the table, they began to beg, their voice sounding desperate.

"Come onnnn, just say something. Anything. Give me any kind of answer. Pleeeeease?"

The sprite remained silent, appearing lost in thought.

Could this human be reasoned with? As they went to motion to their bag, the human continued speaking.

"Please? I just want to understand you, I can't help you otherwise."

After another moment, the sprite's giant captor stood up and walked away. They instantly became terrified. Was the human getting something to punish them for their silence? Were they finally dropping the nice facade?

Eventually, the human came back to the table with a large book. Placing it down gently, so as not to scare the tiny creature with a loud thump, they began to flip through the book.

"Okay… pointed ears say an elf, but your ears aren't really very… elven. Maybe you're a mousefolk? But you have no tail… or if you do, it's a tiny one hidden under that little robe of yours… I did find you outside of my house, and your outfit looks a bit ragged… uh, no offense, of course. Maybe you're a brownie? I have some milk in the fridge, would that get you to talk?"

They could only look at the human with a confused look. What was she going on about?

"... No wings, so you probably aren't a fairy… unless you lost your wings. Did you ever have wings, little thing?"

The confused sprite only shook their head in a slow "no".

"OK… well, I probably… uh… should have gone for something more professional than a D&D guidebook… I think I still have my old college textbooks around here somewhere… gods knows those things are way too expensive to chuck…"

The human left, and took several more books off the shelf after a few minutes of looking around. She flipped through each book, taking what felt like forever, muttering to herself as she went.

"We're miles from the nearest forest… you clearly aren't invisible… Definitely don't look human… Those clothes don't look at all suitable for living in water… it's… maybe technically nighttime? But you weren't leaving a gift… unless… you were actually planting seeds! Is this backpack full of seeds?"

The small sprite instantly went into a panic as the human looked over to their backpack, frantically shaking their head in a no, and praying that the human didn't try to dig into the bag. They already had to fix it up after… the last human they met. Luckily, this human seems to have had no plans on that and continued digging through the books, becoming more frustrated over time.

Eventually, they seem to have hit their limit, and threw their head back in agitation before speaking in a more aggressive tone than they had previously. "Ugh! Why won't you just say anything!?"

Melody noticed a knocking noise on the plastic container her little "guest" was in, and saw the mysterious little thing clearly trying to get her attention. As she looked over at him, she saw him frantically motioning with his hands over his neck, in an X shape. His mouth was moving, speaking in an exaggerated way, as if to make it easier for her to see that no sound was coming out of his mouth. He clearly looked scared, probably threatened by her voice raising. Her eyes lit up in both realization and embarrassment.

"Oh my gods. You aren't just being silent to be difficult… you can't actually speak, can you?" As he nodded a yes, Mel lowered her head into her hands in shame.

"Shit, I'm such a dick. That's what your little hand motions were, oh my gods you were signing! My dumb ass was sitting here thinking you were trying to cast spells or something, ugh, I'm such an idiot! Maybe not everything about this situation is silly and fantastical, Mel, maybe he's just mute and you're being insensitive like always."

Their head raised and their face shifted into a goofy expression as they began to cheer with a clearly sarcastic voice, "Yeah Mel, yeah, woo, get upset at a mute guy for not speaking, like a COMPLETE ASSHOLE, hell yeah, casual ableism, woo!!"

The human hung her head in embarrassment again before continuing to berate herself, putting her head in her hands.

"Ugh… I swear, I didn't know, if I had known I would never… I'm not some, like, prick, I swear. Oh my gods, I'm so stupid. Way to make a first impression, at least I know you can't hex me or whatever because I would be so cursed right now for sure."

If the sprite could communicate at the moment, and wasn't still terrified of this human, they would have had some strong words about how kidnapping was also not a good first impression. However, they had no intent on insulting their captor, despite the clear look of regret already on the human's face. They remained still, waiting for the human to compose herself.

Part 3

After a bit too much self-flagellation, Melody tried to think logically about the situation. "OK, so I don't actually know sign language, if that wasn't obvious. Can you write?"

After getting an enthusiastic nod and a point at their little backpack, Melody thought she understood.

"You can write, and have something to write with in your little bag?"

After getting a slow and cautious nod in response, the human gently placed the backpack inside of the plastic container and waited to see what happened. The small creature instantly pointed to a lighter part of their backpack intently.

"What are you pointing at?" As they looked closer to the tiny backpack, they noticed what appeared to be a different fabric sewn on, with some kind of… unusual symbols written on. The little thing pointed repeatedly to himself, and then the writing.

Her disappointment was obvious as she spoke her next words. "That's… your name… isn't it?"

The small creature seemed to be somewhere between excited and nervous as they hesitantly nodded, obviously seeing the lack of recognition on Mel's face.

"I…" They sigh before continuing, "I have no idea what that says, little cutie."

Melody picked up one of their books and pointed to an arbitrary passage of text, making sure the little one could see it. "Can you… read these words? Any of them?"

The tiny being's large ears drooped in disappointment and he shook his head sadly, as Melody's own expression mirrored his. This was about to make things much more complicated.

"Okay, well, I can't just keep calling you 'little cutie'... even though you totally are, you need some kind of name. Maybe I can try to guess? What about… Gilbert? Linus? Stop me if any of these are close to your name... Derwin?"

. . .

The completely blank response they got from the little being said everything Mel needed to know.

"Yeah, you're right, this is stupid. This would be so much easier if I could just read your little backpack patch…"

The human's face seemed to light up as they said that, to the confusion of the sprite.

"Wait a second… that sounds cute… what about Patch? Just- Just as a nickname. Until we can figure out a better way to communicate. If you like it, of course."

At this unexpected politeness, the sprite nodded their head enthusiastically. Truthfully, the name didn't sound that bad… especially compared to Derwin. And though there's no real magic behind them, names do have a certain power when it comes to empathy, something that they hoped would work on this human. They remember how the last human they encountered refused to call them anything other than… they didn't exactly get named.

"Perfect! Well then, it's nice to formally meet you, Patch. I guess I never introduced myself, it's… probably safe to do that. You tried to tell me your name, after all. You may refer to me as Melody, or Mel," the human stated, in a slightly odd manner, as she gave as much of a curtsy as possible while sitting in a chair wearing a t-shirt.

Melody went to hold out their hand, before awkwardly withdrawing and brushing it through their hair, as if they were about to give a handshake but realized the complication there. They continued talking as if nothing happened.

"Okay Patch, so I can't read your writing, but you can nod. We can… we can work with this. Can I ask you questions and you can nod yes or no?"

The small sprite nodded in approval, happy but anxious to finally be communicating, and Mel began asking simple questions.

"So… do you have magic?" At this, Patch hesitated before shaking his no sadly.

"Okay, just checking. Are there others of your kind?" Yes.

“Can they, um… can they speak?” Yes

"Is it the same language I’m speaking?" Yes.

"Do they live near here?" Mel asked, before being met with a nervous look on Patch's face. Not wanting to offend, Melody quickly continued on. "That's fair, I'm sure you're supposed to be secretive, right?" Yes.

"Okay… can you say if you live near here?" Mel asked, to a nervous nod yes. "Oh, okay! I guess you could say we're kinda like neighbors then! Um, alright, if I can ask another question, how did you get here? Like… this area?"

After being met with an unamused glance at the open-ended question, Melody decided to restate it. "Did you get here through some kind of, I don't know, portal or wormhole or… or spaceship? I just can’t believe I’ve never seen any of your kind before." Patch's head tilted again in confusion, clearly not comprehending what the human was saying.

"Okay, we'll go back to that. Actually, wait, scratch that, we need to go back a lot. Are you hungry?"

Patch's response was skeptical as they anxiously nodded yes. "Don't be so nervous. Do you like, um… I haven't been to the store in a bit… I have…" Melody paused as she tapped her chin, thinking. "Some leftover Chinese food? Some pretzels? A few apples…"

Melody noticed the sprite's ears perked up as she said apples.

"Apples are good?" She asked, to confirm what she had noticed. As Patch nodded his head slowly, Melody excitedly continued, happy to have figured out a way to help the little sprite. "Perfect! I'll be right back. I'll bring some food and water, and then we can look at that arm of yours."

After a few stressful moments, Patch saw the human return with a small green apple and a knife, which they eyed nervously. Something that sharp in the hands of a human… Patch shuddered as their mind flashed back… and in a panic, they suddenly became well aware of the fact that they were trapped inside of an enclosed space, with a human walking closer brandishing a weapon bigger than they were. They desperately tried to scamper up the side of the container with a renewed fervor, but with only one good arm, the effort was hopeless. Melody noticed the movement as she spoke.

"Woah there, Patch, calm down. I'm just going to cut it first and then give it to you, okay? Just be patient for a moment."

They watched as the human somewhat clumsily sliced the apple, clearly trying to avoid cutting herself. Eventually, about a third of the apple was sliced, and gently placed next to Patch.

"Here you go, Patch. Eat up, and I'll, uh, find a way to get you some water real quick."

Melody was only gone for a moment, as she found a water bottle cap and filled it with water. When she returned, the apple slice was well over halfway gone, leaving only the peel, which the little being had apparently eaten around. Melody could only chuckle to herself at how quickly Patch had eaten that much. "Woah, you were hungry, weren't you, Patch?"

Melody noticed Patch's face and ears turn a bit red, as he rubbed behind one of his big ears sheepishly.

"Do you… want more?"

The little being, still looking bashful, shook his head no, and patted his stomach. Melody placed the cap inside of the plastic container and watched as Patch quickly drank the entire thing. Clearly this creature needed to eat and drink a lot more than his size suggested… unless he was particularly hungry. Looking closer, Melody could see that Patch's skin had already dramatically changed color, being more of a human-esque warm skin tone than the gray tint it was before. Was… was he malnourished? Should she insist he eat more, or was devouring that apple slice already "eating more"?

Deciding to trust the tiny creature's judgment, Melody began to cut another slice of the apple for herself, not wanting to waste the rest of it. After holding out the slice to Patch as a final offer, and receiving another head shake as a response, Melody took a bite of the apple slice, and looked over at Patch, only to see him staring at her.

Patch knew they should have looked away, but couldn't help but watch as Melody took a massive bite out of the apple slice. The sprite tried not to think about the fact that the bites the human took were each roughly as big as they were. While they almost believed (almost) that the human meant them no harm, they still couldn't help but panic at being reminded that they were sitting in what was technically a food container and watching the human eat. They wouldn't… right?

Memories immediately flooded back of them, the last human to have taken Patch like this, and how they would threaten the sprite. Shivering in fear, the sprite looked away, closing their eyes tightly and hoping to get rid of the memory, so they could focus on the present.

Part 4

"Okay, now that we've got you some food and water, let's look at that arm, and see what's wrong. I'm going to take you out of this container, but you have to promise me that you won't leave this table, okay? I don't want you to get hurt."

Patch nodded, but instantly regretted it as Melody's hand quickly reached down to scoop them up and place them down on the desk. While it was only for a moment, the sight of the human's hand flying towards them at such a fast speed caused them to flinch and recoil in fear.

“Okay, hopefully that was… a bit gentler, wouldn’t want to hurt your arm again,” Mel said, unaware of how much Patch was thrown about during that small trip, even with Mel consciously trying to be gentler than before. “So, I’m far from a doctor, but I get the feeling you wouldn’t want me to bring you to an actual doctor, or like… I dunno, a vet or something.” Melody immediately noticed Patch’s face grew worried as she quickly added on to her thought, “Not- Not to imply that you’re an animal, just they’re better with small things like mice, and you’re… anyways, let’s… just take a look at that shoulder. Can you, um, roll up your sleeve or something?”

Hesitantly, Patch did as they were asked, and rolled up their ill-fitting sleeve as far as possible, revealing a red and swollen shoulder. They saw the human wince as she saw it. "Okay… that looks like a sprain… at best. Obviously it hurts to put pressure on it, but can you move it?"

Thinking how to answer, Patch moved their arm a little, and then winced in pain, causing Melody to gasp slightly. "Oh no no, don't move it if it hurts! But that's something, that means it probably isn't completely broken… okay… maybe we should wrap that up? Like in a sling or something. Um… let me check my phone real quick, I'm sure I could figure out how to cut some of this tape up into a little sling for your shoulder. I'm so sorry again if I caused that, I wasn't thinking and I just…" Melody said, her thoughts trailing off as she started to research what to do about this tiny injured arm, leaving Patch to plan their next move.

Finally free from the container, and with their giant captor distracted, Patch instantly decided to make a break for their backpack. Quickly digging through the front pocket, they pull out their trusty rope hook before slinging the large pack over their good shoulder. Without hesitation, they immediately latch the hook to the table's edge. It's a loose fit, but they only need to get about halfway down before the fall is safe, from the looks of it. Wrapping their legs around the rope to make up for the sprained arm, they begin to descend. It's slower than they would normally go, but the ground is so close, and there's enough clutter that they can easily find a hiding spot as long as-

"Hey! What are you- no! You promised!" Melody cried, as she reached out to grab the little runaway, cupping him in her hands.

"Are you mad? That drop could have killed you! And trying to climb with some kind of broken arm, what were you thinking, Patch?"

After she deposited him back on the table, Melody let out a sigh. Her red eyes focused intently on Patch, as if trying to read his mind. "Why are you trying to get away from me that badly? Don't you get that I'm just trying to help you?"

I'm just trying to help you…

…

I'm just trying to help you…

"... so please, just come onto my hand. I'll take care of you, little guy. I promise."

Hungry, lost, and desperate, they find themself nodding, staring into the deep blue eyes of the figure in front of them, their smile wide. Maybe this human is telling the truth, maybe not all humans are bad… maybe the elders were wrong after all, they think to themself.

As they reach out and touch the hand, it is as if they strike a pact with a demon. They hear that all-too-familiar laughter as everything around them darkens. Memories flood back, stinging their soul like ice cold flames. Their whole body is filled with phantom senses as the combined physical and mental impact of the last two years of their life hits them like a tidal wave. Heat, cold, pressure, pain, sights, sounds, smells, taste. Too bright, too dark, too loud, too quiet, too much, too little. They try to scream, for anybody to help, human, sprite, spirit, anybody.

But as always, no sound comes from them.

…

"Uh… Patch? Are you… okay?"

Mel's scolding tone softened as the little thing in front of her began to tear up, staring off at something. She took in his appearance, trying to figure out what was wrong. He looks… like he's breathing faster, maybe, and seems to be gripping his little backpack as if his life depends on it. Did she scare him? What did she say? Unsure what to do, Melody brought a finger gently to Patch's face, to wipe away the tears.

"Hey, little guy, I'm… it's okay, I'm not mad or anything, I…"

Melody's finger suddenly filled with pain, as she pulled it away in shock.

"OW! What the hell, Patch! Did you just bite me!? What's wrong with you!? Is that how you treat somebody trying to comfort you? You just bite them? What are you, a raccoon!? We both know you're better than that."

Mel had never been the best at reading faces, especially when the face was half an inch tall, but the emotion on Patch's face as she yelled seemed to be one of fear. He was staring at her, almost through her, his bright purple eyes completely dilated like a deer in headlights. His ears were pulled back, almost flat against the sides of his head, and Mel could tell his breathing had gotten even heavier and more uneven.

"Well? I know you can understand me, Patch, don't pretend like you can't. Why the hell did you just bite me!?"

Melody wasn't sure what kind of answer they expected, but Patch curling into a fetal position and sobbing was definitely not it. As the tiny person silently cried on her table, Melody could only whisper one thing to herself.

"Oh, fuck."

Part 5

Patch woke up from their slumber, and found themself half-covered by… soft paper of some kind. The kind usually found in human's kitchens. They didn't remember when they fell asleep, the last thing they remembered was… panic. Ah. As their mind began to wake up, they realized they must have fainted or something.

As they regained their bearings, they noticed Melody, sitting all the way across the room on a chair facing them, but clearly invested in a book. As the sprite sat up and pushed the makeshift blanket aside, the human's eyes darted up from the book.

"Uh… hey. I'm… if you're awake, I'm going to come closer, okay? Just back to where I was sitting before. I can't really see you that clearly from this far away, and I'd like to hear what you have to say. Or… see it, I guess."

After a moment, the human got up, and carried the chair back to where it was before. The human seemed… uncharacteristically anxious. What were they doing?

"I… don't know what I said, or did, to make you respond that way, but I clearly upset you. Badly. I'm sorry."

Patch was thrown for a complete loop at the tonal whiplash of how she was acting compared to her attitude before. What happened while they were unconscious?

When Patch began sobbing, Melody instantly knew that she messed up. Badly. That wasn't the response of somebody snapping back in rebellious defiance, that was somebody lashing out in terror. In her fascination with the strange person on her table, she completely overlooked that she was probably, like, thirty times his size. If they were in that situation, they would probably be absolutely terrified, especially if something that much bigger started yelling and shouting. And it was so obvious to them in hindsight that he was having a panic attack. Melody cursed herself for not realizing sooner. Imagine having a panic attack and then you see a car barrelling towards you, no wonder he -literally- snapped at me, she thought, cursing her lack of social skills again.

She continued to watch the poor thing, not wanting to say or do anything, for fear of upsetting him further. After what felt like an agonizing amount of time, he seemed to stop crying, but Mel noticed that he had also gone still. They looked closely, suddenly afraid of the worst, but he seemed to simply be asleep. Unsure what to do, they ripped off a small piece of a paper towel and carefully laid it over his sleeping body, being careful to avoid it touching his face. They picked up one of the more detailed books, as they figured now may be the time to look for more answers as to what this little fellow is.

"So… it's been about a half hour since you fell asleep. I don't know if you measure time the same way, so that may not be helpful, sorry. Are you feeling okay?"

Still baffled, Patch gave a hesitant nod yes. The human seemed nervous, as if thinking carefully of what to say. "I… must be pretty scary to you, huh?"

Patch didn't respond, unsure if this was a trick or not.

"You don't have to say it, that's fair. You're probably worried that I'll be upset. You don't seem to believe me that I won't hurt you. Has…" She stopped to think, trying to figure out how to word this gently, "I'm not the first human who's met you, am I?"

Unsure where this was going, Patch softly shook their head in a "no". Melody sighed before continuing. "And they… weren't very nice to you, were they?"

Her red eyes stared deeply at Patch, as if attempting to glare into his very soul. Patch tried their best to avoid eye contact, but it was clear what the answer was.

"I'm… sorry. For whatever that person did. You didn't deserve it, whatever it was. I know that means, like, fuck-all coming from me, though." The human sighed again before continuing their speech.

"You know, I… I'm not very good at this. At any of it. The whole emotional support thing. Not just because you're a little… whatever you are. I've always been the worst at upsetting people without meaning it. I honestly, swear to the gods, only brought you here to help you. You were injured, and I caused it. Or at least some of it. But… I probably let my excitement get ahead of me. I know, I put you in a literal plastic container like an asshole, but I was just… worried. I didn't want you running away with your arm injured. Honest. I get it if you don't believe me though."

Patch's look of confusion hadn't gone away. This human seems… like they're planning something. Why the sudden act? Are they trying to get them to let their guard down?

"I didn't want to move you while you were sleeping, but… I can bring you outside, if you want to leave. I'd… want to leave me too. Just point to the door and I'll do the rest. But, I would genuinely like to learn more about you. You may have been able to tell that, well, I've always wanted to meet somebody special. Anybody. And then I found you and just got so excited and… I'm sorry about it."

Carefully, Patch walked over to their backpack, waiting for the human to stop them… but she didn't. They hoisted the bag over their good shoulder, and walked over to the hook that was still on the edge of the table.

"That's fair. Can you please let me put you on the floor, though? I promise, no funny business. Just like… an elevator. It's the least I can do."

This is it, Patch thought. She's going to insist that I get in her hand, and then wham, into a box or cage or something. Figuring that if anything happens, it happens regardless, they shake their head in a firm no.

Melody's heart was breaking during this entire conversation. They finally met something supernatural, and it was pissed at her. She did literally everything possible wrong, as always, and now it was costing her the most interesting event of her life. But she tried to continue being apologetic, figuring that this wasn't about her at the moment.

"I get it. Let me at least move a chair over then? You can climb down to the chair, and then the floor. Please let me do that at least?"

There was a hesitant nod of approval, and Melody moved the chair as promised. Their tiny guest made his way down to the floor, and started walking to the door. It took a bit of time, but Mel didn't dare interrupt or interfere.

"All right, I'll open the door so you can get out. It's been… nice to meet you, Patch. Even if you don't feel the same."

She opened the door just enough for Patch to get through, to make it clear that she wouldn't follow. He climbed over the door sweep and stepped outside, before turning around to look at the human with confusion.

"... What?"

Patch was… confused. Did the human just… let them go? Just like that? No grabbing them? No having to escape out a window, having to climb down a brick wall in the dead of night? Just… letting them walk out the door?

They pointed and motioned in a direction, confused, hoping the sentiment of "I'm going to go now" was a universal one. It seemed to be, as Melody gave them a nod. "Yep. Go wherever you want, I'm going to shut the door… and probably go back to reading, I guess. Maybe try to figure out what you are still, but I won't follow you. You have my word."

And with that, Patch walked away. The door closed, and Melody went back to reading their book, as all of the tears that they were holding in finally came pouring out.

Part 6

It had been about two weeks since Melody met Patch. Two weeks since she made him hate her. She returned to work as normal, spending the slow days at the library reading up on mythologies, trying to learn anything about what he was. Research led down a rabbit hole of conspiracies and disinformation about the existence of all sorts of elves, fairies, and other such creatures, but somehow nothing reputable. Melody could only be baffled by this, How could they live in a city, and yet nobody has ever documented them existing? Despite this, Melody kept Patch’s existence close to her own heart. After all, he clearly just wanted to be left alone.

Before leaving for work every morning, they made sure to leave out an apple slice, and every evening, it was gone when they came home. It was probably just taken by a bird or rat or something, especially because the peel was also missing, but they wanted to believe that maybe Patch was getting them. The other option, that the little being had run as far from her as possible, was just too much to bear. Leaving out fruit was all she could do to believe she was repenting for how she treated him.

It was a dreary evening, about sunset, when Mel had to go out to the nearby alley to throw out her trash. As they were taking the trash out back, they saw something move in the corner of their vision. They turned to see what it was, expecting some kind of pest, when…

"Oh, Patch! I, uh… hello."

#aaaa pressing the post button is so hard right now the fear is real ok i'm doing it i'm pressing the button #tell me if this is Too Long and i can split up the further chapters #actually just tell me anything. at all. i'm clawing at the walls for feedback over here #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t ocs #g/t whump #tiny whump #g/t angst #oc tag: patch #oc tag: mel #patchwork melody

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witchthewriter · 10 months

Photo

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

Paid story for @yourwinchesterbros. Word Count: 2k Warnings: swears, alcohol

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

You couldn’t deny what your body had yearned for, for so long. It was like calling to like. Two souls finally merging in the most innocent yet passionate way.

Jax’s hands were on either side of your cheeks, pulling you in close for such an intimate kiss. And you couldn’t help but melt into it. Like

And yet you were instantly reminded that there was a room full of people who were watching intently.

You heard a cough; Gemma, who shrugged and shook her head with her hands in the air. The other Sons had stopped jeering, and funnily enough it was the silence that pulled you from the moment.

Backing away, you gently held your palm up to Jax’s chest.

Shaking your head, face ablaze with red, you walked backwards and down the hall.

You paced back and forth, mind swirling with thoughts. Your head felt heavy, your limbs slow and aching.

How could he do this now? Was it supposed to be a romantic gesture, to show all his club that you were with him?

You were fighting with yourself. Split down the middle. One part aching for the smooth, supple feel of Jax’s lips. The warmth that spread throughout your body.

And the other half was … angry. Why now? After you proved yourself? After enduring enough trauma that Jax now knew you could handle club life?

Fuck.

- ✦ -

“Hey, what was that?”

“Wh-“ You stopped yourself and held up a hand, while the other pinched the bridge of your nose. “What the fuck do you think it was? Am I supposed to forgive and forget everything that happened? Now you want me, now. As if what happened was some sort of fucked up test. And finally you see my strength. No Jax-“

You barely took a breath between each sentence. He didn’t interrupt you, but shook his head with pleading eyes.

“No – no, that’s not it at all,” Jax stepped forward and tried to take hold of your hand, but you moved it out of reach. Taking a step back you pulled at the black club shirt you were wearing and felt the urge to tear it off.

“I am capable Jax. I always have been. Why did it take you this long to figure it out?”

Your eyes glossed over, and you damned your emotions. ‘Do not cry. Do not fucking cry,’ you said in your fuzzy head. Did you still feel this way because of last night, or because of the kiss? Either could be possible. Because both shook you to your core.

Even so, last night felt like a haze. And you couldn’t remember all the details. Only that your nails were bloodstained, even though Jax tried his best to scrub everything from you. He’d do anything to erase any hurt you held. Not just because of him, but because of the world. He hated that you ever had to endure pain. On any level.

- ✦ -

“I want to go home.” Your words were a precise demand. You didn’t want to talk any longer, you didn’t even want to look at Jax.

And he saw that. Jax knew it was pain, because he saw that same look in Tara’s eyes when he said she wasn’t apart of this family, all those years ago.

Was…was he doomed to repeat the same thing over and over again? That was apart of his fear. Why he didn’t want you close. Because too close meant danger, just like last night. Would that happen again?

So, he got Happy to give you a ride back home. And told him to stay a while, make sure you were okay. Give you some company. Even if you didn’t want any.

- ✦ -

“Happy, really, I’m okay,” you said, walking into the kitchen. The dog’s had been fed – you could tell by the way the food had been put back.

“What if I wanted some company?” His light hearted yet gruff voice filled the room.

You huffed and shook your head. “Then go find a croweater.”

He gave you ‘fucking really?’ kind of look and plopped himself on the couch. Picking up the remote, he turned on the television and flicked through the channels.

Rolling your eyes, you set out to find your boys. Angus and Jango were laying on the foot of your bed, and when they heard your footsteps, they lunged upward. They knew you well.

Tails wagging and a little whining, you gave the Doberman and Border Collie good belly rubs. You got on the floor, and they surrounded you. Safe. Completely safe is what you felt. Their bodies rested against yours, and you sighed in relief. You couldn’t think about what would’ve happened to them if something happened to you.

“Hey, you hungry?” Happy called from the living room and the two dogs jumped up and ran down the hall.

“Traitors,” you mumbled, and answered back with a hesitant yes. The dogs knew Happy, they’d been around him for many months. He would have been the one to come around and feed them last night. Or was it this morning? You didn’t know – either way, if it was any other man, he would have been ripped apart.

“Aight,” was all you heard as you walked into your bedroom and undressed. You still had on the borrowed clothing, and right now, you desperately needed it off.

Even from your ensuite, you could hear the clanging of pots and pans. You assumed Happy would go out and get something, but apparently now, you had a personal chef.

You didn’t know what you had in your pantry or fridge. The milk was definitely expired. So, your expectations were low, but after showering and changing, you came out to the kitchen to find an absolute feast.

“Didn’t know if you wanted scrambled, fried, or poached eggs. So, I’ve-“ there was a ding and Happy stopped mid-sentence to check on the currently poaching eggs.

With raised eyebrows, you sat at the kitchen bench which was full of plates; toast, scrambled eggs, two omelettes, baked beans, and an array of your spreads – peanut butter, jam, well…just those two.

“Wow Hap, this is –“

“Man, you barely have any food in this place. The dogs have more than you,” he said while straining the pot and carefully plating the poached eggs.

You felt a little blush creep onto your cheeks, but you shrugged it off.

“Hey, don’t criticise the recent kidnappee,” you said and threw your hair from your shoulder.

Putting his hands up in surrender, Happy smiled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

- ✦ -

The day felt long yet short at the same time. So much had happened, and eventually you were glad for Happy’s company.

But you didn’t know what you wanted. Actually, that was a lie. You knew exactly what you wanted, you were just scared it wouldn’t come true. That everything had been misconstrued in your mind; the kiss – maybe it was a façade? A way to make the club feel like Jax was still in power. That even a helpless damsel who had just endured trauma would fall into his arms willingly.

But you knew the club; you knew the club brothers. And they knew you.

Surely they didn’t believe that? No…no they couldn’t.

Happy was watching you think these things, and he could see the deliberation cleanly on your face.

“You good?” He said after ten minutes of silence. The tv sounded in the background but Happy’s attention was solely on you.

The question was muffled, you were so deep in your thoughts that you couldn’t comprehend.

“Huh?” You replied. Dragging your eyes to meet Happy’s.

“Are you okay, Zo?” His question was heavy with concern. No light-heartedness like there was twenty minutes ago.

“I-,” the words were ready on your tongue but your voice ceased to make noise. This felt too … personal. Awkward. It felt exactly like talking to your brother about romance. So, how could you talk to Happy about this?

“If it’s because of last night; it was handled. If it was … the kiss, then you’re overthinking it.”

“What?” There was a snap in your voice. You felt a tad offended.

“The kiss, with Jax.” His face was stone, no humour in it at all.

“How can I not?” You said with furrowed brows and squinted eyes. You felt fire rise in your stomach, a want to aim your anger at someone.

“It was … Jax was … it meant something. To him, he wouldn’t just do that with anyone. Not after Tara.” Happy explained, with some difficulty. His voice caught on Tara’s name.

There was a beat of silence.

“But why in front of everyone? Why now?” You said quietly.

Another beat.

“I-I don’t have the answer. No one can really … get inside Jax’s head right now.” It was an admittance to more than just the situation between you and the man that held the gavel.

You sat back in your seat and rested your head against the back of the couch. Staring up at the ceiling, you let out a big sigh.

- ✦ -

When Happy left; around five in the afternoon, you got a message. In all honesty the alert from your phone gave you a freight.

You didn’t have that many contacts, and you mostly got messages from Skeeter. But it wasn’t, it was from Jax.

‘We need to talk,’ it read. And your heart dropped to your stomach.

It took you a while to respond. Thirty minutes of deliberating of what to say, and another ten thinking if you should respond at all.

Was now the time? For you maybe not. But for him … it was. You didn’t know this, but Jax needed to mend whatever it was between you. He needed to know where he stood. Because Jax couldn’t stop thinking about you.

All day he was being nudged on the arm by Tig.

“You good man?” He’d say, blue eyes firmly looking into his Presidents.

“…yeah,” was all he could reply. Because his romance didn’t seem of concern for the whole club. Funnily though, it was. And it was Chibs who told Jax to message you.

‘Okay, when and where?’

You hesitated a second before sending it. Your stomach churned as you waited for his response.

Luckily he didn’t need to deliberate as you, because his response was quick.

‘Can I come over in thirty minutes?’

God. The house was a mess. You looked like a mess. You hadn’t cared how Happy saw you (neither did he). At least Happy cleaned up after himself. But you still had to vacuum the dog hair and brush your own, maybe wash your face and put on some deodorant.

- ✦ -

Thirty minutes went by in a second.

And you heard a knock on the door.

Then your heart nearly exploded with how fast it was going.

“C-coming,” you called and put down the brush, racing from your bathroom to the front door. You waited a moment, to compose yourself, and then turned the handle.

Even though you knew he was coming, he still took your breath away.

Jax stood before you in a white shirt, his kutte, his baggy jeans and white shoes. His normal clothes. But somehow … he seemed different. Like he dressed just for you.

You could smell his cologne – it was freshly applied, his hair was slicked back and you noted the knife attached to him. You wondered how many times he had used that knife.

“Hey darlin’,” he said in a soft voice.

“Hello,” you said back in greeting, without a softness to it.

You stepped backward and to the side, motioning for him to come in.

“Thanks,” he muttered and stepped over the threshold. His shoes wiping on the mat.

You didn’t know the feeling of what this conversation would be, but you knew a drink wouldn’t hurt.

So, you walked into the kitchen and brought out a bottle of Rye and two glasses.

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kohanayaki · 2 years

Text

.:Survive the Tide:. (Eddie Munson x Reader) Ch 1

After discovering a portal to another dimension, infiltrating an underground secret Russian facility, and fighting literal monsters to save the world not once but twice, you'd think the bulk of your problems would be behind you. Enter: Eddie Munson. You thought you were done with long haired, leather jacket wearing men after dating Billy Hargrove, but Eddie seemed different. He was sweet, he was creative, he was honestly kind of a dork, and now he's convicted of murder. Needless to say, harboring a fugitive isn't exactly how you pictured your spring break going.

LINKS: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

___________________________________________________

Ch 1 .:Resurface:.

“The suspect we're currently in pursuit of is Eddie Munson. All Hawkins residents are advised to. . .”

No.

No, no, no.

The world seemed to close in around you; you felt your stare at the TV screen shift in and out of focus, the sound of your blood roaring in your ears drowning out anything else the deputy had to say. You refused to believe that Eddie could do something like this. Eddie, who drove you home when your 'friends' ditched you at a party. Eddie, who lent you his cassette collection and beamed like the sun when he found out you liked the same music. Eddie, who insisted on slowly leading a spider out of his trailer instead of crushing it despite being absolutely terrified. He couldn't have killed Chrissy.

But the officer was there on the screen, holding up a cropped yearbook photo of him in his Hellfire Club t-shirt.

And they said the body was nearly unidentifiable.

After Starcourt you tried your damnedest to return to normalcy, and for a time you thought you had. There were some days that almost felt like your life before you knew what really lied beneath Hawkins' skin. Then there were days like this, where it felt like the weight of the world was returned to your shoulders, a crushing sense of doom pressing down on your chest. You thought this year would be peaceful. Relatively, at least. But so much had changed in so little time. . .

~Six months ago~

The school cafeteria at Hawkins High was less like the shitty buffet it was meant to be, and more like a gladiator arena. Students flocked together in protective groups, quickly sweeping the grounds and claiming their territory, but never daring to get close to the center table. No, that was reserved for the court— the cheerleaders and the basketball team. You affiliated yourself with neither, so how was it that you came to be sitting there? Simple: Chrissy Cunningham.

The two of you had known each other since kindergarten, practically growing up at each others houses. Although you drifted apart as you got older, especially as she started dating Jason and you became friends with Steve's group, you could tell that she'd been having a hard time lately. With what, you wouldn't push to know, but you could tell she was grateful to have someone by her side that she could trust, and you were happy to be that someone after you saw how the rest of the cheer team treated her.

And so, for the last week or so you'd taken up residence at the center table to make sure she wasn't getting shit from anyone. You'd expected to get at least some kind of backlash from the cheer team, but they hardly paid you any attention. That was one of the perks of being a social drifter— you weren't part of the popular group, but you weren't targeted by them either.

The basketball players, however, were a different beast.

You groaned as you spotted Jason Carver making his way down the hallway with the majority of the varsity team. People parted like the red sea for him while he smiled and waved to the other students like he was the goddamn mayor.

His eyes lit up as he spotted Chrissy, striding over and practically pushing you out of your seat as he wedged himself between you to kiss her.

“How are you, baby?”

“I'm-”

“Great! Party at my place this Saturday,” he cut her off, that smile still plastered on his face as he handed her a neon orange flier, “It's to celebrate our win earlier this week, wear something pretty for me.”

“Oh, right,” Chrissy said, managing a nervous smile.

You, on the other hand, felt like slapping him. Chrissy didn't like parties because of how anxious they made her, something she's told him multiple times. If Jason noticed her uncomfortably fidgeting with the cuffs of her jacket, he showed no sign of being concerned about it. He just gave her another unnecessarily intimate kiss for a school lunch room before walking off to grab his food. You glared at the back of his head until he reached the end of the line, turning to Chrissy.

“Remind me why you're dating that asshole again?” you said quietly. Jason never necessarily did anything bad to you; he was always just sort of in the background when you hung out with Chrissy, but you couldn't stand the way he treated people.

“Y/n,” Chrissy sighed, “I know how he can get sometimes, but Jason’s your friend too.”

“No, you’re my friend and he’s your boyfriend, so I’m legally obligated to tolerate him,” you supplied, “not the same thing. Sitting at this table doesn't make me his friend. I'm here for you, Chris.”

“I know,” she said sheepishly, “thank you. . . I'm sure you'd rather be somewhere else.”

“What, and let you suffer here alone?” you grinned, “not a chance.”

Right on queue Jason came back with his food tray, shouldering passing students out of the way as he did. Just as he was about to sit down, what looked like a blur of black few past him, knocking him off balance and sending a few items on his tray toppling over. As the blur slowed to a stop and turned around, you were met with a student that was both familiar and unfamiliar.

His hair was the first thing you noticed, dark brown tresses teased to the gods and falling in loose waves around his face. A chain hung off his belt, clanking against the studs whenever he moved. He wore a ripped denim jacket with a multitude of pins and patches of bands you recognized, and a shit-eating grin on his face.

You felt like you knew him from somewhere.

“Sorry, man,” he said to Jason, his expression telling you that while he really hadn't meant to do it, he certainly wasn't sorry about it.

“Watch where you're fuckin' going, freak,” Jason snarled. He slammed his tray down, making Chrissy jump as he got in his face. The other man didn't back down, his grin only spreading as Jason turned red from the neck up.

“You stay the fuck away from here, you got it, Munson?” Jason glared.

Munson. That's where you knew him. You recognized him from the Hellfire Club yearbook picture Dustin carried around in his folder. This must be Eddie, the guy the kids basically idolized. Even though Jason was threatening him, Eddie looked thoroughly unbothered. The look in his eyes almost dared Jason to hit him; you could tell they've done this same song and dance before.

“Last I checked, everyone's allowed to eat food in the place the school makes us eat food in,” Eddie said, gesturing around to the room with his arms as he turned to leave. Jason lunged forward, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket.

“That's it-”

“Carver, would you take the one-sided dick measuring contest somewhere else, please?”

The whole table seemed to freeze at your words, their focus moving to you.

“What?” Jason said, his jaw taught and his grip still tight on Eddie's jacket.

“Give it a fucking rest,” you reiterated, “you're starting shit just to start it, and I'm trying to eat in peace for once.”

“He needs to learn some fucking respect-”

“It's a pudding cup, Carver. Pretty sure you'll make it through this.”

Eddie couldn't help but chuckle. Even a couple boys from the basketball team snickered at your words, though they were shut up quickly by Jason's stare snapping to them. Jason let out a harsh breath as he loosened his grip on Eddie, his cross-hairs slowly shifting to you.

Now it was the whole cafeteria whose eyes were on you two. You stared back at Jason, unyielding. Although you were the one sitting down, there was no question that you were playing on even ground. Unlike Jason, you had friends in nearly every clique at Hawkins High, so while most of the cheerleaders and basketball players were firmly on Jason's side, you knew there were plenty of others waiting for him to be put in his place.

“Maybe you should mind your damn business, (L/n),” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.

“I will when you stop treating everyone around you like shit,” you fired back, ice in your tone, “that includes your girlfriend.”

A chorus of rising murmurs spread through the space— some shocked, others anticipatory.

This sure was an arena, and the audience couldn't wait to see who slaughtered who.

Suddenly the shrill sound of the bell rang out through the cafeteria, and you almost laughed at the timing. The other students began to disperse, scattering off to their other classes. Eventually Jason was pulled away by another one of the basketball guys, and you packed up your things for your next class. Eddie saw the glimmer of victory in your eyes as you did.

He'd noticed you right away, standing out like a sore thumb in your David Bowie t-shirt and denim jacket among the sea of green and gold varsity uniforms. You confused him, but not in a bad way. You'd always stayed out of the way whenever Jason went on one of his stunts, what made you say something this time? It couldn't have been because of him, Eddie was 100% sure you didn't know he existed before today.

His pulse leaped into his throat as you turned around to meet his gaze, that gleam in your eyes not having left. You gave him a small smile before slinging your bag over your shoulder and disappearing into the wave of exiting students.

All right, so maybe you knew he existed now.

__________________________________________________

You sighed as you strode quickly down the hallway before school started next day. Although your eyes were trained on the open book in front of you, you could practically feel the eyes boring into you from all angles; and although your headphones drowned out the noise, you could tell they were whispering about you. Your stunt in the cafeteria had people talking, and honestly you found it stupid that they were making it such a big deal in the first place. Jason's never had anyone talk back to him, and for what? The fear of a little social backlash? To be fair, Freshman year you would have done anything to avoid getting on the popular crowd's bad side, but after surviving the horrors of the Upside Down, you knew at the very least you could handle Jason Carver's entitled-white-boy wrath. Near death experiences had a way of giving you a little perspective.

With a good twenty minutes before your first class started, you decided to take the time for yourself away from the prying eyes and shit-talking mouths for a little while. You stopped underneath one of the trees by the edge of the schoolyard, leaning against the trunk and relishing the shade for a moment. You slipped your backpack off and set it on the ground, about to sit down when you suddenly felt a tap on your shoulder. You jolted, looking to your side only to find no one there. You whipped your head around, but there was no one behind you either. That's when you saw a hand clad in silver rings come from above you and tap you on the shoulder again.

You let out a small yelp and staggered back, the movement making your headphones slide down to your shoulders. Heat rose to your cheeks as your music played outloud, and you quickly paused your walkman. A chuckle reached your ears, and you looked up to see Eddie lounging comfortably between two branches in the tree above you, his legs swinging freely beneath him.

“You trying to kill me, Munson?” you huffed, your heart pounding.

“Sorry about that, princess,” he said, that impish smile ever present on his face, “didn't mean to scare my savior, especially now that I know she listens to Ozzy. That's Secret Loser off his new album, right? Definitely didn't take you for the type.”

“Well what did you take me for?” you said, your arms crossing defensively despite the grin that tugged at your lips.

Eddie tilted his head, pretending to think about it.

“Hmm. . . somewhere at the intersection of preppy and weird art kid, so Kate Bush I guess?”

“Well I like her music too,” you said, “Shockingly, human beings can be multifaceted.”

“Well don't blame me for being surprised when most of the people here have about as much depth as a blow up pool,” Eddie jabbed.

“You include yourself in that?” you quirked a brow.

“Duh, look how I'm dressed.”

He was joking, but he wasn't totally wrong. He was wearing his Hellfire club t-shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms and exposing the tattoos you didn't realize he had. His hands were covered in thick silver rings, matching the chains hanging from his belt and his wrists. His black jeans were torn at the knees, and hanging off the branch next to where he sat was his denim vest and leather jacket with a picture of Dio's latest album cover printed across the back. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, or the fact that he genuinely didn't seem to care what other people thought of him, but you'd never realized how attractive he actually was.

“Could have just taken a picture for you,” Eddie said, snapping you out of your train of thought. You flushed as you realized how long you must have been blatantly staring at him. “Didn't know you were gonna size me up.”

“Just doing what you asked me to,” you said, sounding a lot more confident than you felt; a tactic that worked, if the blooming color in his cheeks was anything to go by.

“Every person has layers,” you finished your point, trying to get your heart rate under control.

“Not Jason Carver.”

“I said every person.”

Eddie laughed at that, the sound so warm and resonant you could almost feel it in your own chest. So much for your heart rate.

“Speaking of, never got to thank you for yesterday,” he said.

“Well, it was more about my not liking Carver than my concern and care for you, but I'll let you believe that,” you said playfully.

“Cold,” Eddie chuckled, swinging his legs over the branch and dropping to the ground, “Still, it takes guts standing up to the new king of Hawkins High,”

“With Jason it's more of a dictatorship, but thanks.”

“Well said,” he grinned, “starting an uprising against the dickish forces of the basketball team. Never would’ve seen it coming from (Y/n) (L/n), right hand of Steve Harrington.”

“First of all, never call me Steve's right hand again,” you scoffed.

Eddie was unable to hold back the string of surprised laughter that escaped his lips, not expecting the innuendo from you.

“And second, I only started hanging out with him after he stopped being an ass,” you finished.

“Right, got it,” Eddie said, tapping the side of his head, “. . . was I absent that day?”

You shot him a sharp look and he smiled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“He's sweet,” you defended your friend.

“In all my time at this school I've never heard the words 'Steve Harrington' and 'sweet' in the same sentence,” he said, “and I've been here for-”

“Ten years, I know.”

“Ha, ha,” Eddie deadpanned.

You laughed, your smile seemingly lighting you up from the inside, and Eddie found himself smiling along with you. He surprised himself with how natural your back and forth felt to him. You were usually hanging around Steve and Nancy or Billy, and more recently Robin— people whose social circles didn't really overlap with his own unless they were really trashed at a party. Of course he knew who you were, it was impossible not to know everyone in a small school like this, but this was the first time you'd ever had a real conversation; one that Eddie was enjoying more than he'd like to admit.

“Y'know, that's not the first time you've stood up for me,” he said after a short while.

“It's not?” you asked, raising a brow.

Eddie drew in a long breath, crossing his arms and shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“Ouch,” he smirked, “Think back, (L/n). Dive into that memory palace. Back to about 6th grade, middle school talent show. You sang a Journey song, and I. . .”

“Played guitar, holy shit!” you laughed, the moment now vividly pictured in your head.

Eddie beamed, his index finger ringing an imaginary bell above his head and his smile impossibly infectious.

“Ding ding ding! Well, you seem to remember my performance on a generally positive note, so I'll overlook you forgetting.”

“Can you blame me? You were bald back then.”

“Buzzed, thank you very much.”

“Bald in comparison,” you snorted, reaching up to push a few of the unruly strands out of his face. He swatted your hand away playfully, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair.

“But you do remember?” he covered quickly, “Jimmy Hathaway made fun of me after the show-”

“And I tripped him into the wet pavement outside,” you finished, heat rising to your face again as you recalled your temper as a child, even shorter than it was now.

“Exactly. You know, I bet the imprint from his fall is still on that sidewalk to this day,” Eddie mused, “a great tribute to your heroic deed.”

“Jimmy's parents sure didn't see it that way,” you said with that sly glimmer back in your eyes that made Eddie unable to look away, “something about me being in correspondence with the devil.”

“There any truth to that?”

“I don't know, haven't seen him in a while.”

Eddie laughed breathlessly, staring at you with something akin to amazement in his eyes and wondering why he hadn't ambushed you from a tree sooner.

“Too far?” you coughed out awkwardly.

“You kidding?” Eddie blinked as he came back to reality, “You're talking to the school freak here. To the general student body, no one's more 'in correspondence with the devil' than me.”

“What, because you're the grand warlock of your club or something?”

“Dungeon Master, actually,” Eddie corrected with a flourish.

“Kinky.”

You grinned as Eddie's face flushed immediately.

“That's not what it-”

“I know,” you chuckled, “I just wanted to mess with you.”

Eddie huffed indignantly, but did little to fight the upward quirk of his lips.

“So you actually know about D&D?”

“I practically babysat the boys when we were younger,” you told him, “I was there when they were still designing their characters and figuring out what campaign even was. Besides, who do you think picks them up from Hellfire? I'm not gonna trust any of those twerps with a car.”

“You're something else, (L/n),” he said.

“So you thought I'd be boring?” you joked.

“Nah, just thought you'd be meaner,” Eddie admitted with a smile, “especially after watching you rip Carver a new one.”

“Mean in a pretentious kind of way?”

“Mean in a pretty, popular girl kind of way.”

“I'm not that popular,” you said, avoiding the fact that he basically just called you pretty like the plague for your own sake, “I've only been sitting with those jerks because I'm friends with Chrissy.”

“Yeah, but people actually like you,” he said, meandering around the trunk of the tree, “That's gotta score you more points than sitting at some stupid table. You're at the top of the leaderboard compared to me.”

“You don't seem to care about it that much,” you said.

“Neither do you,” he pointed out.

“Fair enough.”

You turned to look him in the eyes and Eddie could have sworn his heart stopped for a second. It's not like he's never noticed how beautiful you were— it was blatantly obvious to anyone that saw you— but he considered you so far out of his league that he never even entertained the thought for more than a second. Honestly, he was shocked that you even gave him the time of day. You, who were friends with people like Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, and Chrissy Cunningham. Not people like the freak of Hawkins High who blasted Metallica from his beat-up van and ran a D&D club.

Your eyes were what kept him held fast. They almost seemed to glow; full of life and intelligence and mischief. He wondered how in the hell you were able to be so bright after last year. He'd heard you'd been inside Starcourt Mall when the explosions went off, and he knew although you and Billy Hargrove had a falling out the semester before he died, you cared for him in some way. But somehow that light inside you still seemed intact, always ready with a quick comeback or a witty joke, and he had no idea how you did it.

Eddie realized that the whole time his brain had been scrambling, you'd still just been looking at him. When he came back down to earth you seemed to notice, a small chuckle rising in your chest. Your gaze held his so gently, and there was something about the contact that made him feel oddly at ease. As he racked his brain for what it was, he realized that you didn't look at him like everyone else did: like you were trying to figure him out. You were just taking him as he was.

You shifted your weight slightly, your teeth catching your bottom lip out of nervous habit, a movement Eddie used every ounce of his willpower not to look down at. Then, just as you opened your mouth to say something, the morning bell rang, the sound considerably less welcome than it was yesterday in the cafeteria.

You wanted to slam your head into the trunk of the tree. Of course.

“Well this was-”

“I should probably-”

You both laughed softly as your words overlapped.

“I'll, uh. . . see you around,” Eddie said, grabbing his jacket from the tree.

You smiled, slinging your bag over your shoulder and picking up your abandoned book.

“Is that a promise?” you teased.

“Swear it on my grandmother's grave,” Eddie said, raising his left hand with his right over his heart, “She's still alive, but you get the point. Planning ahead.”

You laughed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, a sound Eddie was determined to be the cause of again.

“I'll hold you to that, Dungeon Master.”

Read Chapter 2 Here !

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emotionalcadaver · 8 months

Text

Part 12: Fashionably Late

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Robert Fischer x OC

Summary: They need to get ready soon, unless they want to be late.

Word Count: 1,474

Notes: Warnings for depictions of sexual content.

Masterlists: Main • Series

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“Which one for tonight?” Robert emerged from the door of the walk in closet, a hanger dangling from each hand. He was quite a sight, standing there in just his boxers, hair all ruffled with two extremely expensive suits in each hand. Alice sat up from where she had been lounging in the bed, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at him. The collar of Robert’s t-shirt, an old, incredibly worn one that she was pretty sure was from back when he was in college, slipped precariously off one of her shoulders at her movement. She eyed the suits and oh, it was incredibly unfair of him to make her choose between those two in particular.

The first was a lovely dark pinstripe. It made him look sleek and powerful. And the warm hued maroon or purple ties he often paired with it brought out the warm tones of his hair. She narrowed her eyes, head tilted to the side as she tried to remember the last time she had seen him wear it. Was it that trip they had taken to Japan a few months ago? Yes, that seemed right. He had worn it on the plane only to strip the jacket off halfway through the flight, smirking at her when he caught her practically drooling over the white button down, tie, and suspenders he had been sporting underneath.

The second suit was charcoal gray, double breasted, and did a lovely job of hugging the trim, lean lines of his body. Robert often wore it paired with the light blue tie that brought out the piercing color of his eyes. Alice had a pretty, lacy blue dress she could wear that would match it nicely.

The last time she had seen that suit, it had been crumpled up in a heap on the floor of their hotel room in France, her head thrown back in pleasure while Robert thrusted frantically into her on the massive king sized bed.

Whatever suit she picked, she was thoroughly doomed to spend the better part of the evening wanting to climb him like a tree.

“The charcoal one,” she said finally. Robert smirked, turning to hang the pinstripe suit back in the closet, setting the double breasted charcoal one down on the chair. “And wear the light blue tie with it?” she leaned back and stretched, not missing the way his eyes raked over the strip of bare abdomen that was revealed when his shirt rode up at her movements.

“Of course.”

She kicked the blankets away, moving to get out of bed, but he had already moved to stand in front of her, hands sliding through her hair before he caressed her jaw and tilted her head up to kiss her. Alice sighed happily against his lips, allowing her hands to frame his hips and draw him in closer to her. His chest was warm when it pressed against her, the scent of his cologne all around her. Lips parted from each other only for him to earnestly pepper kisses over her jaw and neck before he stopped, allowing his head to rest with his face buried in her neck for a moment before he sighed.

“If we don’t get dressed now, we’ll be late,” it was already late afternoon, and they had to get ready and then drive all the way across town to where the gala venue was.

“Mmhm,” but she made no move to get up or push him away, only stroking her fingers through his soft hair, leaning closer when his thumb began to rub circles into the bare skin of her hip. Robert’s breath was warm against her shoulder. Alice pecked a kiss to the side of his head and he whined, borrowing closer against her.

“I don’t want to go,” he leaned back and pouted at her. She laughed, tracing her thumb over his bottom lip.

“I’ll fake a headache or something a few hours in, insist that you take me home,” it wouldn’t be the first time one of them had faked an illness to get out of a boring business gala. He nuzzled closer to her, those beautiful piercing eyes so soft and adoring that it made her heart ache.

“You’re my favorite,” he insisted, kissing her shoulder and peering up at her sweetly. “What?”

Alice shook her head and smiled. “Nothing. You’re pretty,” she leaned in to press a kiss to his nose. “And you’re my favorite too.”

The little blush that spread over his cheeks was incredibly cute. Warm fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt. “I like you in my clothes.”

She didn’t have time to really process the slight growl in his voice before he was kissing her again, and then his mouth was pressed back to her neck, kissing there softly, and then more roughly, hands beginning to push up the t-shirt covering her body.

“Robbie,” she breathed out warningly, pleadingly, even as she arched her back and let him crawl over her, pressing her firmly into the mattress. “Sweetheart, we’re going to be late,” she giggled as his lips ticked the sensitive skin of her shoulder, his palms warm as they smoothed against her sides.

“Don’t care,” he mumbled back. Snorting, she wound her arms around him, his body slotting perfectly between her legs, warm. His mouth found hers again hungrily, shirt half pushed up her body, hands rubbing up and down before squeezing at her waist.

“Honey, we really should get ready…” she mumbled, even as her legs lifted to wrap around his hips and pull him closer, moaning as she felt the beginnings of an erection already growing in his boxers. “Okay. Okay, seriously,” she laughed as she pulled back. “Stop. We’ve got to get ready.”

He pulled back from her immediately, rolling off to lay on his side next to her on the bed, head half propped up with one hand.

“You’re right,” he said, fingertips reaching out to stroke her cheek.

“What?” she asked, head cocking. It wasn’t like he was normally excited to go to galas, but he didn’t usually drag his feet or pout as intently as he was this time.

“Nothing. I just…” he sighed, rolling over to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling. “Sometimes I wish that we didn’t have to worry about any of this.”

“What? The company?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, forearm resting upon his head. “There are times where I wonder what it would be like if we just, I don’t know…” he trailed off, biting his lip. Alice rested her palm on the center of his chest.

“Ran away together?”

He laughed, softly. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“I don’t think that there’s anywhere we could go where Maurice wouldn’t be able to find us.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

“But…if you ever wanted to give running away a shot…” she smiled gently, “I’d go with you.”

The back of his hand stroked her cheek. “I love you.”

She kissed the center of his palm. “I love you too.”

His thumb petted her bottom lip, before he huffed and pulled away, standing and going over to the suit he’d had her pick out, resigning himself to preparing for the dreaded event. Alice stared at his pale back; the light freckles dusting across his skin, lean muscles moving in his shoulders as he started to fumble with the suit. Swinging her legs off the bed, she rose quietly and padded over to him, arms wrapping around his waist while she kissed one of his shoulder blades.

“Look at me,” she said, quietly, turning him around to face her. Robert’s baby blue eyes blinked at her owlishly as she stretched up on her toes and kissed him. “I know work’s been hard, lately,” she told him, feeling the knots in his shoulders as her fingers ran along his back. “It’ll be okay.”

“Mm,” he swallowed hard, nodding as his head dropped to nuzzle at her. “Thanks, Al.”

“Mhm,” she stroked his hair, pressing her lips to his cheek, then his jaw, down his neck.

“What’re you doing?” he asked with a small laugh as her hands ran over his naked chest. Alice just hummed against his pale throat.

“Nothing,” she purred innocently.

“Uh huh,” he chuckled, hands landing on her hips while she began to suck his neck. Using the tip of a finger, he tilted her chin up, kissing her deeply once her head was angled upwards. He moaned softly against her lips as she pressed closer, palms spread out over his chest. And then his hands were on her ass, gripping her tight and hoisting her up onto his hips, carrying her back towards the bed without even breaking the kiss.

In the end, they were very, very late getting to the gala.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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#robert fischer #robert fischer x oc #inception #fashionably late #my ocs #my fanfiction #alice emerson #alice emerson x robert fischer

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terrestrialnoob · 1 year

Text

“I bet we can get a reservation at The Orchard,” Kim suggested.

Ron nodded, “Yeah, I guess it has been a while since we went to, like, a really nice place.”

“So, as long as nothing world ending happens between now and Saturday-”

Just as Km said it, her locker beeped and as she opened it, the computer she kept in it flickered on showing Wade in his usual place, looking slightly nervous. Wade being nervous was never a good thing.

“Hey Wade, what’s the sitch?”

“Hey Kim,” Wade said, but his voice wavered a little as he asked, “I was wondering if I could get a favor from Ron.”

“Not me?” Kim asked immediately.

“Ron’s more the style I’m looking for.”

“Ron’s style?” Kim asked incredulously, but Ron put his hand on her shoulder.

“I get it Wade, whatever you need, I got it covered.”

“Thanks.” Wade’s image on Kim’s locker computer switched to a photo from Wade’s last family reunion, all the kids of five aunts and uncles and six more older cousins in one shot. A red circle blinked into existence at the edge of the photo, around Wade and a slightly older kid standing next to him with his hand on Wade’s shoulder wearing a red beret and thick black rimmed glasses. “This is my cousin, Tucker. He and his friends are coming to visit Middleton this weekend for the science convention.”

“Wait, cousin Tucker? The Cousin Tucker?” Ron nearly shoving Kim out of the way of the locker to get a better look at the photo.

Kim rolled her eyes then asked, “Is he a big deal?”

“Uh, cheah,” Ron said, letting Kim back in front of the locker, “He helped Wade design your battle suit!”

“That’s the one,” Wade said, “He gave me the idea to make it, and he has a lot of experience working on high-powered combat jumpsuits. Really, he did most of the designing part of it; I just did all the hard work of actually making it.”

“Really? High-powered combat jumpsuits is something someone can have a lot of experience with?” Kim asked, but it did make sense. She had been a bit surprised that Wade had come up with the battle suit; he’s a gadget guy, not a suit guy. And there wasn't a shortage of teenage geniuses in the world.

“Yeah, he's awesome, and his friends?” Wade said, and an image came onto the screen of a teenage girl with dyed black hair. She wore a black tank top with a purple bat in the center of the chest and unattached long bell sleeves along with a black and green plaid miniskirt over torn black tights. Her knee high boots had thick blocky souls that made her at least four inches taller and were covered in straps and metal. In the photo, she was leaning on a wall pointing at a horror movie poster next to her. “This is Sam Manson, she was the top, the number one, Doomed player in the world, and right now, she’s top ten in the sequel, Eternal Torment, and money’s on her to break top five within the month.”

“Eternal Torment!” Ron shouted, getting strange looks from others in the hall, but he didn’t care, “The online video game that’s so hard 50% of all players rage quite before finishing it?”

“That’s a myth, it’s closer to 32% and lowering with the new patches, but yes, that’s the one.”

“Woah,” Ron basically had heart eyes as he stared at the goth gamer girl, and Kim wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t.

“What about this guy?” Kim asked, other photos of Wade’s cousin and his friends had come up, usually with three people, Tucker, Sam, and the one Kim was pointing at now. He had naturally black hair and bright blue eyes, and while Tucker's and Sam’s outfits changed in every image, he seemed to wear the same torn jeans, NASA t-shirt, and red hoodie in everything he was in. Though, there were a few of him that had a kind of grainy distortion over them, kind of made him look like he had pointed ears, or shark teeth, or glowing eyes.

“That’s Danny Fenton, and he’s cool but kinda… strange,” Wade pulled up some newspaper articles where Dr.’s Fenton cause havoc in a small town in Iowa, professional ghost hunters whose inventions go awry and destroy buildings; and Danny himself seemed to have a public feud with the Mayor of his town and there was a magazine article about how he discovered that the Amity Park Zoo’s purple-back gorilla was female. “Yeah, he’s a bit all over the place and hard to get a read on. But, he does like space and rocket science. And, Tucker said that Danny's family is the one that makes a lot of high-powered combat jumpsuits. Apparently, Dr.'s Fenton only wear high-powered combat jumpsuits.”

Ron nodded along, then asked, “This is all fascinating Wade, but why are you telling us all this?”

“Well,” Wade rubbed his neck nervously, “When Tucker said he was visiting and going to the convention, I kinda said that I was also planning on going with my friends… My IRL friends. I wanted him to think I was cool, and he knows I have a hard time making offline friends, but I didn’t want him to think I was a loser. So…”

“So you need a living breathing friend to go with! Sure thing, buddy. I’m free- oh, no, wait,” Ron pointed between him and Kim, “we were just talking about going on a nice date this weekend.”

Kim waved her hand dismissively, “It’s fine, we can stop somewhere for dinner after the convention.”

“We?”

Kim nodded and looked at Wade in her locker, “My dad’s a rocket scientist, I bet at least Danny will think I’m cool, and I bet Sam will like having another girl there to talk to.”

“She does tend to get along with everyone,” Ron said, “Except for Bonnie… and Drakken, but they’re both supervillains, so I don’t think that’s a point against her.”

Wade smiled, “Thanks Kim. I’ll send you guys info on the convention and where to meet.”

“Ten-four, Wade, we’ll see you there.” Kim said and closed her locker as Wade logged off.

“You really think this’ll be fun?” Ron asked, “Or are you just being nice for Wade?”

“No, I like hanging out with Wade, and you know,” Kim shrugged awkwardly, “What are the chances of there being a mad scientist bent on world domination at the convention?”

“With our luck? 100%” Ron said, with all seriousness before breaking into chuckles. “Now, school’s out and mission’s not till the weekend, that means it’s Bueno Nacho time!”

#danny phantom #kim possible #fanfic #crossover #dp x kp crossover #this is it #this is all I got #I got nothing else for the crossover #please take this and run where ever you want to with it

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

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Word of Superheroes P.3 | Tenth Doctor Miniseries (DW x Marvel Crossover)

Takes place after the events of The Avengers

Read P.1 P.2 | DW Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Tenth Doctor x female!avenger!reader (romantic), Donna Noble, Nick Fury, The Avengers

Content warnings: light angst, sadness, ends in fluff, profanity. | Female reader (she/her) | wc: 4k

Premise: It was a simple plan: get energy from the Tesseract, power the Tardis, and go home to the universe they belonged—all with the help of a few superheroes who can match the genius intelligent the Doctor has. What was not the plan, was for a bond to form between the Time Lord and the Ice Princess which would only end in heartbreak. And goodbyes are never easy.

—————————————————

“You have my shawarma, princess?” Was the first thing Y/n heard as she led the Doctor and Donna into the lab. They were in awe at the scale of it, paying no mind to the two men standing across the room. The one wearing an AC/DC shirt slumped in disappointment when he saw she wasn’t holding a to-go container. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Y/n glared, “Get it yourself, Stark. Were you not just out a moment ago?” Before he could answer, she cut him off with a wave of the hand and pointed to him and Banner. She stopped in the middle putting a few feet between them so she could introduce her guests. “Doctor, Donna, let me introduce you to some other geniuses this world has to offer. Mr. Tony Stark,” Tony waves a hand, albeit confused while Y/n continues, “And Dr. Bruce Banner.”

“Hello,” Banner waved a hand, wondering who the hell they were and why they were in his lab. “Who—.”

“I’m getting to that, Bruce. Boys, this is the Doctor—yes it’s what he calls himself, no I don’t think he’s a medical professional or PhD holder like us—and this is his companion Donna Noble.”

“Hi.”

“Hello!”

Tony, blinking out of his confused state, moves toward the two. “Huh, so that’s what Fury was moaning about earlier. Couldn’t really hear over the stereo, so what’s the deal here?” Immediately the excitement filled her demeanor.

“You boys will never believe this—.”

“Didn’t we just fight aliens last week?”

“Okay, you got a point. But this is a whole other level. These two,” her finger snaps toward the Doctor and Donna, “are legitimately from another universe.” The whole lab goes quiet with Tony dropping the granola bar he had in his hand. They stand there and stare, processing the words their colleague had spoken.

“W-what—y-you—you’re joking, right?”

Y/n smirks, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at the Doctor. “I ran a test on their blood. Hers is human, but there’s differences in her biological makeup compared to ours. With him I couldn’t even get a reading.”

“Why’s that?” Banner wondered aloud.

“Because he’s an alien. From the planet Gallifrey, you say?” When the Doctor nods, Y/n continues, “The planet is not on our records, but his anatomy is similar to us—minus the two hearts.” Tony chokes on his own saliva, “T-two hearts.”

The Doctor gestures to his chest, “would you like to listen?”

Tony makes a face, “I’ll pass. So what’s the job for us? Surely you two being from another universe does not do good for space and time—I take it impending doom is on the horizon?” The Doctor is impressed by the superhero. Usually he’s the smartest in the room. Looks like he’s got competition being among three of this Earth’s geniuses, who happen to also be superheroes.

“More or less,” he finally says, the tone of his voice implying they were in fact doomed. Tony and Banner glance at each other, before connecting eyes with the Ice Princess.

“Looks like we got work to do.”

“Already on it, Boss.”

It took 24 hours just to condense the energy left over from the Tesseract. When they successfully managed a prototype, the team—minus Donna who made herself comfortable in one of the Tower’s many lounges—decided to test it on something similar to the scale of the Tardis.

They had yet to crack the code of time travel, but they at least could open a portal to another location. And that was the best they could start with.

During the days leading to the test run, the Doctor found himself close to the Ice Princess’s side. They worked on establishing a model on how to power the Tardis with the energy while Tony and Bruce worked on condensing it.

“So MIT graduate and military physicist turned ice forming superhero,” The Doctor muses while watching Y/n carefully measure the lining of sheet metal to create their machine. “How does that happen?”

There’s a chuckle from the scientist, adjusting their goggles. “Well, for starters I was working with a team on how to advance the technology on regulating cold temperatures in space for our astronauts on board of the ISS. During the demonstration I got locked in the compartment. Our system was designed to automatically fill the airlock with temperatures rivaling that of minus one hundred degrees Celsius. I should’ve died.” The Doctor frowns, seeing the haunted look in her eyes.

She shakes her head and drills in the sheet metal before turning it off and removing the goggles. “I don’t even remember the feeling—I was just numb. It was so cold that I pretty much passed out. It should’ve frozen me entirely to the point my heart stopped. When I came to, my supervisor and team couldn’t believe what they were seeing.”

“How did you know you had powers?” Was the Doctor’s next question, keeping his attention fully on her.

The memory must’ve been painful because Y/n grimaced. He nearly took back the question, but then she explained, “Everyone could barely touch me already with how cold my body was. Then I tried drinking some water and it froze over. Next thing I know there were little icicles hanging off my ears and nose.” She pauses, rubbing her lip with her thumb. “Our government doesn’t like enhanced individuals—despite us having the advantage to literally save the world. Word got around to higher ups about what happened to me and the small incidents. There was an order to take me out.”

The Doctor could barely contain his reaction. There was an immediate sense of anger. How could the government want to kill someone because they were gifted with abilities? It made no sense to him. Surely they’d want to learn more and have them to their advantage. It made him wonder how the Avengers even came to be.

“I had a very close friend on my team back when I was a physicist. She warned me after overhearing the supervisor get off the phone with the Army’s head general. I tried to get the hell out of there but the squad they sent found. The adrenaline and fear of being shot to death literally caused my entire body to turn to ice. It threw the squadron off—thinking it was their imagination, and I escaped. I was on the run for a long time before S.H.I.E.L.D found me.”

For a while Y/n and the Doctor talked as they worked. She spoke of her first years in S.H.I.E.L.D, learning to develop her power while also being a leading scientist for the organization, and about the other Avengers. The Doctor learned Tony was the man they kept seeing flying to and from the tower in his red iron suit—which the Doctor was in awe of and wanted to see up close. After learning a bit about Bruce and his alternate personality, the Hulk, the Doctor could sense Y/n deeply related to him—having experienced being on the run from the government in order to survive.

He had yet to meet Steve Rogers, or Captain America as she called him. Then there was Thor and the Doctor had to refrain from mentioning how he had a run in with his universe’s Thor on his travels to Asgard many decades prior. Lastly there were the two master assassins Black Widow and Hawkeye. They had passed by the lab one day and waved to Y/n before looking at the Doctor with suspicion.

“Well that’s enough about what my life and world has to offer,” Y/n huffs when they reach close to four o’clock. She’d been talking for close to two hours. “Tell me about yours.”

“Oh, there’s not really much,” he said nonchalantly, trying to brush it off as to not explain his past. “I’ve been traveling for so long—seen so many worlds and met so many people. I could tell stories for days.” A flash of longing and wonder was seen in Y/n’s eyes, but she quickly turned away.

“Tell me about one of them.”

One story turned into two, and before they knew it midnight was rolling around and the Doctor had told the Avenger not even a fraction of his adventures. Several had her giggling like a maniac, though there were some where she frowned the whole time like when he talked about losing his companions.

“If it hurts so much to lose them, Doctor, why do you keep having them?”

It was a good question. One the Doctor asked himself everyday. He loved his companions—all in their own unique way. Each time he took one there was a tragic end. Well all except Martha. She was the only one who left on her own accord.

“Because I want to share my adventures with others,” he lied, though it hurt him too. Lying to Y/n felt unnatural, but admitting the truth was something he still couldn’t do. “I love seeing how their eyes light up with every new adventure. Many of them were just waiting for the opportunity to arise. I love being able to give them that.”

The expression Y/n was giving him hinted she could see past his lie. But she didn’t comment on it, instead going back to focus on the prints they laid out. A minute passed before she said, “I think we’ve been at work enough today. Maybe it’s time to call it a night, Doc.” Agreeing, the two pack it up and leave the lab with the Doctor heading to his guest room on the 42nd floor while Y/n goes to her reserved floor.

While he laid in his bed staring up at the ceiling, the Doctor became lost in his thoughts and feelings. There was no denying he felt the familiar sense of companionship from Y/n like he did with his other companions. But deep down there was something more, or the feeling of something that could be more. ‘She’s from this universe,’ he sighed internally, lifting the sheet to cover himself. It dawned on him they were close to their time coming to an end. His hearts were feeling the loss before it was even there. ‘I can’t take her with me. No matter how much I want her to come.’

When the day of the test run came days later—almost a week to the day the Doctor and Donna landed in the parallel universe, he almost didn’t want to do it. Doing so and having it work successfully meant it was time for them to power up the Tardis and leave. He was still having to come to terms with it.

It was obvious to Donna when the Doctor started acting weird and looking sad about their impending departure she put two and two together. “You like her!”

“W-what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried to play it off.

“Don’t be daft, you impossible man!” She shouted, causing him to shush her with wide eyes.

“Keep your voice down!”

“So it is true?” She mused this time in a low voice. “You fancy the Ice Princess.”

Walking away, the Doctor grabbed the notebook with his calculations and headed to the elevator where they were to meet with Fury, Bruce, Tony, and Y/n. “I have an admiration for her intellect and have come to enjoy my company with her. That doesn't mean I like her, Donna.”

The redhead couldn’t help but scoff, matching behind him and pressing the button to the floor they needed to go to. “That’s exactly what fancying someone is—or have you forgotten what it’s like to have a crush on someone?”

The Time Lord stayed silent. Romantic feelings were a sore subject and something he wanted to avoid at all costs going forward. What happened with Rose still haunted him. It would kill him to care for someone to that extent again only to lose them.

“It’s not a good idea, Donna,” he turns away from her, keeping his focus on his converse. In the corner of his eyes he sees her frown, waiting for an explanation. “We came here to fix the Tardis so we can go home. That’s what we’re here to do. Getting involved with someone from this universe would not be smart.”

Realizing what he was saying, Donna pulls her lips into a thin line and leans back against the elevator. The rest of the ride is in silence. There was the unspoken reality they would soon face.

He was right. Making connections of any form would end badly for the faint of heart.

When they entered the lab the others were waiting for them. Fury and Hill were speaking with Tony while Y/n and Bruce finished up the last calculations.

“Good you guys made it,” she smiled, causing the Doctor's hearts to skip. Instead of her usually S.H.I.E.L.D issued suit, Y/n was wearing a white lab coat over some black tights and MIT hoodie.

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” he smiled back, stopping beside her to look at the scene around them. The machine they designed sat in the middle facing the model holding a glowing blue substance in its compartment. Bruce and Tony had successfully managed to take energy from the Tesseract and use it as a power source.

“Tony is giving a run down to Nick,” she pointed to the trio standing not too far away. “We’ll get started once they finish. Then once we have a successful demonstration you guys will be on your way.” There was a change in her tone at the last few words. It made the Doctor believe she was just as sad as he was.

“Brilliant!” He acted as though nothing was wrong, noticing how she turned away to shield her expression. It pained him, but it was inevitable given the situation.

The clapping of hands caught their attention, “Okay people let’s get this show on the road!” Tony stood behind the panel with Banner while the others stood a good distance away. Buttons were pressed, the lights went dark and to be safe Tony had the windows covered with steel in case worse comes to worse and they blew the place up.

“Diagnostics look good,” Banner announced while flicking switches. “Everything's adding up. Calculations……yeah it all looks like what we predicted. Time to power it on.” With that being said, Y/n walked over to the model and switched on the device. Immediately the blue color went brighter.

Everyone held their breath, the woman returning to the Doctor's side as they watched Tony and Bruce complete the last sequence. A buzzing had few gasps when the compartment shot a stream of blue energy directly to the machine. Before their eyes, a portal showing the bottom level of the tower appeared.

“Holy smokes!” The Doctor whisper-shouted beside Y/n. A smile radiating excitement and success shined on her.

“It worked!” She fist bumped the air, laughing when some of the workers peaked through the portal. “Sorry to disturb your day. Don’t mind us—just fixing a problem.” Tony and Bruce high-fived, motioning for Y/n to join them which she happily skipped over to hug the two.

Closing the portal, the blue light faded letting the machine power off. The energy still glowed from the model but was contained and gave no indication it was about to burst.

“Ha-ha!” The Doctor cheered, bringing Donna into a hug causing her to stumble by the sudden gesture. When they let go he ran to Y/n and did the same, making the woman giggle as he spun her. “That was brilliant!”

As the group celebrated, a certain Director stood frozen with his attention still on the machine where the portal had appeared. With a shake of his head, he muttered four simple words, “Well I’ll be damned.”

Not even a few hours later the team was assembling all the needed equipment and making their way down to the level holding the Tardis. It should have been a happy scenario. The Doctor was happy to be getting back to his universe and making sure the crack they fell through was fixed. But he felt sad to say goodbye. It was always the hard part of traveling the cosmos.

“How long will it take to power up?” Y/n asked, handing over the vial containing the energy. Taking it in his hands, the Doctor offers a shrug.

“Oh it depends. Could be a few minutes—maybe more. I’ll pop it in and see.” Not knowing what else to say, he nods and walks over to the Tardis doors. When he unlocks them he turns back to the woman. “Would you like to see inside?”

Y/n’s eyes light up, as if she had been waiting for him to ask. Keeping her excitement contained she followed behind him. Usually when the Doctor invites someone in he already knows how they’re going to react so he doesn’t bother to watch their reaction. With Y/n, he keeps his gaze on her the whole time.

The reaction she gives is like many the Doctor has seen before. There’s disbelief, shock, and awe all mixed into one. Eyes travel over every inch of the room, taking it in piece by piece. “Wow,” she breathes out, gaze falling back onto the Doctor with a grin so wide it makes him mirror it. “This is unbelievable! How—?”

“My people were an extraordinary race,” he says solemnly, watching her expression drop and turn to one of sympathy.

“Were?”

He nods, moving to the control panel to place the vial where it needed to go. “Long story. To put it simple, I’m the last of the Time Lords.” His back was to Y/N, therefore he couldn’t see her reaction. By her silence he assumed she was processing what he said.

A beeping sound followed by the lights turning on around them signaled they were successful. With a tight smile, the Doctor mumbled, “There you are, girl. Welcome Back.” Another beep filled his ears, as if the Tardis was responding to him.

“Well,” he stood straight. “You surely have quiet the addition to your resume, Ms. L/n.” The joke had her chuckling, though there was a lingering sadness to it.

“I’ll be sure to add it first thing in the morning.”

While the Tardis continued to power up, the Doctor and Y/n stood there. Both were unsure what to say, knowing this would be the last time they spoke. Fury already sent his regards, saying he needed to get back to DC for urgent matters. Tony and Bruce were waiting outside. They could hear Donna thanking them for everything they’ve done.

Now it was time for the two to part ways. Y/n was the first to speak, “What’s your universe like?”

“Oh it’s beautiful,” the Doctor replied with a smile. “Very much like yours. Our Earth has experienced quite a few alien invasions—but we don’t have superheroes to save the day.”

“That’s because they have you,” she winks, causing him to blush lightly.

“Oh, I’m no hero.” That word was something the Doctor could never think of himself as. Yes he’s saved many people and Earth a handful of times, but he’s done a lot of harm along the way. In his eyes, he’d be more of a villain than a hero.

“What makes you say that?” She asks, but doesn’t let him answer. “From what Donna told me, you’ve changed so many lives across your universe for the better.”

The Doctor shakes his head, frowning when he replies, “I’ve also ruined plenty.” He thinks back to Rose, Martha, Sarah Jane and so so many others. “I’ve caused pain to those I cared about.” The look she gives him is sympathetic, like she can understand.

“Everything has a cost. Big or small and that’s the price we have to pay. As long as the decisions we make are the right ones, we can only move forward instead of dwelling on the past.” The words lingered in the otherwise silent Tardis, filling the Doctor with a sudden emotion. It would stay with the Doctor for the rest of his life. Anytime he’d feel down and question his actions, he would remember Y/n’s words and know it was for the best.

Minutes passed and soon the Tardis was at its full power. Sighing Y/n smiles sadly at the Doctor. “I guess this is it then, Doctor.”

“I’m afraid so,” he agrees, letting his hands go into his pockets. Contemplating his next words, he lets them flow although they wouldn’t make a difference. “I wish you could come with us. I could show you so many worlds and civilizations.” ‘But you can’t’

“That sounds amazing,” there’s longing in her voice. Wanting to jump at the sound of an adventure. Unfortunately, fate wasn’t on their side. “But, this universe needs me. Just like yours needs you, Doctor.”

He sniffs, attempting to disregard the emotion flowing in him. “I know. If only jumping through universes didn’t mean a rip through space and time.” She laughs, despite it coming out almost like a sob.

“If only,” she repeats in a whisper. Feeling a wave of courage, Y/n stepped up to the Doctor—confusing him—and lightly kissed his cheek. Pulling away, she smiled at the red coating his cheek. “You’re an impossible man, Doctor. I’ll never forget you.”

Taking her hand and squeezing it, the Doctor looks into her eyes with admiration. “And I shall never forget you, Miss. Y/n L/n.” Surprising the woman, the Doctor pulls her into a hug. She returns it with open arms and they stay there for a few seconds before the sound of Donna approaching has them pulling away.

“Goodbye, Doctor.” She tells him one last time, offering one last smile. He returns it, nodding to the Avenger who he’d remember until his time of traveling the universe came to an end. “Goodbye, Y/n.”

One Year Later

It had been weeks since the Doctor had probably one of the worst days of his long extended life. The Daleks stole dozens of planets impending another universal disaster, he got to see Rose again only to let her go once more, and finally he made the difficult decision to wipe Donna’s memory after she took on part of his mind.

Every time the Doctor was feeling down he thought back to what Y/n told him during their last meeting. In the beginning he had difficulty accepting he made the best decision. Once again he ruined the life of someone he cared about, but the fate Donna would’ve met had he not would haunt him forever.

It still took time for the wound to heal. They all did.

Now here he was strolling across the campus of MIT. There was no reason for the visit other than wanting to see the prestigious university. Nothing was out of the ordinary or drew suspicion. It was a beautiful day and the Doctor felt like popping in to take a stroll around campus.

Students and faculty passed by him from all angles. Some had their eyes glued to their phones, others flipping through loose pages of notes, and a few chatting with whoever was walking beside them. Passing a courtyard, the Doctor spotted several groups of students sitting around reading books and eating together.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was out and few clouds roamed the sky. Birds chirped and cars honked when drivers cut each other off. The Doctor quickly ran across the crosswalk to avoid getting hit when he realized he started walking when the sign was still ‘Do Not Cross.’

After he made one full trip and returned to his starting point, the Doctor stood in the middle of a walkway in front of one of the many buildings. Hands on his hips, the Time Lord was lost in his thoughts trying to figure out where the hell he had parked the Tardis. “I could’ve sworn I parked it here,” he scratched his head before bringing it to hold his chin. “Where did I—.”

“Excuse me, Sir,” a feminine voice sounded behind him. It made him freeze, for the voice was too familiar.

‘It can’t be,’ he thought to himself, not yet turning around. There was no doubt he appeared strange to any passerby. But maybe to those who attended/worked at MIT figured he had forgot where he was going.

He didn’t want to believe it was her alternate self. It had been a year, but the Doctor thought about Y/n almost everyday. Their time was short but it left a lasting impact on the traveler. So bad did he wish she could’ve came with him when he left her universe. After what happened with Donna, the Doctor found himself missing her more.

“Are you lost?” She asked, confirming his suspicions on how he appeared to her. Slowly, the Doctor took a deep breath and turned to face the woman. Although he tried to control his reaction, he couldn’t help but let out a tiny gasp as he started back into the soft y/e/c eyes he missed.

Y/n’s alternate self looked exactly light her—from head to toe. She was wearing a casual yet fashionable white cotton dress with a tan coat and boots. In one hand was a briefcase, while the other carried some folders and books. She appeared to be the same age, though the Doctor could guess she was roughly a year or two older than the Y/n he left behind.

“Sir?” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, realizing he was staring. Blinking fast the man apologized, “S-sorry. I-um—sorry.” She gave him a small smile.

“It’s alright. I asked if you were lost. You seem to be looking as though you forgot where you were going.”

“Oh right,” he laughed nervously, turning away to hide his blush. “I’ve just misplaced something—uh my vehicle you could call it.” He cursed himself at the chosen description. It didn’t help she tilted her head, confusion etched in her gaze.

“You forgot where you parked?” The only thing he could do really was nod. He watched her glance around the place they were at. Several cars parked along the road—and the campus was huge so it could take them awhile to find his ‘car.’

“I’m sure I can find it,” he waved a hand, already feeling the urge to invite her to come with him on an adventure but remembering this wasn’t Y/n from the world of superheroes. This one would probably look at him like he has two heads. “It’s blue and quite eye catching.”

“I can help you if you’d like,” she offered, adjusting the items in her arms. The campus was clearing up as it was nearing the late afternoon. “I was just heading out actually. I need to drop this in my office, but if you wait right here I can make it quick.”

“Do you work here?” He assumed by the mention of an office and the fact she was carrying a briefcase instead of an backpack that she was a faculty member. He wondered what she taught.

“Yes,” she smiled, offering her hand after switching the folders to her other arm. His eyes stared a little two long on her hands—noticing there was no ring. It made him sigh in relief, but she didn’t notice. “Sorry, forgot to introduce myself. I’m Y/n L/n. I teach quantum and astrophysics here.”

The Doctor takes her hand, shaking it with a beaming smile. He should’ve known she’d be brilliant in this universe. Unsure of what to call himself—knowing this Y/n had no idea who he was, the Doctor gave her his usually alias. “John Smith. And might I say, I think you’re brilliant.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Smith,” she chuckled, letting go of his hand. Placing the folders back in the one arm she asked, “Do you work here as well? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” Now it was the time where the Doctor had to make up a story until he could gather the courage to tell the truth. He didn’t want to lie to Y/n, but how was he supposed to explain he met her alternate self in a parallel universe where she was a ice forming superhero?

“Oh no I don’t. I was just visiting. Yo—uh—I had a friend who went to school here,” he managed to catch himself when he almost slipped. “They told me if I was ever in the area I should pop in to see the grounds of the campus. Beautiful place it is.” Y/n nodded, agreeing with the statement.

“It is. Once I graduated I found myself right back where I started,” she laughed, glancing around at the scenery with a loving gaze. “It’s like my second home. Although I am itching to broaden my experience and discover something new. You know the feeling?”

It was like the universe was finally falling into his hands. The pace of his hearts skipped, the Doctor trying to keep his emotions toughest. Maybe they’d finally have the chance, though it would be the Y/n from his world he’d be opening his hearts to. It was not a bad idea at all.

“Oh definitely. It’s why I’m always on the move,” he explained further at her curious expression. “Everyday there’s a new opportunity, adventure, or story waiting to be explored. I’ve made it my life’s mission to experience it.”

“That’s amazing,” she awed and the Doctor knew she was feeling the longing sense he had witnessed from her alternate self. She was waiting for an opportunity to arise. “How do you do it?”

Now was his chance.

“I can show you,” he offered, tilting his head to her. “I know it’s not always wise to follow a stranger you just met but,” he offered his arm and turned in the direction he suspected the Tardis was. “Something tells me it would be one hell of journey if you did. I guarantee it will inspire your next article or book.” When Y/n had moved the stuff in her arms earlier, the Doctor caught sight she was the author of the textbook on top of the folders.

Biting her lip and looking to the building they were standing in front of, Y/n seemed to be debating the offer. She was a teacher at the university. She couldn’t just pack it up and leave without notice. “I don’t know. I have students—.” The Doctor gently cut her off.

“I promise you I’ll have you back as though you never left.” That had the professor tilting her head. The question was odd of course for someone who didn’t know the context. Boy was she in for a surprise.

“What do you mean by that?”

Gesturing to the arm he still held out, the Doctor’s eyes turned mischievous. He didn’t want to spoil it for it brought excitement. “You just have to see it to believe it, Y/n.”

When they found the Tardis not even ten minutes later, it was parked right beside the building Y/n’s office was located. It really was fate, all because the last of the Time Lords fell into a world of superheroes.

……………….

Tag List (those who commented on the previos parts): @no-time-to-obsess, @felicitybane1412, @antisocialsoull, @kneelforloki, @geeksareunique, @bluebear142077, @asexualaromosafezone

#Spotify #doctor who x reader #doctor who imagines #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #the tenth doctor #doctor who crossover #marvel imagine #marvel crossover #avengers!reader #david tennant #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor

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auroraesmeraldarose · 4 months

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Rafael/ Coral Island fic pt 9

Don’t worry, I may have started a new hyperfixation with BG3 (I will commit murder for Gale and IDGAF) but I’m still going with this fic! No proofreading ofc because I’m a messy bitch. Enjoy mon petit pois!

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The week was a strange one for Rafael. On the one hand, it seemed to drag slower than any other week had, while at the same time feeling as though it was careering towards Friday at an alarming pace. He was nervous. No, he was terrified. He desperately, desperately wanted Rose to have a good time with him, but he was fighting a constant impending feeling that he was doomed to make an idiot of himself. He hadn’t seen Rose since the beach at the weekend, and by Thursday he was half hoping she would have forgotten their plans. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her, he desperately did, but the fear of it going wrong somehow was taking over. On Thursday afternoon he got a message from her.

He agonised for a while, wondering if there was a way he could back out now… but it was too late. He couldn’t think of any way to get out of it, and despite the fear he felt, he didn’t really want to.

<Of course. 7 ok? xx> it took him far longer than it should have just to force himself to type those few words. The reply came within minutes.

<Sounds great! Will you judge me if I wear pyjamas? xx> Rafael’s heart skipped. He wondered what kind of pyjamas she would wear… they were probably adorable, whatever they were like. Smiling, he quickly sent his reply.

<Only if you judge me for wearing mine. Fair warning, Valentina bought mine for my birthday last year… xx> He rarely wore pyjamas, preferring to sleep without anything on, but was hardly going to suggest that as a dress code… although… her response came quickly and interrupted his thoughts of a pyjama-less movie night with Rose.

He smiled to himself, and went to go and dig his pyjamas out ready.

The next day seemed twice as long as usual. Pablo had plans to go to the tavern, as he did every Friday, and Rafael debated whether to tell him Rose was coming round. On the one hand, it might be good to have some advice… If anyone knew how to entertain a good-looking woman, it was Pablo. On the other hand, Pablo’s advice was likely to be unhelpful for one as shy as Rafael, and would probably make him even more nervous. Better to let him find out later, perhaps. Or, if things didn’t go well, never at all.

Rafael opened the door in the expected bear-covered pyjama pants and a t-shirt. Rose grinned at the pyjamas, and internally sighed at the way the t-shirt clung to his huge arms.

“Uhm… tell me you’ve brought yours, and I’m not an idiot?” Were his first words, as he looked at her wearing jeans, a thin strapped vest top, and a jacket with, of course, a bee embroidered on the pocket.

“Hey hero. Nice bears!” She laughed, “don’t worry, mine are in my bag, I just didn’t want to look crazy walking across town.” She threw her bag down, hung her jacket on a hook behind the door and kicked her boots off.

“Thank the goddess, for a minute I thought it was a joke!” He was blushing slightly already, and he picked up her bag for her and carried it into the kitchen, placing it on a stool by the counter. She followed, still chuckling at his pyjamas.

She reached into the bag and pulled out bee-printed pyjama pants; he smiled when he saw them. Of course they had bees on!

“Ok, I’m going to get changed - you get the food and drinks out of my bag and I’ll be back in a minute, ready for the pyjama party!” She headed off to the downstairs bathroom, and quickly switched her jeans for the pyjamas.

When she returned a minute or so later, Rafael had extracted most of the snacks from the bag, and she joined him in unpacking the rest. He had smiled at the sight of her in her pyjamas and vest, and couldn’t help but love the idea of seeing them more often. Soon they were both slouched on the couch, the coffee table in front of them covered in a mountain of snacks.

“So, what horrible delight have you got in store for me hero?” She gestured to the TV.

“Alakazam- it’s one of the best, worst horror movies you’ll see. Lots of jump-scares, but the gore is so stupid it’s not even really scary - the perfect introduction!” He grinned at her; there were no pauses when he was in his element talking about something he loved.

“Sounds absolutely brilliant, but if I have nightmares I’ll be turning up in the middle of the night to sleep in your bed!” She threatened, jokingly. Rafael tried hard not to think about her in his bed, but he couldn’t help but grin at her.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll uhm… try and warn you before the jump-scares.” He glanced at her bare arms, before adding, “tell me if you, uhm, get cold? Sometimes when the forge is out it feels kind of cold in here later on…”

Rose’s heart fluttered a little at how thoughtful he was, and she wondered if that could be a good excuse to cuddle up next to him later, if she was feeling brave.

“In fact, uhm… hang on.” And with that he jumped up and left the room quickly. Wondering what he had gone to do, she watched after him curiously, until he returned with two huge hoodies and a blanket in his arms. “Just in case,” he shrugged, handing her one of the hoodies. She wasn’t remotely cold, but, thanking him slipped it on anyway, letting it fall and expose both of her shoulders. Something about seeing her in his clothes, even just a hoodie, gave Rafael butterflies, and to avoid looking at her he bustled around turning the lights off and fiddling with the DVD player, starting the movie. As he did so, Rose surreptitiously breathed in the delicious scent of woodsmoke that seemed to permeate all of Rafael’s clothes, and tried to suppress a slight shiver.

When he sat back down, just a few inches from her, she crossed her legs under her and turned to him, putting one hand on his thigh lightly, her face serious.

“I’m going to warn you now, before we start, that I am terrible with horror movies. I will almost definitely scream, and it is entirely possible I may end up using you as a human shield.” Rafael tried very hard not to focus on the hand on his leg.

“I can uhm… put something else on…?” He looked distinctly flustered.

“No, if I’m going to watch a horror movie, best to do it with the biggest, strongest guy I know to protect me!” She laughed, and his face blushed deeper than ever at the compliment. “I just thought I’d better warn you, so you’re not too shocked when I’m attempting to hide behind you.” He grinned at her, and she added, “and just know you’re definitely walking me home after, to keep me safe from the ghosts or monsters or whatever it is!”

He nodded, laughing, “I uhm… I promise I won’t let the ghosts get you.” As she took her hand back from his knee and turned back to the TV, he pressed play, and sank back into the cushions, paying no attention at all to the movie. He gazed at the way the little light they had glinted on the hair spilling over her bare shoulder, and found himself imagining gently pushing the hair back and planting a kiss on the soft, freckled skin there. He was deep in a fantasy of a kiss for every one of those freckles when the first jump-scare came, and he had completely forgotten to warn her.

She let out a little squeal, and turned and smacked him lightly on the arm.

“You said you’d warn me! You’re supposed to be my hero!” Her face was torn between outrage and laughter, and she didn’t seem actually afraid at all. Nevertheless, she leaned into his arm and wrapped both of hers around it, pressing her face into his thick bicep.

“I’m sorry!” Rafael laughed a little, and tried to turn her face up to his with his free hand, “I, uhm, forgot about that one. I promise I’ll remember the rest!” She allowed him to lift her chin, and joined his laughter.

“Fine, but I’m not letting go of you, I might need to hide,” Rose’s face was defiant, daring him to refuse.

“Uhm…” he hesitated, blushing again, perhaps at her wrapping herself around his arm, perhaps from remembering why he’d not been watching the movie. “Not a problem, I uhm… don’t need that arm anyway.” He grinned sheepishly, and true to her word, she continued to snuggle against his arm, resting her head against it, but facing back to the TV.

He forced himself to focus on the movie, and not the way her hair tickled his arm, and smelled faintly of roses. He definitely didn’t allow himself to dwell on the way her fingers felt on his skin, or the tiny stroking movement she made when she adjusted the position of her hands slightly. He managed to warn her about the next jump-scares, and when the first gory bloodbath happened, she moved, releasing his arm and burrowing her face into his chest instead. He allowed his freed arm to casually drape over her back when she did that, and when the gore was over, she turned back, but he didn’t remove his arm from around her. After the first two times she had pressed herself against his chest, he may have slightly exaggerated some of the less bloody bits to get her to hide against him again. Around halfway through, he had pulled the blanket over her legs, and she had swung them up over his lap to scrunch in closer to him. He wondered what would happen when the movie ended, and almost willed it to last longer just to keep her where she was, sat almost in his lap. Rose would never admit it to Rafael, but she too was wishing the movie would go on longer. She would also never admit that although the gore was a bit unpleasant, she absolutely did not need to hide her face from it. She couldn’t help herself, having been presented with the perfect excuse to be so near him, to feel his warm body and breathe in the delicious scent of him. She wondered if he suspected her of overdoing her squeamishness, but if he did, he clearly didn’t intend to call her on it. Every time she moved a little closer to him, or pressed her face into his chest, her heart thudded so hard she worried he’d feel it. If he did, he made no mention of it, and made no attempt to move away or extricate himself from her arms. She figured it was worth the risk; she could always blame her pounding heart on the movie, and continued to snuggle into him at every opportunity.

The movie ended a little before midnight, and for a few seconds they remained entangled. Rose, trying to make it seem as if she had only just realised how tightly she had been clinging to him, let Rafael out of her grasp with a faint laugh and swung her legs back to the floor.

“Well, that was… something?” She grinned and he returned it, feeling relieved that she had broken the tension for him.

“Perhaps uhm… not going to the top of your favourites?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hmmm…” Rose pretended to think. “I think for our next movie night it should be scarier, and gorier,” and she was only half joking. Gives me more opportunities to hold onto you, she thought.

“A challenge?” The eyebrow raised again.

“Well, I think you need more opportunities to be a hero,” she winked, and stood up from the couch. “It’s getting pretty late, I guess I’d better head back…” Rose looked down at his legs, and chuckled, “I’ll just change back into my jeans… and maybe you should too - I think those pyjamas might turn heads if there’s anyone around at this hour!”

They changed, and Rafael walked her home, only teasing her a little on the way about the ghosts and ghouls that might be after her. When he got back, he decided to leave the clearing up for the morning, and instead went straight to bed. He had been lying restlessly for a while thinking about the warmth of her body in his arms, the scent of her rose perfume, and the freckles on her shoulder, when his phone buzzed with a message. Confused about what it could be at this hour, he opened the message quickly.

It was a picture of Rose, in his half-zipped hoodie. It came halfway down her thighs, as it was so big on her, and so the picture was perfectly decent… but it seemed quite probable she might not be wearing anything underneath it. There was a message to accompany the picture.

<Sorry, looks like I’ve borrowed this… maybe wearing a hero’s armour tonight will keep me safe from ghosts and nightmares? Thanks for a fun evening xx>

He grinned to himself, and considered his reply for a minute or two, finding himself distracted by the image of Rose in bed in nothing but his hoodie.

Rafael got back out of bed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep any time soon. He collected the emerald from the chest at the bottom of the bed once again, and went back to work on it. Neither Rose nor Rafael slept much that night, though not because of the ghosts.

#coral island rafael #rafael coral island #coral island #fanfic #fluff

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mollybecameanengineer · 10 months

Text

The Home Front

Summary: Mulder, Scully, and William have been kidnaped and their deaths faked. How do their friends and family react?

word count: 6,138 | Teen | MSR | @today-in-fic

Read on AO3 or check out the first chapter below the break

This is part of an episodic series called A Second Chance. All the episodes are collected, in order, using AO3’s series feature. The concept of the series is to rewrite seasons 8 and 9. It deals with Mulder’s return from the dead, the birth of William, and Mulder and Scully trying to juggle family life with impending doom.

If you don’t want to read the whole thing, but want to read this story, here is what you need to know…

Previously on A Second Chance: After Mulder returned from the dead, he moved in with Scully. (Reentry). Scully, while pregnant, was infected with the black oil and somehow neutralized it (Immunidad). The Cigarette Smoking Man (and a new syndicate) learned of this, and became interested in Scully’s baby. After William was born, Mulder and Scully were determined to keep him safe (Sinister). However, after they learned that not only can William neutralize the black oil if infected, but he was also immune to the Super Soldier virus, Mulder planned to go on the run with William, leaving Scully behind due to the chip in her neck (and therefore her ability to be tracked). However, the Smoking Man got to them first. Mulder and Scully agreed to go with the Cigarette Smoking Man because he promised that he would keep them together and protect them from the alien colonists (who want to kill Mulder, Scully, and William) in exchange for letting him make a vaccine from William’s blood. (In the Space of a Day) When Maggie discovers that her daughter and family are missing, Skinner and the rest of the crew start a search, only to find evidence that Mulder and Scully ran, but died in a car accident. This evidence was planted by the Smoking Man and his associates, but no one knows that, and Mulder and Scully don’t know that everyone thinks they’re dead. Meanwhile, Mulder, Scully, and William leave with the Smoking Man, (Loss) who takes them to a remote military installation in Oregon. There, they are given base housing, and William is examined by the medical team. After exploring the facilities, Mulder and Scully decide that Scully will work with the team to develop the vaccine, while secretly trying to find a way to make William no longer immune, and thus no longer special. (The Gilded Cage) In their prison, Scully discovers why William is immune to the virus: he has defective white blood cells. This means that it’s unlikely that anyone could acquire an immunity like he has. In addition, he is immunodeficient. Just when Mulder and Scully start to plan their escape, Krycek appears. (Milestones)

June, 2001

“I’m not going.”

Frohike sat, with his arms crossed, glaring at Byers and Langly. The former was dressed in his usual suit, though one of his darkest colored ones, while the latter was wearing his dress t-shirt: which was still a shirt bought at a concert, it just didn’t have any holes in it.

In response to Frohike’s declaration, Langly threw up his hands. “Whatever, dude,” he said, before walking away.

“Melvin.” Byers walked over, and placed a hand on Frohike’s shoulder. Frohike had to suppress the urge to shrug him off. “I know you don’t believe that it was Mulder, Scully, and William in that car. I understand your doubts, and I promise we won’t stop looking until you’re satisfied. But,” Byers took a breath. “You should go to support Mrs. Scully. I know you don’t agree with having a funeral, but she’s grieving, and we are the closest thing Mulder has to family at this point. If we don’t go…” Byers trailed off.

Frohike sighed. He understood what Byers was saying: if they didn’t go, it looked like they didn’t care. And Frohike cared. Since they’d gone missing last month, Frohike had tried to come up with any angle that might shed light on what happened. And while the dental records of the body in the burned up car matched his friends, they could be faked. It was all too convenient. He hated that Mrs. Scully had the bodies cremated before he could do a thorough examination.

It all seemed like a show to make them stop looking.

Byers was still looking at him, a stern expression on his face. “Alright,” Frohike relented. “I’ll go.”

Byers smiled. “Good. We leave in ten minutes.”

***

It was a sunny day.

Skinner stood next to a folding table that had been placed on the dock. It held pictures mostly of Scully, from childhood on. There were a couple pictures of Mulder, always with Scully, obviously snapped when he participated in some Scully family function. There was only one picture of William. He was in Scully’s arms, Mulder was sitting next to her on their couch. They were both smiling for the camera, which Skinner assumed Mrs. Scully had been wielding.

There was also a large flower arrangement and before that an urn.

“I know Dana buried him the first time,” Mrs. Scully’s voice came from behind him. “But she wanted to be cremated and put to rest like her father. And I thought he’d want to be with her.”

Skinner nodded. Not to mention there wasn’t much left of them after the car fire. Skinner pushed the gruesome image out of his head. “I think you’re right. Mulder loved your daughter very much.”

“I know. And she loved him. And William –” Mrs. Scully’s voice caught. “Excuse me,” she said, walking away, wiping at her face.

Skinner sighed, turning his attention back to the pictures. What a loss. Skinner had hoped, before Krycek had brought them the news that the Smoking Man was after William, that the birth of their child might bring Mulder and Scully peace. That their relentless searching would come to a close, and maybe they would be able to rest. To enjoy being a family.

But less than two weeks later they were dead. He supposed there might be a kind of peace in that, just not what he’d hoped for them.

Skinner could feel tears welling in his eyes, and he blinked them away. He needed to be strong today for Scully’s family – they didn’t need his blubbering.

“Good afternoon all, if you’ll take a seat, we will get started,” the priest said from the front of the gathering. Skinner recognized him as the same priest that had visited Scully when she was in the hospital. At least that meant he knew her – Skinner hated funerals where it was clear the officiant had no knowledge of the deceased.

Turning his back on the pictures, walked over to the cluster of chairs where the funeral would take place.

***

Charlie thanked God that Tara had gotten Bill out of the apartment.

The funeral was two days ago, and their mom had asked them all to help pack up Dana’s apartment. The landlord had asked if they could be out by the end of the month, which gave them a couple weeks. However, Charlie was leaving in a couple days, as was Bill and his family, and it felt wrong to leave his mother to this alone.

So they’d all come over, but Bill just won’t shut the fuck up about how Mulder had been the cause of so much despair for their family. Charlie got it – if Dana had never joined the FBI, if she’d never gotten involved with Mulder, she and Melissa would likely be alive. But, right now, it really wasn’t helping.

Thankfully, Matthew needed to run off some energy, so Tara convinced Bill to take him to a nearby park. Charlie didn’t know how she put up with his older brother, but thankfully he listened to her. That left Charlie with his mother and Tara, trying to sort out his sister’s life.

“Are you going to take the fish home?” Charlie asked.

His mom sighed. “I think so. They were Fox’s. Dana brought them from his apartment after…” No one liked to talk about the fact that his sister's partner had been dead twice, so his mom didn’t finish the sentence. “Anyway, Dana said they were important to Fox, it seems like I should take them and try to keep them alive.”

Charlie nodded. He looked around the tank, trying to figure out how they were going to get it and the fish (still alive) to his mom’s place.

“Anyway,” Mom said. “You should look through Fox’s clothes and see if there is anything you want. He was shorter than Bill, but I think his clothes might fit you.”

Charlie wasn’t too sure about that, nor was he thrilled about taking a dead man’s clothes, but it was an excuse to get things packed up and off to Goodwill.

In the bedroom, Charlie started pulling Mulder’s things out of the closet. He had a lot of nice suits, but, as Charlie suspected, Mulder had longer arms and legs, and a smaller waist. Well, someone would get use out of them, he thought as he boxed them up.

Moving to the dresser, Charlie opened up the first drawer, and then slammed it back shut. Shit, he thought, then slowly opened it again. Sitting there, on top of his sister’s underwear, was a bright pink vibrator. The kind that’s shaped like a penis. Jesus Dana, this is more than I needed to know, Charlie thought, as he wondered how to dispose of this.

“Hey, Charlie, I was thinking –” Tara’s voice stopped short as she saw what was in the drawer.

They both stared at each other a moment, then at the vibrator. “Well, at least it’s not your mom finding this,” she said in a low voice.

Thank god for small miracles. “Yeah, should we, like, look for more sex stuff?” Charlie whispered back. “So Mom doesn’t find it?”

Tara nodded. “I know I’d prefer if my siblings found this kind of stuff, rather than my parents.”

Charlie grabbed one of the big black trash bags, and gingerly threw the vibrator into it. “I’m guessing no one at Goodwill wants a used one of these.”

Tara laughed.

After a careful search, they’d disposed lube and expired condoms (which explained William), two smutty novels, five vintage issues of Playboy (which Charlie felt a little bad about throwing away, but with Tara standing right there, he didn’t want to leaf through them to see why Mulder had kept these issues from twenty years ago), and VHS with the title Hand Solo, which was clearly a Star Wars porn parody.

Charlie kind of wanted to keep the tape. Maybe he’d fish it out of the trash when no one was looking.

“Well, hopefully that’s all of it,” Tara said, tossing some non-sex related trash on top to hide the contents.

“Yeah,” Charlie said, going back to what he had been doing, going through Mulder’s clothes. He found Mulder’s drawers, and started pulling out ratty sweats, boxers, and socks, and dumping them in the trash. As he worked, a wave of grief hit him. He’d only met Mulder once, at Christmas in 1998. He had shown up with Dana, late. The combination had riled Bill up, and generally made things a bit uncomfortable. But he seemed like a nice guy, and his sister seemed happy with him.

And now they were both dead, along with a nephew he’d never met. He’d never met to become distant from Dana, but he lived in Seattle and she was here. And neither of them were good at calling. So they’d grown apart, if not on purpose. So now he got to learn about her by clearing out her apartment.

Charlie sighed and stuffed more of his sister’s life into the trash.

Continue Reading on AO3

#x files fanfic

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Note

Hey can I request for your follower celebration:

No 19 from hand holding, no 20 from hugging, no9+6 from kisses please

And congratulations on this milestone you deserve ur completely!!!

Thank you so so much!! <3

These prompts are: Hand-holding 19: playing with each other’s fingers / Hugs 20: cuddling / Kisses 6: slow kisses / Kisses 9: first kisses

Mondays suck, so I hope this makes anyone who needs it smile :)

-x-

Reflecting Light

The first time they kiss, it’s an accident.

aka: The one where Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss go on their first date.

Words: 2k

Warnings: Rated T, some suggestive themes

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

The first time they kiss, it’s an accident.

Later they’d argue about who leant in first, who took the step they’d both been avoiding for years, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. What they both remember is the desperation they felt for each other. How their teeth clashed because of it, how he tore her shirt open because he wanted to touch her. Remnants of their night together left on each other's skin in the form of fingerprint bruises on her thighs, and red tracks left by her nails on his back.

It was only afterwards, both of them still heaving in breaths that didn’t quite fill their lungs, their sweaty skin making them stick to each other, that he asks her on a date.

Any fear Emily may have had that it was a mistake, that this would ruin things between them, disappear as Aaron seemingly blurts out the invitation against her collarbone without thinking about it. She’d pulled back to look at him, the slightly nervous look on his face endearing, as if she’d say no. Her response had been to kiss him, tasting the relief on his tongue as he correctly takes it as a yes.

It takes almost two weeks for them to arrange their date, and Emily thinks it's the longest two weeks of her life. He turns into the gentleman she’d always known him to be, refusing to go any further than kissing her in the interim between their night together and their date, as if he hadn’t fucked her on her kitchen counter. Her skin tingles whenever he’s near, the memory of his touch, how he’d taken her apart so expertly, enough to make her lose concentration at the most inconvenient of times. More than once someone else on the team had caught her drifting off at work, her mind blank of anything except him.

The only comfort she found in it was that he was just as affected as she was. That she’d somehow got under his skin, making a man who was usually so reserved slightly on edge, as if the memories of their night together were also on a loop in his head. Doomed to play on repeat until they could be together again.

She smiles at her reflection in the mirror, pleased with what she sees. The black dress was similar to the one she’d worn to go undercover with the Viper, a fleeting memory of how Aaron had looked at her that day flashing across her mind as she chose what to wear. Her heels are black too, the red sole matching the new underwear she’d bought specifically for the evening, well hidden under her dress. She adjusts her hair, letting it lay naturally over her shoulders, and hears a knock on her front door.

She makes quick work of walking across her apartment, opening the door without delay, and smiling widely at him as he comes into view.

“Hi,” she says, her eyes meeting his, her stomach flipping as he smiles too, handing her a bunch of carnations, expertly organised in a bouquet she knew would have set him back a fair amount.

“Hi,” Aaron replies, leaning in to kiss her cheek, her heels making them almost the same height.

“Thank you for the flowers. Come in,” she says, taking a step back and letting him pass her into her apartment, “I’ll put these in water before we go.”

Aaron nods, closing her door behind him, and it isn’t lost on him that the last time he was here was when everything changed between them. He swallows thickly, suddenly feeling unsure about everything. His outfit, the flowers. Insecurity he wasn’t used to washing over him like a wave.

“Sorry if the flowers are too much of a cliche,” he says, watching as she pulls out a vase and puts water in it, turning to look at him with a curious look on her face, “It’s been a long time since I went on a date and I forgot what the protocol is,” he explains, and she simply smiles at him, placing the flowers in the vase, “And I know you like lilies, but I read somewhere they were poisonous to cats, and I didn’t want to start this off by killing Sergio.”

As if he knew he was being talked about Sergio meows from the couch, popping his head up so he was in view before he settles back down.

“Aaron,” Emily says, drawing his attention back to her, now much closer than she had been when he’d been distracted by the cat, her hand on his chest, “I love the flowers, thank you.”

She smiles as he nods, his nervousness still obvious, and she finds it endearing. It was something she never could have predicted he’d be like when they first met. She knew enough to understand the last time he’d asked someone out had been when he’d asked out Haley, and he’d been a teenager then. Young and full of confidence that life slowly draws out of you, the answer to the question ‘what could go wrong’ one they both knew a little too well.

She grabs the lapel of his jacket and pulls him closer, pressing her lips firmly to his, smiling when he responds immediately, his hand finding its place on her lower back. The dip there as if it was made for him. When she pulls back her eyes meet his and she bites her lip, a failed attempt to contain her smile.

“Usually when someone is nervous I tell them to imagine the other person naked,” she says, her smile transforming into a smirk, “But you don’t have to really imagine me naked.”

He chokes out a laugh, the tension in his shoulders lessening slightly, “Em.”

“It’s true,” she shrugs, stamping her lips against his again, her face becoming serious as she pulls back, “You have nothing to be nervous about, ok? We both want this.”

Aaron doesn’t understand the power she has over him. How she’s so easily placated the concerns he’d been secretly harbouring since he asked her out, endorphins still flooding through his system as she lay naked against him. He doesn’t understand it but he’s grateful for it, pleased that for the first time in a long time, someone cares enough to notice.

“Ok.”

Emily smiles and he leans in to kiss her, pulling her slightly closer.

“We should get going,” she whispers against his lips, “You promised me dinner.”

___

They’d been to dinner countless times before. Their friendship built into something new after she returned from Paris, his level of understanding of what she’d survived the closest anyone could get.

He’s grateful that this doesn’t feel any different. That the conversation between them flows just like it usually does, the air between them light and free from awkwardness. The only differences are how close they sit to each other. Emily slowly got closer throughout the night, scooting in the booth towards him. He places his hand over hers on the table, linking their fingers together as they finish their wine.

She’s on him as soon as they get into her apartment, the embargo he’d placed on anything more affectionate than making out lifted the moment they pay the bill at the restaurant. They make it to her bed this time, a trail of their clothes left throughout her apartment, Sergio watching them with a mix of confusion and judgement as they close the bedroom door, leaving him in the living room.

Their first time had been fuelled by passion. A spark turning into a flame, a fire engulfing them both as they gave into the feelings they’d both pretended weren’t there for years.

This time it’s different.

It’s slow, pleasure creeping up on them both as they explore each other again. Slow and steady like a tide making its way up a beach. Love they wouldn’t name washing each other as they curl together under her sheets, spent and breathless.

Emily cuddles up to his side and places her head on his shoulder, smiling into his chest when he wraps his arms tightly around her.

“Worth the wait?” He asks, kissing the top of her head, and she chuckles, not able to find it in herself quite yet to even try to take him down a peg or two.

She hums in response, reaching out for his hand and linking their fingers together, “Just don’t make me wait another two weeks next time.”

She plays with his fingers, marvelling at the strength he held in his hands as she runs her thumb up and down his skin. He touched her like she was made of something precious, revering her in a way she didn’t remember experiencing before. It was strange to think what she’d seen him do with them over the years. How a gun would look like nothing more than a toy in his hands.

How he’d once beaten a man to death with them, the scars on his knuckles still there now, rough beneath her fingertips.

She enjoyed the duality of him. How he was hard and soft at the same time. His rough edges different to hers, and she liked to think that's what made them fit together so well.

“So there’s definitely a next time?”

She stops her study of his hands and looks up at him, her palm pressed into his chest so she can sit up a little straighter. She frowns at him, but any annoyance she might have felt is gone before it can catch light, the same nervousness she’d seen in her kitchen when he gave her the flowers visible on his face.

“Of course, there’s a next time,” she says, sitting up and encouraging him to do the same. She throws her leg over his lap, making sure they are chest to chest, and she loops her arms around his neck. Aaron’s arms wrap around her, his hands finding her back automatically as if magnetised to her. She leans forward and kisses him slowly, her hands moving up into his hair, holding him in place as he pulls her impossibly closer. She pulls back and smiles at him, “Why wouldn’t there be?”

He doesn’t know how to put it into words, how to explain to her that he felt inadequate. That everything about her made him wonder what she saw in him. He wasn’t sure how she could see past his baggage, all of his scars both mental and physical when he couldn’t do that himself.

“Don’t you think you could do better than me?”

It surprises her, and makes her pull back just enough so she can see his entire face to see if he was joking. When she sees he’s serious she frowns, her hand leaving the back of his neck to push the hair from his forehead, messing it up even more than she had earlier.

“There isn’t anyone better than you,” she replies, and he laughs humourlessly, making her frown deepen, “I mean it, Aaron,” she says, firmer this time, “You’re handsome and funny and kind. And really fucking good in bed,” she smiles when he laughs, the vibration of it passing from his chest to hers, “And you got me flowers. You’re…” she pauses, briefly worried she’s about to say too much, but she carries on, “You’re everything,” she cups his cheek, “And you’re not the only one with a past.”

Aaron leans forward slightly, shaking his head at himself because of course she’d figured it out. She was incredibly good at her job. At reading him. He lifts his head again and looks at her, shifting her closer again.

He kisses her this time, holding her in place as he presses his lips against hers. He takes his time, imprinting this, her, into his memory. Well aware that this was the start of something special. The start of them.

She pulls back when she’s breathless and leans her forehead against hers briefly before she looks at him. She didn’t need to say the words, and he didn’t need to hear them. Affection and love neither of them would confess to yet reflecting in her eyes.

He knew she could the same reflecting back at her.

-x-

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