#I feel his perception is going to be deeper but hey! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cre8inghavoc · 5 days

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What are friends for?

PT. 10

Status: ongoing!!

Updates: no set date.

WC: 5318

Pairing: megumi fushiguro x FEM!reader

Genre/Warnings:[18+] Characters are aged up. This story contains toxic boyfriend, cursing, name calling, self-doubt/hate, angst, breaking up, post-breakup, alcohol, drug use, drunk moments, new friends, dating!au, college!au, no curses!au, dark humour, dark jokes. SMAU.Smut.

Recap:

But before you can fully come down from your high, someone starts knocking on the bathroom door, jolting you back to reality. Your eyes widen in alarm, realizing the precarious situation you're in.

You both freeze, locking eyes, you can't help but notice the difference in both your reactions. While he appears as if he gives no fucks about the knocking, you're hit with a wave of anxiety at the thought of being caught, especially by your friends. You don’t know exactly why you're keeping whatever's going on between you and Megumi a secret from them. Maybe it's the idea of avoiding their inevitable questions, even though you could easily make something up. But the idea of lying to your friends doesn't sit right with you. Sure, keeping things from them for now is one thing, but lying about something like that specifically to their faces and dealing with the fallout later feels wrong. A swirl of thoughts and emotions consumes you, possibly caused by the alcohol's lingering influence or maybe just the weight of the moment, who knows? But It's a real gut punch when you realize that you've been keeping secrets from your friends for a while now, and not just about this particular situation with Megumi.

You think back to events with your ex, things you did, things he made you do.

You start to question yourself. Were you really trying to spare your friends' feelings, or were you just trying to shield yourself from potential judgement and rejection? Because you were afraid. Afraid of being judged, the worry of embarrassing yourself, the constant nagging doubt about whether your friends would still accept you if they knew the truth—it's all there, gnawing at you. You suddenly feel the weight of your own actions crashing down on you. You've been living in fear, trapped in a cycle of hiding parts of yourself to avoid facing uncomfortable truths.

You have a feeling that Megumi can see your growing anxiety, noticing the way you fiddle with the ring on your finger and start to nervously bite your lower lip as you drift into deep thought. He gently places a hand on your waist, pulling you closer as he whispers in your ear, "Hey, just breathe. It's okay, there's nothing to panic about."

"But what if it's our friends... what do we do then?" you ask nervously.

"We'll just stay in here for a little longer until they leave”

“But we won't know when they will leave," you point out, your nerves still on edge.

He holds his gaze on you a little longer, sensing that the person at the door isn't the sole reason for your anxiety. There's something deeper brewing beneath the surface, something he can feel but can't quite put into words.

You nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, a habit you can't seem to shake, and he picks up on it immediately. Sensing your unease, he gently turns you around to face him. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

"Just scared if someone catches us, that's all," you reply, attempting to brush off your deeper worries.

"No, that's not all. I can tell there's something else," he observes perceptively.

Shit.

"No, I'm okay," you insist, forcing a smile.

"You know you're not very convincing, right?" he counters, his expression softening into a gentle smile. "Seriously, y/n... You can talk to me, you know? I'm here for you."

Your smile turns genuine as you express your gratitude. "Thanks, Megumi," you say sincerely. "It's nothing, really... I'm okay!" Despite your attempt to reassure him, a part of you knows that the unease lingering within won't be easily dismissed.

Just as Megumi was about to speak, the sound of heels walking away from the door interrupted the moment which you both took as an opportunity to slip away unnoticed. Thankfully, the dim lighting and the frenetic energy of the dance floor provided cover for your exit.

As Megumi took your hand and guided you out of the club, a rush of conflicting emotions surged through you—excitement at being with him, mixed with the nervousness. However, luck wasn't on your side, as your absence from the group didn't go unnoticed. Their curious glances caught you leaving with someone, they just assumed he was just some guy you'd met there since they couldn’t see his face.

As you stepped outside, your phone buzzed incessantly with messages from your group chat.

“Y/n!!! Who’s that guy you’re with 👀” - Maki

“Are you leaving without telling us?!” - Toge

“No fr, she actually full-on left-“ - Yuta

“Y/n got rizzzz 😏” - Itadori

“Whoooo Y/n!!! Get it, girl!” - Nobara

“You better be safe tho 😒.” - Maki

A giggle escapes your lips as you read through the messages, realizing that your friends have no idea it's Megumi, they think you're going to hook up with some random guy. The absurdity of the situation lightens the tension, and you can't help but find humour in their assumptions.

You slip your phone back into your pocket and follow Megumi to his car, where he politely opens the door for you before getting in the driver's seat. "Where are we going?" you inquire, a sweet tone lacing your words.

"A spot I know," he replies cryptically, his hand finding its way to rest on your thigh. Your heart flutters at his touch—there's something about it that just feels right. You can't help but revel in the warmth and comfort it brings.

The two of you share easy conversation and listen to music for the rest of the drive through the city streets. Finally, you arrive at the spot he mentioned, greeted by the breathtaking view of the city skyline.

"Wow... how'd you even find this place? It's beautiful," you exclaim, your eyes drinking in the captivating view before you.

Megumi leans back, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "I used to come here often," he confesses. "It's the kind of place I'd escape to, you know, when I needed to clear my head." His words carry a weight of past memories, hinting at the depth of his emotions and the significance of this spot to him.

You turn to face him, curiosity mingled with a hint of sadness in your gaze. "Escape... from what? If you don't mind me asking, of course," you inquire gently, sensing there's more to his story than meets the eye.

“Not something I can easily talk about…”

As Megumi's words hang in the air, you're left staring at him, a mix of disappointment and understanding washing over you. You glance down at your lap, lost in thought, trying to piece together what he might be hiding.

"Not sober at least..." he adds, his tone calm yet cryptic. Your head shoots up in shock and confusion, your eyes widening as you take in the wrap of weed in his hand.

“Megu-” Before you can voice your protest or confusion, he interrupts you with a commanding tone.

"Open your mouth," he instructs.

"What are y-" you begin to ask, but he cuts you off again.

"Open," he commands once more, his voice leaving no room for argument, and his gaze unwavering. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do, but knowing Megumi well enough to understand that resistance is futile. You have no choice but to comply, you open your mouth obediently.

“Tongue.” He moves the blunt to your tongue, instructing you to wet it.

As you stick out your tongue, you comply with his instruction, moistening the tip as he requested. Your eyes lock with Megumi's, the air between you crackles with intensity as you maintain eye contact, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the space between you. It feels as if time slows down, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the electric energy that pulses between you. Once done, you pull away, returning your tongue to your mouth. With practiced ease, Megumi rolls the blunt between his fingers, expertly crafting it into shape. The scent of the weed fills the air, adding to the charged atmosphere inside the car. He rolls down the window, allowing a gentle breeze to filter into the car. Leaning back against his seat, he brings the blunt to his lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke swirls around him as he holds his breath for a moment before exhaling slowly, releasing a cloud of smoke into the night air. Megumi's expression is relaxed, his gaze distant into the city.

As you watch Megumi take another hit from the blunt, your mind wanders to the reasons behind his choice to smoke weed. What led him to this point? What prompted him to start in the first place? But before you can dwell on these thoughts for too long, his question snaps you back to reality.

"Wanna hit?" he offers, gesturing the blunt towards you. You hesitate, contemplating his offer. "Oh, uh... I've never smoked a spliff before," you admit, feeling a hint of embarrassment.

He chuckles at your response. "But you've had edibles?" he questions, amusement evident in his tone.

"Yeah... and a pen, but never a blunt," you confess, feeling a bit out of your element.

"That's crazy," he laughs softly. Then, his tone shifts slightly as he asks, "What made you start? If you don't mind me asking."

You pause, considering his question. It's not one you've been asked often or at all really, and you're kinda surprised by the sudden seriousness in his voice. Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you decide to open up to him, trusting him enough to share a piece of yourself.

“I’d have to take a few hits first” You giggle nervously, feeling a bit apprehensive about taking your first hit from a blunt. Megumi smirks, amused by your response, and offers you the blunt.

"Just inhale as much as you can and hold it for a bit. It might burn a little," he advises, his tone casual yet reassuring. You bring the blunt to your lips and inhale, feeling the smoke fill your lungs. It's harsher than you expected, and you cough slightly as you hold the smoke in, trying to follow Megumi's instructions.

You exhale and between coughs, you manage to speak, your voice slightly raspy. "You said it'll burn a bit," you joke, trying to lighten the mood despite your coughing fit.

Megumi chuckles at your reaction, finding amusement in your discomfort. "Yeah, just a bit," he replies teasingly, his laughter echoing in the car.

As you take a few more hits from the blunt, the effects of the weed start to kick in, a warm sensation spreading through your body. Your eyes begin to feel heavy, and you can feel a familiar buzz settling in.

After a moment, you pass the blunt back to Megumi, your movements feeling slightly sluggish as the high takes hold. The world around you seems to slow down, colours becoming more vivid and sounds more pronounced. Despite the initial discomfort, you find yourself settling into the feeling, embracing the sense of relaxation and euphoria that washes over you. Megumi accepts the blunt with a knowing smile, understanding the shift in your demeanour as the effects of the weed take hold.

As you meet Megumi's gaze, you can sense the unspoken question lingering between you, the curiosity etched into his expression. With a deep breath, you gather your thoughts, knowing that he deserves an honest answer.

"It's nothing too serious... I've always just had anxiety," you begin, your voice soft but steady. "And my ex... he started doing drugs with his friends. It started off simple with marijuana, but then it escalated to heavier stuff. He always tried to get me to do it too, but I never did. Which, looking back, I'm glad for."

You pause, the memories of your past relationship stirring up a mix of emotions within you. "We got into this big fight... such a stupid fight," you continue, your voice tinged with bitterness. "He called me names, said I'm useless and dumb, and made it seem like every 'bad' thing was because of my anxiety. He made me believe it was all me, that I was the problem."

Your words spill out in a rush, a torrent of pent-up frustrations and regrets. "Whenever he would lie or cheat, he'd gaslight me and blame it on my overthinking or some other stupid excuse," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. "He made me at least try marijuana with him, and then... it just became a habit. Every time we would fight or my anxiety would get bad, I would just get high. It was like... a way to escape reality, a way to escape him."

You pause, your throat tight with emotion. "I got drawn to it... felt like I had to constantly be high so I didn't have to deal with life or give too many shits about it," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe it was a way to numb the pain, to forget about everything that was wrong in my life. I don't know... but it became an addiction, and I couldn't break free from it."

You fall silent, your words hanging in the air like a heavy weight. "Sorry... I'm just rambling now," you add, feeling a sense of vulnerability wash over you. But despite the fear of judgement, you're grateful for the opportunity to open up to Megumi, to share a piece of yourself with someone who truly cares.

"Y/n... I'm sorry you went through that," he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity and compassion. His words resonate with you, offering solace in a moment of vulnerability.

You meet his gaze, feeling a sense of gratitude well up within you. "And don't apologize for opening up to me, angel," he continues, his voice gentle yet firm. "I'm glad you told me."

As Megumi speaks, his words wash over you like a soothing balm, offering comfort and understanding in a way you hadn't expected. They remind you that you're not alone in your struggles, offering a beacon of hope in the darkness of your past. You feel a warmth spread through you as he leans in slightly, his hand moving to gently stroke your cheek. His touch is tender, a gesture of empathy and support that helps to ease the tension coiled within you. You lean into his touch, a sense of gratitude wells up within you, grateful for the understanding and support he offers you.

You lean in closer to Megumi's face, a surge of boldness overtakes you, perhaps fueled by the combination of alcohol and weed. All you can think about is the need to feel his lips on yours, to experience the sweetness of his kiss. Closing the distance between you, your lips meet his in a soft, tentative touch at first, before the kiss deepens into a passionate embrace. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of being close to him.

Everything else fades away—the worries, the doubts, the fears. All that matters is the intoxicating sensation of being lost in each other, of sharing a moment of intimacy and connection. And as you melt into his embrace, you realize that this is where you belong, in his arms, wrapped up in the warmth of his love.

In a bold and spontaneous move, you find yourself getting out of your seat and straddling Megumi's lap in the driver's seat. It happens so smoothly, almost as if your body is acting on instinct rather than conscious thought. As you settle onto his lap, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through you, mingled with a sense of exhilaration at your own daring.

Placing your hands on his chest, you look into his eyes, a mischievous glint dancing in your gaze. Megumi's surprise is evident in his expression, his eyes widening slightly at your unexpected move. He hadn't anticipated you being so bold, and for a moment, he's taken aback by your sudden closeness.

Megumi's right hand settles on your waist, his touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of warmth coursing through you. Meanwhile, his other hand holds the blunt out of the slightly opened window. You meet his gaze as he slowly trails his eyes over your body. You lean towards his hand holding the blunt, allowing him to guide it towards your mouth. As the blunt hovers before your lips, you take a deep inhale, the smoke filling your lungs with a heady rush.

Once you're done, you pull back slightly, meeting Megumi's gaze and lean in to kiss him, exhaling the smoke into his mouth as your lips meet. It's a heady mix of passion and smoke, the taste of him mingling with the scent of weed.

A smirk forms on Megumi's lips as he savours the moment, his hand still resting on your waist. With a gentle pressure, he draws you closer, deepening the kiss as the intensity between you grows.

You slowly trail your hand down his chest until it rests over his clothed erection. The contact sends a jolt of desire coursing through both of you.

"F-fuck, angel..." he groans out, his voice thick with need and desire. The sensation of your touch drives him wild.

"Not here..." he manages to say, his voice heavy with desire. But you meet his gaze with a playful smile, moving your hand over his clothed cock in a teasing manner.

"Why nottt?" you counter, tilting your head slightly to the side and biting your bottom lip with a mischievous grin.

Feeling his growing arousal beneath your touch, you tease him further by placing one hand on his waistband while the other moves over his hardened cock.

"Fuck, you're making it so hard to resist..." he breathes out, his head tilting back slightly in pleasure.

"Then don't resist," you murmur, your voice dripping with desire, as you begin to slowly move your hand in his waistband. But before you can fully proceed, you feel his hand move from your waist to grab your wrist, his grip tightens around you with a firmness that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is possessive, yet there's a hint of restraint in his hold, as if he's struggling to contain his desire.

"Not here," he says again, his voice filled with urgency and restraint.

As his words ground you back to reality, you nod in agreement, understanding the need for discretion in the moment. With a sense of reluctance, you withdraw your hands and slide off of his lap, returning to the passenger seat.

He returns his hand on your thigh, a silent gesture of reassurance and connection, before passing you the blunt. You accept it gratefully, taking a few hits as he starts the car and drives back to his place. Rolling down the window, you let the summer night breeze wash over you, mingling with the euphoric effects of the weed and the music playing softly in the background. In that moment, everything feels peaceful, as if the worries and stresses of the world have melted away.

"It really does suck that being high makes you feel this way," you mutter to yourself, the words slipping out almost unconsciously. Despite the temporary escape it provides, you can't shake the underlying unease that comes with relying on substances for relief.

Megumi hears your words, a flicker of understanding passing through his eyes, but he remains silent knowing he's no better when it comes to drugs.

In the quiet of the car ride, you both dwell on your own thoughts, each grappling with your own past pains.

As Megumi steps out of the car and opens the door for you, his gentle gesture speaks volumes. Taking his hand, you feel a sense of comfort and connection as he helps you out of the car. With your fingers intertwined, he leads you up the stairs to his front door.

The click of the lock echoes as Megumi unlocks the front house door, ushering you inside. A shared sense of relief washes over you both as you step into the familiar surroundings of his home, relieved that your friends aren't here yet to interrupt this moment of peace and privacy.

As soon as you both step inside, Megumi wastes no time. With a swift movement, he shuts the door behind you and then slams his lips onto yours, catching you off guard with his sudden passion. A soft moan escapes your lips as he presses you against the door, his body urgent against yours. His hands move with purpose over your body, igniting a primal desire within you. Responding to his passion, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss.

Your smile against his lips only adds fuel to the fire of desire between you. With ease, Megumi lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around him, feeling a rush of excitement as his hands grip your ass, holding you close.

You giggle softly as he carries you upstairs to his room, enjoying the playful moment together. He shuts the bedroom door with a simple move before gently placing you on the bed. Meeting his gaze, his smirk makes your heart race.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his words making you blush. You glance away bashfully, feeling the heat of his gaze on you.

“But you'd look better with this off”

Before you can fully process, he's already moving, sliding your dress up and off completely, leaving you exposed to his hungry eyes. His lustful gaze sends shivers down your spine as he takes in every inch of your body.

"God... fucking shit, you don’t know what you’re doing to me," he groans, his desire evident. Without hesitation, he removes your panties, and with a sense of urgency, Megumi eagerly dives in, his mouth on your pussy, his tongue exploring every inch with fervour. He's desperate to taste you, to feel you unravel beneath his touch. His sole focus is making you feel good, making you reach your high, wanting nothing more than to feel you cum all over his face.

The sensation of his tongue against you sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You arch your back, moaning in ecstasy as he works his magic, his eagerness evident in every movement. He’s desperate in wanting you to finish fast, to lose yourself in the pleasure he's giving you, Not just because he wants you to feel good, but because he can't hold back any longer... he wants you. No, he needs you.

He's yearning for your touch. His longing is so intense, you can almost feel it radiating from him. He just wants to feel you close, to be wrapped up in the warmth of your embrace, to experience that raw connection between you two.

He's doing his best to restrain himself, but you make it so fucking hard by the way you look at him, by the way you’re pulling on his hair and grinding your hips against his mouth. Each noise, each moan that escapes your lips, each tug on his hair, sends a jolt of desire straight to his core.

He slides two fingers into your pussy, curling them up to hit that sweet spot, feeling the urgency building inside him. He needs you to finish, he can’t take it anymore.

"Oh fuck, Gumi, I'm gonna cum," you moan, feeling the pressure building to an unbearable level.

"Fuck, angel, cum for me, yeah?" he groans, his movements becoming faster and more intense.

With his encouragement, you reach the peak of ecstasy, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure wash over you, releasing everything you've been holding back.

As he swiftly removes his pants and boxers, you gaze down in awe at his impressive length. Your eyes widen in shock at the sight of him-so big, so perfect. His dick is long, thick, with a slight upward curve, and it's enough to make your mouth water.

Unable to resist, you reach out and stroke his length, eliciting a deep moan of pleasure from him as he tilts his head back. Using his pre-cum as lubricant, you continue to stroke him, relishing in the sensation of his hardness in your hand.

"Tell me what you want, angel," he breathes out, his voice heavy with desire.

"I just want to make you feel good," you reply softly, your own desire evident in your voice.

"Yeah?" he groans again, his arousal evident as you continue to stroke him.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel even better?" you ask, biting your lip in anticipation.

As you guide his tip to your entrance, he looks down at you with a smirk. "Oh, you're such a tease, babe," he remarks, his tone playful.

You smile back at him, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you.

"You sure?" he asks, his concern evident in his gaze.

All you can do is bite your lower lip and nod, your heart pounding in anticipation.

With your agreement, he slowly pushes his tip into your entrance, watching your facial expression closely for any sign of discomfort.

"If you change your mind, just let me know, kay? I won't be mad, I promise," he says softly, stroking your cheek gently.

"Okay," you manage to mutter as you feel his length enter you, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

You moan as his dick stretches you out, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through you with each inch he pushes inside you.

"Fuck, baby, you really are so tight," he moans in pleasure, his voice filled with admiration.

You moan even louder as he continues to stretch you out further, the sensation overwhelming yet intoxicating.

"Takin’ me so well. Think you can take more, baby?" he asks, his desire evident in his voice.

Unable to form proper words, you simply nod your head, your body craving more of him.

He pushes in deeper, until his full length is buried inside you, and then he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size.

"Are you feeling okay, angel?" he asks, concern evident in his voice as he gazes into

your eyes.

"Yes, can you please start moving... I need you," you reply, your desire evident in your voice after finally adjusting to his size.

"Anything you want," he says with a smirk, his eagerness to please you evident in his tone.

He begins to slowly thrust his hips back and forth, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Holy shit, you feel so good, angel," he groans, his voice filled with ecstasy.

You moan in response, the sensation of his dick moving inside you driving you wild with desire.

"Fuck- more, Gumi," you plead, wanting him to pick up the pace.

"Yeah? You want more?" he asks, his voice husky with desire as he speeds up his movements, eliciting even louder moans from you.

"Take it," he commands, lost in the pleasure of the moment, and you find yourself getting even wetter from his words alone.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he murmurs, his head falling to the crook of your neck as you tangle your hand in his hair, lost in the intensity of your connection.

"Oh fuck, Gumiii," you moan out, lost in the pleasure of his movements.

"Good fucking girl," he praises, his words driving you even wilder as he continues to increase his pace.

His dick curves perfectly to hit your spot, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body with each thrust. Your breathing becomes rapid as he continues to hit that sweet spot that drives you crazy, making it hard for you to hold back.

"Fuck, right there, yes!" you cry out in ecstasy, unable to contain your pleasure.

"You like when I fuck you like that, huh, angel?" he asks, his hand moving to your clit and rubbing fast circles on it, intensifying your pleasure even further.

"Oh, yes!" you moan louder, the sensation of his fingers combined with his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

He smirks at your response, his movements becoming even more relentless as he focuses on driving you over the edge of ecstasy. With every thrust, he hits that perfect spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

Your moans grow louder, your body trembling with each touch and stroke. The combination of his deep thrusts and the sensation of his fingers on your clit pushes you closer to the brink of orgasm.

"Fuck, Gumi, I'm gonna cum," you whimper, your voice filled with urgency and desire.

"Go ahead, angel, cum for me, yeah?" he encourages, his voice husky with arousal as he continues to pleasure you.

With his words ringing in your ears, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation building inside you. Your climax crashes over you, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure as you reach the peak of ecstasy.

He watches you with a satisfied grin, reveling in the sight of your release.

You clench around his dick tightly as you reach your climax, sending a jolt of pleasure through both of you.

"Shit, baby, you're squeezing me so tight," he groans in pleasure, the sensation driving him closer to the edge. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that."

But despite his words, you continue to tighten around him, pushing him closer and closer to the brink. With one final, desperate thrust, he loses control, his body tensing as he spills his hot seeds inside you, his groans of pleasure mingling with yours in the air.

As you both ride out the waves of ecstasy together, he collapses beside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

"You did so good for me, baby," he murmurs, wrapping you in his arms as he spoons you, his breath hot against the back of your neck.

You smile and giggle at his words, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction spread through you.

Pulling him impossibly closer, you intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing his hands gently as you kiss them.

"Thank you," you whisper softly, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you as you drift off to sleep in his comforting embrace.

"I'll clean you up and get you some water, okay?" he murmurs softly, his voice filled with tenderness as he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder. You nod sleepily, feeling grateful for his care and attention.

As Megumi makes his way downstairs to grab the waters, he runs into Itadori and the rest of the group returning from the club. They stumble in, clearly intoxicated, except for Itadori, who seems more sober than the others. Everyone greets Megumi with a friendly hello before heading off to their respective rooms to sleep off the night's activities. Maki goes with Nobara, while Yuta and Toge go up to Itadori's room and you? Well... you're obviously in Megumi's... but they don't know that of course.

As Megumi is about to head upstairs, Itadori stops him and pulls him to the side with a serious expression. "Yo, Megumi," he begins, catching Megumi's attention. Megumi turns to face him, a hint of confusion showing on his face. "What's up?"

"You gotta tell her, you know…" Itadori's tone is firm, his eyes locked on Megumi's.

Megumi furrows his brows, trying to understand. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Megumi," Itadori insists, his voice dropping slightly. "I'm not stupid. I saw the hickey on her neck. I know it's from you. And I'm happy for you, man. I'm glad you're both talking again. But seriously, you need to tell her… or else things are gonna get fucked over again."

Megumi meets Itadori's gaze, his mind racing as he processes the gravity of the situation. After a moment of contemplation, he nods solemnly. "Yeah, I will."

it’s funny bc i wrote the first half drunk as then the last half high 😭

in honor of 4/20 😼

no im not a big person on drinking nd smoking but it was a celebration w my friend so yolooo 😗

help high rn as well speak plz dont mind omgg

low-key didnt reread this when sober so i hope it was okay 😃

also i got so lazy to do the messages so plzzz ignore that...

TAGLIST <3

@lavender-hvze @xbarrjallenx @atinymonbebestay @1l-ynn @chilichopsticks @dr-fluff-meow @lost-resonance @maya-maya-56 @ichorstainedskin @luciiferslover @madaqueue @vanitywoo

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alexdiedin1999 · 1 year

Text

Ajax petropolis x reader

A/n: I’m so bad at writing but there’s like…two fics under Ajax petropolis x reader and my dude doesn’t deserve that 😔

E/C: eye color

summary: Ajax has been crushing on you for ages, dropping obvious hints every chance he gets. So why don’t you notice? Do you not like him? Something changes when the Rave’n dance comes.

warnings: like longing with fluff, happy ending, sucky writing, reader not picking up on obvious stuff, yelling.

The rave’n dance is coming up soon, and Ajax can’t wait. There’s just one problem. A certain someone doesn’t reciprocate his feelings. he’d dropped the most obvious hints, and they’d brushed them off like nothing had happened. Anyone except them would realize. To recount, these hints included:

•The time he gave you a heart necklace with your initials on it. You’d beamed at him and he almost thought you’d say what he so desperately wanted to hear. But then you said

“This is so sweet! You’re the best friend ever.” His heart sank into his chest. See, if he’d been a little more perceptive, he would’ve also paid attention to how much you were blushing when you gave it to him. But he didn’t.

•it was winter at Nevermore. The snow was thick and you’d dragged him outside, sticking your tongue out to catch the snowflakes. He admired you , your ability to look good even when you didn’t care. You turned to him, and giggled.

“what?” You asked. “Nothing!” He said quickly, looking away. “You were staring at me.” You pressed. “I- you have snow in your hair.” He lied. His face was red, but not from the cold. You shook your head, shaking the invisible flaked of snow from your hair. You were so unreal. The grip you had on his life was debilitating. Now, every time he looked at snow, he thought of you.

• He’d asked you to come over and have a movie marathon with him. He’d meant it as a date, and his heart had sped up when you’d said yes. It was perfect. He felt light as air every time you buried yourself deeper into his side on the way-too-small couch in his room. You thought it was lucky he even got one, considering he didn’t have to room with anyone. You shared with Enid. When you realized how late it was, you reluctantly said good night. He’d never felt better. “This was a great hangout. See you tommorow?” His smile faltered, but only for a second, when he heard the word hangout. He should’ve known you didn’t see him..like that. He hastily said good night.

Mix that with every other signal he’d given you, ever longing touch or small gift, even the way he looked at you. It was obvious. But you never noticed. He wanted to ask you to the Rave’n. So you met up like you did every Wednesday, at the weathervane. You sat, ordering the same thing you did every time. When the topic changed from homework to the Rave’n, he practically jumped at the chance to ask you.

“Y/n, I really want to go to-” Tyler sets the drinks down, interrupting him as he turns to you. “not to sound like a creep, but is there any chance..I could get your number?” You shoot a second long look at Ajax, turning back to Tyler and writing your number on a slip of paper he hands you, giving him your most seductive smile. Ajax feels sick to his stomach. You turn back to him. “Yeah?” You say, eyes wide. “Nothing.” He mutters, and hurriedly leaves after paying for his coffee.

Now he’s in your room, messing with your things while you finish your homework. He changes the song on your speaker, and you look up.

“hey! I liked that song.” You hit his arm playfully. He groans and turns it back. He was going to not pay attention to the song, save for a few nods of his head, but now that you’ve given your approval, he listens. The lyrics are about not confessing when your in love, and his heart tightens. He looks at you, focused on your work. You’re so pretty, your E/C eyes shining as you furrow your brow, furiously writing something down. He decides he can’t wait any longer. All he wants is to say it, to get you out of his head somehow. But instead he thinks about how many times you didn’t pick up on his hints, and he gets frustrated. He knows you’ve noticed. So why haven’t you done anything?

“Why do you keep rejecting me?” He asks. Your head shoots up, your eyes widening. He regrets what he’s said immediately.

“What?” You say, panic coursing through you. The truth was, you’d been trying to get Ajax to notice the crush you had on him for ages, dropping subtle signs that you were into him every now and then. “If you don’t like me I get it, but you have to stop being so…I don’t know.” He instinctively tries to run his hands through his hair before realizing his beanie is on.

“I..I’m so confused.” You say, trying to get it together as realization sets in. He steps closer. “God! You keep leading me on and then saying we’re just friends! Do you like me or not?” He doesn’t yell, not quite. He would never yell at you. But he’s frustrated, and it’s obvious. It’s not your fault, really. You’d both been misreading the situation forever.

“You like me back?” You say, happiness overwhelming you. His anger disappears, and he walks closer to you.

“God you can be so oblivious.” He groans. You move your face closer to him, smiling. “But you still like me.” You whisper to him, and he grins. “Yeah I do.” You kiss him, happily. You stay like that till you both need to come up for air. He looks away before asking, “do you want to go to the Rave’n with me?” You feel ecstatic as you nod, blushing a deep shade of scarlet. He smiles impossibly wider and reconnects your lips eagerly. Then another question pops into his head. He wishes they would stop so he can just enjoy the moment, the feel of your soft lips against his, but he feels inclined to ask.

“I thought you liked Tyler?” You grin at him as you readjust yourself onto his lap so you can kiss easier.“No, I just wanted to see if that would make you angry.” Relief flows through him. “Did it?” His hands press against your waist. “I don’t know, did it?” You reply against his lips. He doesn’t respond beyond pressing another fervent kiss against your lips, and that’s enough.

#ajax petropolis x reader #ajax petropolus #ajax petropolus x you #ajax petropolus x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday #wednesday x reader #wednesday show #fanfic #fypシ #Ajax petropolis x reader

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alxtiny · 6 months

Note

hello! saw you taking request and i have been wanting a yunho scenario (angst/soft smut n fluff ending) with plus size! reader. wherein y/n is a graphic designer and has been experiencing insecurities with all the models she's editing for work... sorry english is not my first language. thank you 🤍

Design | Jeong Yunho x reader

Synopsis: where yunho helps you forget your insecurities

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x graphic designer!reader, domestic au

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: heavy smut, afab reader, no use of protection (wrap it before you tap it guys), piv, multiple orgasms, minimal dialogue MINORS DO NO INTERACT

Notes: I’m sorry for taking this long this is my first smut 😭😭😭 i hope you like it

masterlist

In the dim glow of the computer screen, you meticulously crafted characters for a new project. As you worked, your eyes flickered between your design and the models on the screen. Each stroke of the digital pen seemed to highlight your own insecurities, magnifying the differences between yourself and the designs you created. No matter how much time you spent creating realistic bodies, perfect faces, and exquisite clothing, you still couldn't not compare them with your body or face.

"Why can't I look like them?" you whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room. You compared your curves to the slender figures on the screen, your fingers tracing the outline of your own body almost unconsciously. Doubt crept in like a shadow, casting a pall over your confidence."How could something have such an appealing figure? What is wrong with me?"You sighed heavily, knowing you were being silly.

Meanwhile, Yunho noticed the change in your demeanour. He approached you, his eyes filled with concern. "Hey, what's going on?" he asked gently, his voice like a soothing melody in the midst of your turmoil.

You looked up, your eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. "I just... I feel so inadequate compared to these models I'm editing. They're perfect, and I'm just..." your voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

Yunho knelt beside you, his warm hand cupping your cheek. "You are perfect, just the way you are," he said, his sincerity cutting through your self-doubt. "Your uniqueness, your curves, they make you beautiful. Don't let these digital images distort your perception of yourself."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared into Yunho's brown irises, seeing nothing but love and acceptance. "But it's hard, Yunho. Every day, I'm bombarded with these unrealistic standards of beauty. How can I not compare myself?"

He gently wiped away your tears with his thumb, his touch grounding you in the moment. "I understand, Y/N. It's challenging, but you have to remember that real beauty comes from within. Your kindness, your talent, your passion – those are the things that make you truly extraordinary."

You nodded, taking in his words like a lifeline in the storm. "I just wish I could see myself the way you see me."

Yunho smiled, his eyes filled with adoration. "I see a strong, talented, and beautiful person who I love more than words can express. I see someone who inspires others with her creativity and passion. You are more than your insecurities, Y/N. You are enough, just as you are."

Unable to hold back any longer, you leaned forward, brushing your lips against his soft skin. "Thank you, Yuyu," you murmured, hoping the gratitude in your voice would translate.

Yunho's eyes fluttered closed as his head tilted to the side, inviting you to continue. For a few moments, all was quiet except for the faint sounds of the computer humming.

Then, he lifted your chin and kissed you tenderly. His gentle kiss stirred something inside of you, warming you from the inside out. "Mmm," he moaned softly, the sound catching your attention. “Maybe I should show you how I see you and your so called imperfections,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away slightly before kissing you again, this time deeper. He took you in his arms, wrapping you tightly against him, your fingers entwined in his hair as he deepened the kiss, slowly pushing you towards the bed.

When you felt Yunho’s firm hands caress your waist, your breath caught in your throat. Your heart pounded furiously in your chest as your senses heightened to the point where you felt everything around you. He pushed you down slowly, onto the bed, as his lips traveled from your lips to your jaw and neck, leaving little purple marks in their wake.

The taste of your skin intoxicated him, driving him wild as his tongue licked along your collarbone. His hands wandered downwards, moving in slow motion as if to savor each sensation. You squirmed beneath him, arching your back, inviting him to explore your body further.

At last, he reached the hem of the long shirt you wore, lifting it inch by inch until it was lying abandoned at your feet. You watched as he removed his shirt and pants, throwing them aside carelessly, leaving him in his boxers. He gazed down at you, his eyes darkening.

There was no need to ask; he knew exactly what you wanted. His mouth went further south leaving soft kisses and light marks on your torso. Reaching near your chest, he moved away, “ See, this is how much I love the way you look,” he whispered. you felt yourself become even more heated under his touch, a dark blush covering your face and chest.

As his mouth was once again on your skin continuing to move lower, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin of your stomach, you forgot all about your flaws. All you could think about was his soft lips trailing upwards now towards your breasts. You arched your back, allowing him better access to your stiff nipples.

His hands slid underneath the waistband of your panties, making contact with bare skin. He groaned at the feeling, “you’re already so wet for me…”

The gasp escaped your lips when his fingers found their way between your legs, massaging your swollen clit in circular motionswhile he sucked on your nipples. You moaned and arched into his mouth as your body trembled from pleasure.

Slowly he pushed two of his fingers inside your cunt. You had done this before but it still felt like a first. Your mind was reeling from lust and his rough touch. Your brain turned to mush. He kissed you again, nibbling at your neck, shoulders and earlobe, as he continued his ministrations, pumping his fingers faster and faster into you.

You whimpered, trying not to cry out too loud. You had to maintain some self-control or he would have stopped. Instead, you moaned, burying your face against his shoulder as your hole clenched around his fingers. The pressure began building. Your head was spinning and your cunt tingling as heat erupted through your entire body.

He looked at you as you gasped and tried to catch your breath. “You are so beautiful, I can’t have enough,” he said.

He kissed you passionately and sat back up to remove his boxers. “Climb up here, I want to see you…” His voice was full of passion and urgency.

Your fingers fumbled as you climbed onto his lap, sliding down until your soaked cunt was lined up against his cock. Your eyes widened despite knowing that he could easily fit inside like always. With your legs wrapped around his hips, he pulled you tight against his throbbing erection, enjoying the sensation. You slowly lowered yourself onto him and moaned. “That feels good…”. Yunho groaned in response, you slowly started to move.

As if reading your thoughts, he tightened his grip around your waist, holding you tightly in place as he thrust upwards, forcing his cock deeper inside of you, you bounced lightly on his cock trying hard to get a release.

Frustrated with the slow pace, he flipped you around, you shuddered at the new angle as he thrusted in and out of your cunt at an even faster pace, one hand gripping at the plush skin of your stomach . You cried out deep in pleasure, your hands gripping his biceps tighter and tighter and you cunt clenching around him uncontrollably. His other hand cupped your breast, pinching your nipple as he ground into you harder and harder. Sweat coated both of you as the heat built within each of you. Finally you couldn’t take anymore and screamed as you released all over his cock.

Yunho was breathing heavily now, his grip tightening even more as he forced himself as deeply into you as possible, his thrusts becoming erratic, and the pressure of his hand increasing, enough to leave bruises on your waist. It didn’t matter though, because you loved every bit of it. When he came, your cunt tightened and he buried himself as deep as he could go, painting your walls white. He slowly rode out his release, you felt your muscles relax as well, small whimpers escaping your lips.

When he finally collapsed on top of you, you laid there motionless, staring into his face, thinking how lucky you were to be with someone like him. He shifted slightly, bringing his hand down to cup your cheek, kissing you gently on the lips. “I love you, you are absolutely flawless,” he whispered, looking at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. You giggled at his words, “I love you too Yunho, so so much.”

Kissing him tenderly, you felt him smile beneath your lips. Your heart fluttered and you relaxed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, wanting to stay right where you were forever, as you both drifted off to sleep.

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DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months

Text

Find Your Way Back Home: Part Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Dean turns to you for comfort whenever he is feeling vulnerable and emotional. You try to help in any way you can, even if it means giving yourself to him physically. He tries to push you out of his life but you show him that you're not going anywhere.

Author’s Note: This is the third part of six parts of the commission for @winchester-sinchester. Dean is twenty-six, the reader is eighteen, and Sam is twenty-four.

It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen or talked to Dean after he promised to stay with you. Maybe he had a good reason for leaving but then why didn’t he just tell you? Did he only tell you what you wanted to hear? Does he feel the same way as you do for him? Your roommate returned home last week but the place feels empty without Dean in it.

You’re in the kitchen making something to eat when you glance at your phone that’s sitting on the counter.

“Why are you staring at your phone like it’s talking to you?” your roommate, Jessica, asks.

“I’m debating on calling someone.”

“Who?” You don’t answer her. “Just call him.”

“How do you know it’s a him?”

“You’re looking at your phone in hope. I know for a fact you’re not into women, and you wouldn’t be looking at your phone if he was just a friend.”

You hate how perceptive she can be. You finish making your food and set the plate on the counter only to pick up your phone. You dial Dean’s number before you can stop yourself and place the phone at your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answers in two rings.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me? You left, Dean. You promised me you’d stay.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. My dad needed me. Sam’s gone and he needed some help on a hunt.”

“You could have left me a note or something.”

“If it helps anything, I did enjoy my time with you.”

Just like that, he brings a smile to your face. Your first time is exactly how they describe in books. It was passionate and magical.

“Me, too. When can I see you again?”

“Well, I’m finishing a hunt right now but I can come down after.”

“Okay. There’s a diner here that has amazing burgers. I think you’d like it.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Heat spreads from your neck to your cheeks, and you turn away from your roommate so she doesn’t see how quickly you’ve fallen for Dean.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” you chuckle.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you in a few days.”

You hang up on Dean with a smile on your face.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Jessica asks.

“No, but I’m hoping he might be.”

Four days go by antagonizing slowly. Your homework sits on your computer untouched because all you can think about is Dean and his hands on you. He made good on his promise and showed up at your dorm by the end of the week, and you hate how quickly you’re running down the stairs to greet him.

“Dean!” you smile and fling yourself into his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he smiles.

He leans down and captures your lips with his. It feels good to finally be in his arms. Your body screams at you for his touch but you want something more than just sex. You want to know his mind and connect with him on a deeper level than just physical.

“So, the diner doesn’t close until really late but I was thinking if we go there now, we’ll still have enough time to go bowling afterwards. There is a place near here that’s pretty cool. The lanes light up.”

Dean bends slightly and hooks his hands underneath your thighs. You’re forced to wrap your legs around his waist so you don’t fall, but you don’t mind the position. He slides his hands over your ass to keep you close to him as he walks inside your building. The door is propped open since they are having new students come in and apply to live there next year. No one is in the lobby as Dean carries you through it and up the stairs to your floor.

“I have a better idea,” he grins and kisses your neck when he reaches your front door.

You didn’t lock it for this exact reason so he pushes it open and slams it shut behind him. Jessica is in class so it’s just you two again. The thought of having him inside you again is getting you wetter than you care to admit. Ever since your first time, you’ve craved his touch. You haven’t been with another man since you don’t want anyone else but him.

“I don’t think I can wait this time, Dean. I just need you inside me.”

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

He lays you on your bed and runs his hands down your clothed legs. He doesn’t want you to think you’re some booty call but damn, he can’t think about anything else but your pussy. He undoes the string on the front of your sweats and pulls them down your legs along with your panties. He really isn’t wasting time on you.

Dean unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his briefs along with it. His cock springs free with a red angry tip. Precome drizzles down the side of his cock, making your mouth water at the sight. You want to taste him but later, you will. Dean grabs a condom from his pocket and rips it open with his teeth, careful not to break the rubber. He slides it onto his aching cock before running the tip through your folds.

You’re about to bite out some snappy remark when he shoves himself into your drenched pussy. You tip your head back and moan his name while grabbing at whatever you can. Dean falls onto you but catches himself before he can crush you.

“Damn, sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight. Have you fucked anyone after me?”

“No, only you,” you moan.

Dean sets s a fast pace that has you both climbing to your climaxes at the same time. You come around him first followed by himself right after. It’s a short but intense session that’s got your legs shaking and your heart racing. You’re kind of embarrassed for not lasting long but you just missed him so much. Dean pulls out of you and discards the condom before pulling his pants up.

“If you’re hungry we can go to the diner or we can go bowling first. If you still want to.”

“Eat first. I’m starving.”

You get dressed in something more public-appropriate before leaving your dorm with Dean. The diner is located very close to your college so that college students can walk there if they don’t have a car, but Dean still uses his to get there. It’s not packed which is good so you and Dean can have some peace and quiet compared to moments ago.

The waitress brings you two some menus before leaving to tend to other customers. You look through it briefly before looking at Dean in thought. He looks… tired… worn out. He looks like the shit his father has thrown at him is finally catching up with him. He should be experiencing life in his twenties, not fighting and killing monsters.

“How’s your dad doing?” you ask.

“He’s… dad.”

Well, that’s not vague at all.

“How’s Sam doing?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You haven’t been by to visit him?”

“Nope.”

“Why? You came to see me, and I’m pretty sure I’m farther than Stanford.”

“He left this family. I didn’t make him do anything he didn't want to do. He left us. Why should I go after him when he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with us?” Dean scoffs.

“Dean--”

“Anyway, how are you doing? How is school?”

Dean hates talking about his family because it makes him emotional which makes him vulnerable. He hates feeling vulnerable so he avoids talking about things he knows will make him that. You want to pry but you don’t want him to leave so you leave it alone for now.

“School is good. All of my classes are pretty easy.”

“Still all online?”

“Every one of them. I can still go with you, you know? Company or to help hunt.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t want to drag you into this mess.”

“You did when I was ten.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

He doesn’t want you with him but you’re going to keep trying.

“You know, I’ve gotten better at fighting. My building has a gym that I’ve been using almost every day. My aim is better and I’ve read on a ton of lore. I can help you and your dad.”

“I don’t want to taint your innocence.”

Dean didn’t come here to discuss the possibility of you hunting with him full-time. You’re eighteen. He wants you to get an education and stay away from this life as much as you can. He wants you to stay away from him but he can’t seem to stop himself from coming back to you. After a delicious dinner, you two head back to your dorm room where he spends the night.

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You let that comfort you into a deep slumber but the fear of not seeing him in the morning is what wakes you up. The spot next to you on the bed is empty but warm which means he left it not too long ago. Is he still here? Did he break his promise again? Before you can overthink, you hear someone cooking something in the kitchen. You throw on something to wear and head out to see Dean in the kitchen making eggs.

“You stayed,” you smile.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“So, we didn't get to go bowling yesterday, but there is this place north of here that has a bunch of activities to do like escape rooms and rage rooms. I figure we can go up there for the day.” Dean flips the eggs in the pan but doesn’t say anything. “Dean?”

“I can’t stay,” he says without turning around.

If he had, he would have seen your face drop.

“What? Why not?”

“My dad called me. He didn’t know I took this little trip and needed me to come back. He’s pissed but I’m hoping by the time I get to him, he might have calmed down.”

“Are you sure? What if you didn’t go back?”

“I have to,” he sighs. He puts the eggs on a plate and sets it in front of you. “He’s my dad and he needs me.”

“Let me come with you.”

“No.” Dean sees the look of sadness in your eyes and walks around the counter to stand next to you. He grabs both sides of your face and kisses you slowly. “I’ll be back.”

You both know he won’t… not for a while. Dean is gone before you know it, and you look down at the eggs he made for you. Suddenly, you’re not so hungry. The first few days after Dean left are spent in your room crying over him. The fourth and fifth day is spent studying and working on your homework as best as you can. The seventh day is the day you realize that you’re an adult and can do whatever you want. Who is Dean to tell you that you can’t help him on hunts?

If you want to go to him then you’re going to go to him. It’s not hard to pack up some of your shit and continue your schoolwork online from anywhere in the country. Dean told you where he and his dad were in case you ever needed him, and that’s where you’re headed now.

There is only one motel on this long stretch of road so it has to be the one Dean and John are staying in. You knock on the door when you get there and wait for Dean to answer. The curtains shift cautiously before the door opens.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Dean asks.

He has his gun in his hands thinking it could be a monster instead of you.

“I’m helping you. Are you going to let me in?”

“Sure,” he mutters and steps aside. “What do you mean you’re helping me?”

“I told you. All my classes are online. You need me.”

Dean has to give you credit. You’re persistent. He closes the door with a quiet chuckle.

“You sure you’re ready for this life?”

“How hard can it be? You do it,” you tease.

You’re ready to take this next step with Dean even if ends in heartbreak and disaster.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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queenshelby · 3 months

Text

Our Little Secret (Part 24)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap

Hours later, Cillian arrived at your house and you opened the door for him slowly, trying not to move around too much just as the doctor had ordered.

"Hey," he greeted you softly, his voice laced with concern. "How are you feeling?" he asked, glancing briefly at your belly.

"I've got the worst cramps imaginable," you replied, your voice quivering slightly. "But I'm trying to stay positive," you added, forcing a weak smile. "Only four more weeks, right?" you told him as you gestured for him to come inside.

"You should probably lie down," Cillian suggested, his voice laced with concern. "I'll bring you some water and toast," he added, heading towards the kitchen.

As Cillian busied himself preparing your meal, you sank deeper into the fluffy pillows, attempting to find a comfortable position. The relentless contractions were growing stronger, leaving you feeling increasingly vulnerable and exposed.

Cillian returned moments later, carrying a tray laden with food and drink. You thanked him gratefully, your voice trembling slightly. He settled down beside you, his hand hovering above your thigh nervously.

"So, how did Amanda take it?" you asked hesitantly, your voice quivering slightly. You shifted uncomfortably, aware of the awkwardness of the topic.

"Not well," Cillian responded matter-of-factly, his voice steady yet distant. "She was upset, angry, and resentful," he admitted, his gaze flickering between the window and the table.

"I am sorry. I really do not want to cause trouble between you two," you apologized, your gaze flickering between Cillian's eyes and the floor.

"Y/N, none of this is your fault," Cillian

comforted you, his voice soothing as he reached out to grasp your hand. "Amanda has been jealous and possessive since the start," he revealed, his gaze piercing into your soul. "And it was about time that I broke up with her," Cillian admitted, causing your chin to drop.

"You broke up with her?"

you echoed, your voice trembling slightly. "Because of me?" you added, unable to contain your surprise.

"Well," Cillian responded, his voice steady yet distant. "I guess I realised that it would be better for everyone concerned if I wasn't with her," he added, his gaze flickering between the window and the table. "And I think that, the only reason I got involved with her in the first place was because I needed some distraction from all the shit Danielle has put me through with Max,"

he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "I just wanted someone else to distract me from how wrong everything has turned out, and she was convenient," he added, shaking his head sadly.

"So, you used her?" you asked hesitantly, your voice trembling slightly.

"Maybe," Cillian replied swiftly, his voice firm yet compassionate before pausing briefly. "I am an asshole, right?" he then asked rhetorically, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yes, you are," you agreed reluctantly, your tone softening perceptibly. "Sometimes you are real dick when it comes to women, me included," you whispered, swallowing hard as the admission weighed heavily on your conscience. "But, at the same time, you are also one of the most empathetic and caring people I know in general, so don't be too hard on yourself," you added, glancing up at Cillian with admiration.

"You are still a good person," you whispered reassuringly before pausing briefly. "And if I had thought that otherwise, I wouldn't have kept the baby," you confessed, averting your gaze as Cillian caressed your face.

"I don't deserve you," Cillian mumbled, stroking your cheek tenderly. His fingers lingered on your skin, tracing gentle patterns as he gazed intently into your eyes before pulling his hand away from your face. "As a mother to my child I mean," he then explained, his voice cracking slightly. "You're going to be such a wonderful mom," he whispered, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards faintly.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with warmth at his unexpected declaration. His expression was earnest, filled with a deep connection as if acknowledging the invisible bond that had formed between you.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you lifted your hand to touch his arm gently.

"For everything," you added, your gaze flickering between his eyes and the table.

"Don't mention it," Cillian responded, his voice laced with emotion. "I just hope I can somehow make up for my past mistakes," he added, his gaze flickering between the window and the table.

"You already have," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "Just by being here for me," you added, the corners of your mouth quirking upwards faintly just as the doorbell rang.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Cillian asked and you immediately shook your head.

"No," you answered softly, your gaze flickering between the door and Cillian who jumped up to open it.

Moments later, Cillian returned, his expression puzzled and confused.

"Who is it?" you asked cautiously, your curiosity piqued before watching your friend Emma walk inside, her expression grim.

"Em, are you alright?" you asked and, immediately, she shook her head.

"No," she muttered quietly, her gaze darting around the room uneasily. "I was actually hoping to speak with you," she confessed, her voice wobbling slightly.

"What's wrong?" you asked cautiously, your gaze flicking between Cillian and Emma. Her expression was grim, her lips pressed firmly together as a myriad of emotions swirled behind her dark eyes.

"Is everything okay?" Cillian chimed in, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, Em, what's up?" you persisted, your brow furrowed with worry.

"Okay," Emma conceded eventually, her voice hushed as she steeled herself. "Don't freak out, but there is an article about you in OK! Magazine," Emma explained, her voice low and strained as she handed you the paper. "About you and Cillian," she whispered, her gaze flickering between you and Cillian.

"What about us?" you asked cautiously, your gaze fixated on her eyes. "What does the article say?" you added, your voice trembling slightly as you saw yourself on the front cover of the magazine.

"It... it's everything, Y/N!" Emma told you urgently. "It says that you got involved with each other while Cillian was still married and that you are having his baby. It's pretty bad. It even talks about the family and all," Emma disclosed grimly, her voice trembling slightly.

Your jaw dropped, and suddenly, you felt lightheaded. You struggled to find the words to respond, and for a moment, you were struck dumb.

"Oh my God," you groaned, pressing your hands against your eyes as tears welled up in your eyes. "I can't believe this," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head incredulously.

"Y/N, relax," Cillian urged, his voice firm yet comforting. "We both knew that this was going to happen at some point," he reminded you, his gaze flickering between the magazine and the floor. "Let's read the article and I will call my publicist," he added, reaching out to take the paper from your hands.

You nodded numbly, the shock of the article lingering like a heavy weight on your shoulders. Emma's eyes widened with concern, her gaze flitting between you and Cillian.

A surprising kind of scandal: Cillian Murphy's infidelity with step-niece

In the world of celebrity news, few stories captivate the public's attention more than those involving the private lives of celebrities who usually stay away from the public eye.

As such, it comes with great surprise when OK! learned that actor Cillian Murphy has found himself at the centre of his first scandal since the Sienna Miller incident in 2009, as reports surfaced of his involvement in an extramarital affair earlier this year.

The object of the actor’s affections at the time was 20-year-old law student Y/N Y/LN and, what further complicates the situation is the fact that Y/N is the adult stepdaughter of Cillian's brother, Frank Murphy, who reportedly introduced the actor to Y/N less than a year ago.

It has also been reported by our sources that Y/N is currently pregnant with the actor’s child and OK! reporters are of the view that the news of her pregnancy will only amplify the magnitude of this scandal, seeing that Murphy has just recently closed proceedings against his wife Danielle for the joint custody of their son.

The affair has undoubtedly cast a shadow over the actor’s reputation and Murphy has yet to make a public statement or address the situation, leaving many to wonder about his response to the unfolding events.

To be continued...

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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ndjournal · 5 months

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Hey there!! I wanted to share an experience I had after reading your excerpt from The Ultimate Truth posted @4dbarbie-archive yesterday. It really resonated with me and it inspired me to want to practice conscious creation instead of letting it happen because of subconscious programming. In particular this part (which is most of the extract lol):

Man was never intended to be a victim of circumstances. He is the controller of them, but has lost awareness of this fact. When he regains his awareness of it, he again becomes the master of circumstances, and consciously controls his environment. Matter, energy, space, and time are in mind. When man realizes this, he has mental control over them and controls them at his will. Man is unconsciously determining the world. When he wakes up to this, he gains conscious control. Creation is just a mental projection.

Lester also said in the Introduction of the book that it is necessary to prove it to yourself and never accept anything completely on hearsay:

A unique characteristic of this Truth is that it must be seen my each one through his own perception. No one and no book can do it for him. Necessary is the proof of Truth, and necessary it is that each one must prove the Truth for himself. Nothing should ever be accepted on hearsay. One should listen to, reﬂect upon, and then prove. The best attitude one may take would be to not believe nor disbelieve, but to accept Truths for checking. Then, and only then, after one has proven them without a doubt should one accept them. As Truth begins to prove itself, one gains more conﬁdence in it, and then proofs come more easily and more readily; until ﬁnally, one perceives the Absolute Truth, — that we are unlimited beings, unlimited in our knowledge, power and joy.

So I've understood non-duality to a certain extent starting my "journey" from when 4dbarbie was still around and it felt like I eventually came to a sort of standstill. I just sort of fell into a lull and didn't feel anything about life in general. I really resonated with the teachings, stopped desiring anything and had let go of a lot of things but still didn't really feel connected to Self entirely (it would come and go). Recently though, I thought about how my life is just a mental projection of subconscious thoughts and how I would rather be able to consciously control it. For background, I've been using energy manipulation to heal my body using my mind and I think that's when I started to truly know that everything is just a projection of the mind (there's a much deeper innate knowing that comes from experiencing it than reading something and accepting it as truth). Then I started thinking back on the things I had "manifested" simply by deciding it to be so. And then I saw your excerpt and it really clicked for me.

To me, consciously controlling your circumstances is a "skill" because we're so used to living in limitation, it can take some time and development in order to remove those illusions of limitation (of course, it needn't take time, it depends on the individual!). I know in some LOA blogs, they call it intention setting so it's within the same vein imo. Anyway, after reading that extract and reading some of the book, I decided I wanted to practice conscious creation and strengthen this innate ability in order to connect me closer to the understanding and knowing that I am an infinite limitless being. Lester said "Matter, energy, space, and time are in mind." so I want to test all these although less so energy manipulation as I have already done this in numerous ways already. To me this was easier than the others but I now recognize that is a concept of limitation that doesn't need to be so as they are all equally mental projections. And I am not doing this to "get" any desires since I don't have any anymore, I am only doing it to remember the real me and exercise my innate natural ability of conscious creation and also "prove" it to myself through experience that I am limitless as Lester teaches.

I will give one example of "success" since I started last night! There's too much background history that I won't go over but basically this friend of mine stopped messaging me a few weeks ago and this had been a repeating cycle for a few years and it used to trigger me so much. Through being on this path, I let go of caring about it or wanting things to be different. But last night I decided to use this case scenario as a test subject for practicing conscious creation because I know I used to have a lot of mental resistance and triggers when it came to this person and if I really did succeed, it would truly be proof to me that this was purely a result of my conscious creation and not anything else.

So I decided in my mind that this friend would message me on instagram, I decided I didn't care if it was a text message or sharing a reel (though he normally sent reels so that would be most likely). I could still feel uncertainty over this after deciding so I decided it would happen the next day (today) in order for the test results to be more verifiable as not having a deadline could mean he could message me next year lol, too vague. I briefly saw it in my mind's eye the message but didn't dwell on it after, I just decided it would happen. Aaaanyway, I opened my IG messages earlier and GUESS WHO MESSAGED ME WITH A REEL!! I just laughed and got so excited, not because of receiving the message itself (since I let go of desiring anything from him long ago) but because of the proof it represented of my conscious creation! I want to emphasize this distinction because I had tried to "manifest" a text from him in the same way so many times before (because it's been a repeating cycle for so long lol) but it also came from a desire and attachment for the message itself (and connection with the person), while this time there was none of that but was from a non-attached perspective of just experimenting and testing my ability and wanting to practice and improve it. I want to add that I also had previously used LOA to "reality shift" to a "different reality" where he had messaged me the same day instead of leaving me on read for several weeks through "imagination" (this was way before I learned about non-duality so it was still driven by attachment and desire) but I gotta say this way of simply deciding it to be so is so much easier, simpler and better than having to "live and persist in imagination" lol but to each their own I guess?

So anyway, this is really exciting for me and I am going to continue on this way for fun!

🥳

Thank you for sharing your experience, that's awesome and I'm happy for you! 💖 Keep having fun and feel free to keep us updated on your future experiments!

This is the post anon was talking about. I highly recommend Lester's books for those who haven't read them yet (or have but want a refresher).

Edit: Adding this excerpt from The Ultimate Truth with my highlights

#applied #submissions

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quixoticall · 3 months

Text

This Could Get Ugly Track 4: The End of the Beginning

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, the reader faces the consequences of her actions and faces some hate from Robin, era-normalizes homophobia, no use of YN, wet dreams and reader being horny on main, allusions to a bi!reader, kinda voyerism?

A/N: First of all, I wanted to express all my gratitude for the love everyone has shown me and my work! It feels so wonderful to know that others are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it. This chapter was so challenging but also really rewarding. Initially, this was going to be much longer and it would cover the entire rest of the tour, but I didn’t want the pacing to feel rushed so I split this into two parts so we can also delve a little deeper into the rest of the tour dates. Also, I love circa Season 3 Robin who calls people out on their shit.

wc: 5.9K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎵

April 11th, 1984 Cincinnati Ohio

“Hey! Hey!” You hear calls of your name from deep in the corners of the chaos that is backstage before a show. You’re too busy fighting to secure the buckle on your stupidly impractical heels to look up and instead, you listen as the voice calling your name gets closer and closer until it takes the form of the heavy pair of lace-up boots that appear in front of you. Your gaze follows the trail up the boots to the attached legs, torso, chest, and finally to the head of wild curls belonging to one Eddie Munson. “Yes?” You say primly as if this is your first time hearing him. He rolls his eyes in response, but the gesture is more teasing than anything.

“I was thinking that maybe we don’t even do a bridge in ‘Runaway with Me’. What if, instead we do one final chorus with a larger buildup?” You halt mid-shoe-struggle to glance up at him and consider his idea. “That could work,” you say, straightening out to eye level, giving yourself a break from your crouched position.

“We could build a crescendo, maybe bring in some horns like Robin’s always talking about,” you offer.

He nods excitedly, “Yeah, some horns would be sweet! We could also do some heavier synth.”

As he’s talking, he kneels and gently begins to secure the strap of your shoes for you. This gesture and others like them have recently begun to spring from the guitarist. The two of you have naturally been spending more and more time together writing and through this time spent together you’ve come to realize that Eddie is kind below all that bravado and snark. It’s a kindness you recognize, one that’s been bubbling below the surface waiting for someone to lure it out by working past his walls. As it would turn out, spending a few nights a week writing did the trick and after nearly a month, the two of you were approaching friendship.

“Thanks,” you smile, once he’s secured both shoes, “I was struggling there.”

He gives you one of those full-body shrugs you’ve come to associate with him lately and says, “It’s nothin’. Didn’t want you wrinkling your pretty dress.”

You brush off his flirtatious words as just an attempt to get under your skin. He’s still Eddie, after all.

“Maybe we should finish the song tonight, then,” you suggest, fingers smoothing out your skirt instinctively.

“And miss the afterparty? No chance. Argyle says that the club we’re going to downtown has go-go dancers.”

“Oh, right, the afterparty. I forgot,” you exclaim, unconvincingly.

“That’s bullshit,” Eddie deadpans, “you just don’t want to go.”

The other thing you’ve learned about Eddie these past few weeks is that he’s weirdly perceptive.

“I hate those parties,” you whine as the two of you amble towards the front of the stage, “I’m stuck having people gawking at me while the rest of you are off having fun.”

“Well, that’s an easy fix, why don’t you ditch the gawkers tonight and you and I can get up to some shenanigans?”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge with a raise of your eyebrow, “I don’t see how watching groupies throw themselves at you is any different than watching them throw themselves at Steve.”

“Where are these groupies that you speak of, because I promise you no one is throwing themselves at me,” he guffaws at the mere thought.

You roll your eyes, “I see you taking a different girl home every night and I wouldn’t want to mess with your batting average. Besides, people will see me with you instead of Steve and they’ll start talking.” “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but my batting average is rookie-level, at best,” he fiddles with the strap on his guitar excessively before swinging it over his shoulders, “and as far as rumors go, not likely. No one in their right mind would think anyone, much less you would choose me over Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

You roll your eyes at his self-deprecation. “That’s not a nice thing to say about yourself, Eddie. Also, you know Steve hates when you call him that.”

He smirks in response, “That’s exactly why I do it, princess. So, what do you say? If you come to the afterparty and we have a good time, we skip the next writing session and if you find it absolutely abhorrent, we’ll… skip the afterparty in St. Louis and buckle down to write. Deal?” *** You end up taking Eddie’s deal if anything, because you don’t want to alienate the closest thing you have to a friend right now.

Ever since Jonathan found out about his brother’s successful operation, he’s been making up for lost time, partying and drinking with Argyle every single night. Nancy’s been preoccupied with trailing behind them and making sure they don’t end up waking up in a hotel lobby fountain like they did back in D.C..

Steve, on the other hand, has withdrawn from you since Atlanta, and while he acts the part of doting boyfriend in front of the crowds and pleasant friend in front of the rest of the band, the connecting door between your hotel rooms has remained resoundingly locked. Naturally, Robin had been avoiding you too.

This is how you ended up sitting next to Eddie Munson at a seedy club somewhere in downtown Cincinnati watching girls dance in cages and listening to him argue with the bartender about which regional hot dog was the best.

From across the room, Nancy catches your eye and flashes a sheepish smile before Jonathan drags her to another corner of the room, drink in hand. Occupying a separate corner, you spot Steve and Argyle in a cloud of women and smoke downing what appears to be their thousandth shot as onlookers cheer on.

You wish it was that easy for you.

“What do you wish was that easy?” Eddie turns suddenly, angling his entire body your way.

You swallow down the embarrassment of having accidentally voiced your thoughts, if only because Eddie’s smirking at you like he knows you’ve been caught.

“You know, walking into a room and not having to worry about doing the wrong thing and immediately making everyone hate you. I wish that was easier.”

He laughs at this, a banging-on-the-table type of ordeal, and you withdraw into yourself at the flash of the callousness you had previously associated with him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he waves, “It’s just that, you could probably spit in everyone’s face when you walk into a room while insulting their mothers and they would still love you. How could anyone not? You’ve got that thing.”

“That thing?”

“Yeah, like,” he gesticulates his arms wildly as if he could catch the words he was looking for between his fingers, “magnetism? But also endearing which is extra annoying. It shines off you, almost? Like…if the rest of the world is silver, you’re this big chunk of gold.”

He ducks his head suddenly, embarrassed and his words mean so much you nearly do the same.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you say instead, and because it is Eddie, you have to add, “although, no one’s ever called me a ‘big chunk’ of anything.”

“Yeah well, someone’s got to keep you humble, right?”

You roll your eyes but even that doesn’t wipe away your smile, in fact, it only grows.

***

ROBIN: Of course, I remember that night! I spent the entire time comforting my best friend while he watched those two make eyes at each other.

It always blew my mind what she could get away with that the rest of us couldn’t. It had only been a month since she rejected Steve on the basis of wanting to keep things professional and here, she was, practically attached at the hip to Eddie—the one guy who hurt Steve the most to see her with—like it’s nothing and the rest of us have to pay the consequence! How was that fair?

***

” So, what do you say? St. Louis after party?” Eddie quips an eyebrow as the two of you stumble down the hallway of your Ohio hotel room, many hours and drinks later.

“I don’t think so, Munson,” you say, far too resolutely for someone who is clinging to the wall.

“What? I thought you had fun! That was fun! Didn’t you have fun?”

His large brown eyes turn a bit desperate at his question. Truthfully, the night was good—not necessarily the exciting endless nights of your teenage years on the Strip—but Eddie did put effort into making it an enjoyable night for you. He kept the drinks flowing and brought you the best of Argyle’s stash of magic pills. He even got into one of the Go-Go cages after losing a drinking game and gave a truthfully hilarious performance. He was so focused on getting off the hook for writing in St. Louis that he ignored every groupie that tried to approach.

Still, you could not shake the hollowness in your heart or the weight of everyone’s attention.

Stopping at your hotel room door (at least you think it is, you’re not quite sure) you turn to put a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you, for working so hard to give me a good night, I appreciate it, but we’re writing in St. Louis. We have to, we’re already behind.”

Placated by this, Eddie nods, smiling, before reaching up to grasp your wrist lightly, the one that’s resting on his shoulder.

“Well, as long as you had some fun—”

The ding of the elevator drowns out the rest of what he was going to say and the two of you jump apart in time to catch a glimpse of a very pissed-off Robin propping up a very out-of-it Steve. Eddie rushes forward, reaching for Steve’s other side, but before he can help her, Robin says, icily and resolutely, “Don’t. You’ve done enough,” causing Eddie to flinch back.

This uncharacteristic snap from Robin has left the two of you stunned, standing in place and far too drunk to know what to do so you both watch, unmoving as Robin struggles comically to get Steve down the hallway to the door next to yours.

Steve, for his part, is glassy-eyed and completely unhelpful to Robin, in fact, you’re certain he’s leaning his entire weight on her. When he makes eye contact, you smile, awkwardly and he turns completely away from your gesture.

“Shit, Steve, where’s your key?” Robin asks, patting away at his pocket in a way only intimate friends could do.

Steve shrugs dismissively in response, “Lost it,” he slurred.

His voice spurs you into action, “Here,” you gesture to Robin, “I can let you in through the inside door.”

The brass player grimaces in response, and you can see her mouth get ready to tell you to fuck off but Steve’s weight on her slight frame gets the best of her, and huffs in forced acceptance, “Fine, whatever.”

You hold the door as the two of them stumble in, a gangly, uncoordinated four-legged monster.

Eddie lingers on the other side of the doorway, Robin’s glare enough to stave him off.

The two of you share a smile, and it looks like he wants to say something but a crash in your room demands your attention.

“Thanks for the night out, Eddie,” you say partially because you must and partially because you don’t recognize the look in his eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You puncture your question with a slight tilt of your head, gesturing towards the cacophony inside.

He nods, understandingly, gulping down his words, and instead offers, “Yeah, sounds good, see you tomorrow.”

You shut the door, ready to accept whatever destruction Steve has inflicted in retaliation, you’re certain, for his broken heart. You deserved it, after all. Any other guy (and in fact, every other guy you had been with before) would’ve probably told you off angrily by now, and, as nice as Steve seemed, it was only a matter of time before he did too.

To your surprise, he is at your vanity, fumbling about with your various pots and compacts and bottles of perfume.

Robin is trying to pull him away, albeit feebly.

“Stop it, Rob,” Steve whines, slapping her grasp away, “I miss the smell.”

***

ROBIN: Pathetic. It was pathetic.

***

STEVE: No, sorry, I don’t remember that happening.

***

Robin realizes now that she is in no place to deny your offer of help so between the two of you you manage to get Steve undressed and put to bed. The already Herculean task is made even more difficult by Robin’s refusal to acknowledge you in any capacity, but it gets done.

“You know, I don’t mean to hurt him,” you mutter, pulling the duvet over Steve’s shoulders.

“Right,” Robin responds, not even looking up, “guess it’s just another one of those things you’re just naturally good at, huh?”

You sigh, frustrated. Maybe it’s the alcohol still circling through your veins, maybe it’s the need to appeal to Robin, whom you had previously had a trouble-free relationship with, but you start to talk.

“Listen, it’s not that I wouldn’t want to be with Steve…it’s that I don’t know how.”

She turns wide-eyed to you now, “You don’t know how to have sex? They have books for that, you know.”

“No, no it’s not that,” you say, and then quieter, after making sure Steve was still passed out in his nest of pillows, “I’ve had sex before. Plenty of sex, with other people—”

“Sure, that sounds super convincing.”

“I’ve just never been in a relationship before. I don’t know how and I’m not sure if I’d be very good at it.” You divert your gaze now from Robin, blushing at your revelation.

“What do you mean? What about Jason Carver? You dated for like six months.”

You fiddle with the blanket bunched at the corner of the bed.

“No, we didn’t. Those were just lies spread by Starcourt to sell more records. I didn’t date any of those assholes. It was all set up.”

Robin lowers down to sit on the edge of the bed opposite you, by Steve’s feet.

“So, what? Everyone needs a first. Is Steve not worth trying for?”

“Of course, he is, Robin! But other people are relying on us not fucking this up and I already know that I will.”

“So, that’s it then? You’re too scared to try just because it doesn’t come easy?”

You pluck angrily at a loose thread and mutter, “You just don’t get it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t. I have to spend my entire life hiding who I love from the world and here you are, getting the opportunity to love someone—and not just anyone but, like, one of the best guys in the world—and have that love be celebrated by other people and instead of choosing to at least try to make it real, you’re sticking to what’s fake because that’s all you know.”

Words block your throat, and your eyes sting with unshed tears.

“I’m gonna go now,” you exhale, shakily before dashing out of the door into your own room. You wait before your certain Robin has left before letting your tears flow.

***

ROBIN: What I said was totally harsh, but I don’t regret it. She needed to hear it.

***

April 13th, 1984, St. Louis Missouri

“So, what’s going on with you and Harrington?”

Eddie wastes no time in asking as he is ushered into your current hotel room.

“What do you mean?” you ask, trying your hardest to sound convincingly confused.

With his guitar case, he gestures towards the door that connects your room to Steve’s, “Every time I come over now, that door is closed.”

You shrug in response, “Dunno. He probably got bored of me.”

Eddie scoffs, unconvinced as he begins to settle on your small couch for a night of writing, “I doubt that Harrington could ever be tired of you.”

You know what he wants to hear—what’ll get him off your back.

“Well… maybe I got bored of him.”

***

STEVE: What do I remember about St. Louis? Well, for one, the hotel walls were really thin.

***

Eddie didn’t ask you about Steve after that, instead, he diverted his attention entirely to showing you all that he had written between Cincinnati and St. Louis. It was a lot. Way more than what you were used to from him. Something had changed recently with him, a crazy wave of creativity that had kicked his songwriting into overdrive. The interesting thing about it was the consistent romantic undertone in most of his songs. It made you curious about what one-night stand could’ve possibly bewitched him to the point where he was writing verses upon verses about her. You try not to think about Eddie’s possible muse too much and try to focus on being grateful for her instead.

The two of you sit on your too-small couch, bodies flush against one another at nearly every point. You lean closer to the guitarist and cheekily pluck the pen out of his hand and scribble some lyrics in his notebook.

“How am I supposed to decipher any of that chicken scratch?” he teases.

Your head snaps up from the page, with the full intention to tell him off but you’re awestruck by your proximity. You’re close enough to see the scar next to his right eye and the flecks of gold in his quickly widening pupils. That partnered with his musky scent of fir trees and tobacco leaves you gaping at him like a fish. Eddie Munson is pretty, you notice. Very much so. Sure, you weren’t so blinded by his arrogance and unpleasantness to not realize he was attractive, but before you had always seen him as hot. He was a guitar player, after all. But now, up close, knowing him, you see the softness of his face and the warmth of his eyes and it’s all quite disarming.

Realizing you had been staring for way more than could be considered appropriate, you snap backward into the farthest corner of the tiny couch putting a sliver of space between the two of you.

“My handwriting is perfectly fine,” you argue, weakly.

And just like that, the moment slips through your fingers and it’s just you and Eddie again, writing songs and teasing each other like nothing happened.

Three hours later, you are finally happy enough with the progress that was made to release Eddie back into the wild. You escort him to the door and the two of you linger in the threshold. His fingers drum against his guitar case, restlessly and he seems like he’s going to say something.

After an unusually awkward moment of silence between the two of you, you decide to move things along.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsals?” you offer, rolling your ankle against the stiff, carpet floor.

In response, Eddie gulps and nods sharply, but doesn’t quite turn to walk away.

Instead, he pulls lightly at one of his curls, like you see him sometimes do while he’s deep in thought, and says something that takes you completely by surprise, “I like writing with you, you know?”

He starts walking backwards, now, eyes still on you but retreating quickly down the hall.

“I like writing with you too,” you respond, softly, too softly, but by the ear-splitting grin on Eddie’s face, you’re certain he heard.

***

You’re not sure how it started. Maybe it was because your nerves at being around Steve for the first time properly since Cinci had made you extra fidgety or maybe it was the feeling of Eddie’s heavy stare tracing the thin straps of your top that had sent a bolt of energy through you, (or maybe it was the hit you’d taken from Argyle’s stash) but you had too much energy to burn at rehearsal. You started dancing a little more than usual on stage—nothing complicated, just a little two-step here and there, maybe a twirl but, by the third song, you had noticed that Steve was beginning to mimic your movements so that the two of you moved together on stage. After that, you played around with it, a little more, not taking it too seriously, but treating it like a game of Simon Says while also trying to guess each other’s next move.

When the song ends, the two of you are a bit more out of breath than normal, but you’re smiling just the same.

“Woah, did you two plan that?” Argyle asks, in awe.

“No,” he chuckles out, “just messing around, I guess.”

“Well, whatever you were doing you should try it on stage tomorrow night, it was cute,” Nancy says decidedly from behind her keyboard.

Sheepish looks are exchanged between you and Steve, and you shrug at him.

“Sure, why not?”

***

ROBIN: There was a lot about the band that was fake, but none of that ever bled into how we were on stage. Even when things were the most difficult between us—I’m talking about when some of us couldn’t even look at each other—all that went away when we were on stage. Especially with our two lead singers. During that first tour, when Steve had confessed his feelings and she left him totally heartbroken, that didn’t affect their chemistry at all.

I remember that day in St. Louis, during rehearsal, they were messing around together, doing this silly little dance during All About You and it turns into this whole choreographed bit. We didn’t have a fancy set production or even a coordinator back then, so all the little dances they did, that was all them.

People went crazy for them, and it became a thing that people were expecting us to do.

EDDIE: Listen, I think we can both admit I was never the frontman type like Harrington—I’m too hard to swallow and my singing voice ain’t all that, plus all that attention would make me go nuts—but seeing the two of them, up there, dancing, and smiling and singing to each other like there was no one else in the room? Can’t say that was easy for me, no.

STEVE: You know, part of me started to hate performing? Well, maybe not hate, but it was difficult. The crowd would go crazy when we interacted, and the more we danced with each other, the more we shared a mic or got really close, the more the crowd cheered. So, we did those things a lot throughout the shows. And sometimes, when she would reach out and touch my face or look at me with those eyes, well, it felt real almost like we were the only two people in the room and we weren’t pretending, we were just being. And then we would get off stage and go back to being strangers.

It’s the almost having something that always hurts the most.

***

“Hey, where are you going?”

The show is over, and the crowds are long gone, and the venue is deserted. It’s late but, for most of the band, the night is just beginning. While the rest were getting ready for another night out, you were gearing up for a long night of songwriting with Eddie and were just about ready to find him and head to the hotel when he breezes by, arm wrapped around some unknown girl, without as much as a glance in your direction.

Your question catches his attention, and he stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn around.

“Eddie,” you continue, “I thought we agreed we were going to write tonight.”

“Sorry, change of plans,” he tosses over his shoulder and then continues on without further explanation.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘change of plans’? We made a deal,” you charge behind him.

“Yeah, well, that was before Arabella told me about this bar downtown that—”

You don’t even let him finish.

“No offense, but I don’t give a shit about who Arabella is or what she told you, we have a deadline to meet!”

Eddie stops at this and his date, who you now realize is probably the Arabella he was referring to, takes the moment to fully glare at you. You shoot her a half-hearted shrug in place of an apology.

For his part, Eddie is regarding you like he’s thinking over a math problem or trying to figure out a particularly tricky chord progression. His expression changes, however, as soon as he spots the rest of the band approaching behind you.

“Raincheck?” He offers dismissably.

You cross your arms and scoff. Truly, who the hell did he think he was?

“Go fuck yourself, Eddie.”

You give him no chance to respond before you turn around and stalk off in the opposite direction, not caring that the exit is in the other direction.

You walk past the others as you do and reactions to your outburst range from full guffaws (Argyle, Jonathan) to awkward grimaces (Nancy) to something right in between (Robin). Steve, on the other hand, looks almost angry and while you’re not sure who that anger is directed at—you have too much of your own to worry about it.

“Hey! Don’t be that way, we can write another night, I promise!” You hear Eddie calling out behind you, and suddenly this has become a full-on scene, but you keep walking.

He calls out for you again, this time you pick up on the light desperation coloring his voice but again, you don’t dare turn around. He calls out your name one last time and this time you do respond—by flipping him off.

***

ARABELLA CHEN (FORMER GROUPIE): I remember that! She was kind of a bitch, to be frank. You know, back then I tried not to hang around girls too much, they were always so much drama.

EDDIE: Why did I blow her off? Hm, not sure. I wasn’t doing any drugs back then so I can’t blame it on that. You know what? It was probably because I was...God, what’s the phrase? Oh, right. A jealous immature asshole.

***

You head to the hotel on your own that night, feeling annoyed and only a little bit lonely. You try to do some writing, but you're so wound up that it's no use, so you end up calling it a night early.

You are too wound up to even sleep and you spend the majority of the night falling asleep only to stir awake at the last minute, your energy too high to let you rest. You’re no longer angry and annoyed, though, mostly you're hungry.

You commiserate over the fact that Robin usually was your late-night snack supplier but obviously, she was no longer willing. And because Hopper had blown up at Eddie and Argyle for ordering $650 worth of room service in Nashville after getting a wicked case of the munchies which left you no choice by to shop the hotel vending machines to possible quiet your hunger.

The sad, barely-stocked machines were nestled at the end of the hall in a small separate room that also housed the ice machine You're scanning the rows of candy bars and chip bags trying to find something that was from this decade when the aggressive shrill of the elevator pulls your attention.

There's a cacophony of clumsy noises coming from the elevator. From where you're standing, you can see the occupants stumbling out, a flurried mess of limbs and hair. Eddie and the girl he had had on his arm. The one who had told him about the awesome bar or whatever. Arabella. It was a stupid name, truly. Like a fancy dog or a part of the royal family.

Likely, they can't see you from their spot, or maybe they could but they weren't so preoccupied trying to get Arabella's tongue all the way down Eddie's throat that they didn't. You stayed frozen in place as you watched them stumble to his room, fingers interwoven through hair and hands wandering underneath fabric. Eventually, Eddie hoisted her up and she wrapped her long, golden legs around his torso and you caught a glimpse of her nearly non-existent panties.

Finally, they clumsily stumbled into his room and you were able to escape from your hiding spot, snacks fully forgotten.

You tried to go to bed after that, hoping that the anger and annoyance you had felt earlier in the night had finally dissipated. And while those feelings had quieted, something else equally white-hot through the night you come to realize when after startling awake for the thousandth time you recall fragments of your dream. First, you remember Eddie, and then the girl he was with Arabella. And then you remember the rest. Hot, bare, skin-on-skin, and open-mouth kisses flood your memory, and you can't help but blush. You had been having a dirty dream about your bandmate. A bandmate that you had just had a very public fight with and to top it all off the girl that he chose to spend the night with over you also made a guest appearance in said dirty dream.

Yeah, that was fucked.

You sit up, blankets pulling around your waist and try to blink away the shame and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

It's not a big deal you tell yourself. Everyone has dirty dreams they're not proud of every once in a while. So, what if yours was about Eddie? It was probably an indication that you hadn't gotten any action in a really, really, long. Given your contractually obligated fake relationship, was that truly a surprise?

Your halfhearted attempts to go back to sleep are only met with visions of dark hair and long, ringed fingers exploring supple, rounded flesh.

When you finally decide it's no use, you get to writing instead.

***

The next day during sound check, you avoid Eddie. Partially because you’re still annoyed at him for blowing you off, and partially because the dream you had about him was still far too fresh in your mind you couldn’t count on yourself not to blush in his presence. He was not getting the message though, because he seemed to trail behind you the entire time. Not too close where it was obvious to the others, but close enough that you, the person who was actively trying to avoid him, noticed.

Eventually, you have no choice but to acknowledge him when he all but corners you as you’re leaving the restroom.

“Did you get the…things?” he asks lamely.

“What thing?” you ask, trying to gently push past him.

He looks nervous now, and a bit ashamed, but almost in a cute way like a chastised puppy.

“You, know, the things—” you continue to stare at him, blankly and he has no choice but to elaborate— “the flower things.”

Oh. That was him?

“Oh,” you respond, “That was you?”

It his turn to look befuddled now, bordering on mortified, “Who else could they have been from?”

“I don’t know,” you respond nonchalantly, “I kind of get flowers all the time.”

That was true. Back when you were going on fake dates for photo opps with every warm male body at Starcourt, you were receiving so many thank-you bouquets and charcuterie baskets you had run out of flat surfaces to put them on.

So, this morning when there had been a loud knock at your door, you had been more concerned about telling off whoever decided it was okay to bang on your door in the early hours of the morning (11 AM) than figuring out who sent the obnoxiously large bouquet that had been waiting for you when you opened the door.

“Plus, there was no note,” you add with a shrug.

“Well, of course, there was no note, the depth of my remorse and shame regarding my behavior last night is far too vast to fit onto a measly 3x5 piece of paper. I wanted to apologize in person, like a man.”

***

EDDIE: It was my first time getting someone flowers. I didn’t realize there was a note you had to write.

***

You stare at him, arms crossed and expectingly.

“I’m sorry I blew you off last night to go to a bar downtown with a mechanical bull and I am even more sorry about how much of a dick I was about it. Even though the mechanical bull was a lot of fun, it would’ve been even more fun if you were there. If it’s any consolation, I got knocked off the bull almost immediately. It was humiliating. I deserved it though after the way I spoke to you and if you’d like me, I’d like to make it up to you tonight. What do you say? I’ll buy you a bottle of that wine you like and we’ll have a hot and heavy writing sesh.”

It's at this point that you realize how close the two of you were. Eddie had you essentially caged against the wall, clearly trying to prevent you from slipping past him like you had all afternoon. The proximity along with hearing Eddie say “hot and heavy” immediately brought back memories that you were trying to avoid.

“Maybe,” you croak, as you duck underneath his arm and scurry around him, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the heat of his body. “Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.”

***

EDDIE: She didn’t get back to me that day. Or the three days after that. She avoided me like the plague, actually. I had thought that the flowers and the heartfelt apology would’ve helped smooth things over a little but I guess I hadn’t realized how much I hurt her feelings.

Of course, I was kicking myself. I was sure that I had wrecked my chances. I told myself it was my fault for ever believing that I could ever have a chance with someone like her. I was ready to accept that it was all over before it ever even began.

And then the strangest thing happened.

***

April 20th, 1984, Pontiac, Missouri

It wasn’t like you were an overly sexual creature. Sure, you enjoyed sex, and you had sex a healthy amount of time, but you had never felt like if you didn’t have sex you would die. Until now.

Maybe it was all the time on the road that was getting to you. Maybe this was some weird psychological thing and your brain associated hotel linens with sexy rendezvous. Maybe being in a (fake) romantic relationship made you crave sexual intimacy as well. Whatever the reason was, you could not shake this growing hunger that burned in the pit of your stomach, and it was starting to affect you outside of just messing with your sleep.

Not only were the dreams happening more often now, but they were no longer just about Eddie. You had them about former flings, and old crushes, Steve was starting to become a frequent player. You think you may have had one about Nancy once, which was very surprising but not unwelcome.

You weren’t proud to admit it, but you saw Steve’s treasure trail once and had to spend 20 minutes in the bathroom splashing water on your face. Something very similar happened when Eddie wore a muscle tank to rehearsal.

You had tried handling the issue yourself and while you were able to get the job done, it always left you wanting more.

If you kept having dreams like these, you were eventually going to run out of bandmates you could look in the eye without blushing.

It wasn’t like you could hook up with someone random either. Outside of the obvious reason, it was too much of a risk for your relationship with Steve, both the fake one and the very tender one you had behind the scenes. Steve was the obvious choice to help resolve your issue because of the mutual attraction but you are certain if the two of you started having sex, no matter how casual you could claim it would be, feelings would start to develop sooner rather than later. He was too easy to like for that not to be the case.

You could’ve just ignored it and hoped it would go away, really, you could’ve. In fact, that would’ve been the sensible thing to do. Hell, you could’ve discreetly found a shop to purchase a vibrator and maybe this whole thing would’ve been resolved. But no, instead, you end up in front of Eddie Munson’s hotel door somewhere in Missouri about to set off a chain of events that was going to impact you for the rest of your life.

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

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@rexorangecouny , @persophonekarter @mystargirl-interlude @brinleighsstuff @thegaysaretired @nothing2-see @harrysvirgogf @Prior-antidote @stardustofyesterday

#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #jonathan byers #eddie munson x yn #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x f!reader #steve harrington x f!reader

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sanguineterrain · 1 year

Note

ohhh how about 30: “one more chapter.” from list 3 with stevie? i feel like he loves sitting you between his legs and making you read to him! no doubt you'll make it spectacularly fluffy <3

i swear i'll get to all of these requests 😭

a smidgen of angst but mostly fluff. friends to lovers. steve being a cutie 💓 gn!reader. thank u for requesting bb

****

"... I shall go, notwithstanding. It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself compared with him."

You pause and turn. Steve is tucked beside you, hair shielding his face. You admire him for a moment; you study his hand that rests on the pillow, veins stretched taut. You watch him breathe and the width of his shoulders that rise and fall as he does so. You track the little slice of skin that peeks out where his shirt is rucked up.

God, you are in deep shit.

He must be asleep. You can leave now, though you want to do anything but. It's getting harder to every day.

But you have to. You have to because if you don't, your stupid feelings will get in the way, and you're sure to say something that'll permanently damage this friendship you've forged.

And you can't do that. It doesn't matter how you feel; you can't lose Steve.

"'Y'd you stop?"

You jump. Steve pushes his lion's mane back and blinks up at you.

He is beautiful. You should've left when you had the chance.

"Huh? Oh, um, because I... I have to go."

"Go? You just got here," he says with a frown.

You laugh. "No, Steve, I didn't just get here. I've been reading for almost an hour, actually."

"That's barely any time," he declares. "C'mon, one more chapter."

"You fell asleep!"

"No, I was listening! 'S just your voice is so nice, I started to rest my eyes." Steve pouts. "Not my fault."

"Oh, for—I am not your personal lecturer, Steve. You know you can read this on your own."

"Well, you know I'm not gonna do that," he says, sitting up. "Anyway, why d'you have to go? You can just stay over. You have clothes here."

The universe must be testing you. Cruelly so. You take one step back, trying to create space, and Steve takes five steps forward, closing the distance all over again. You're friends, but sometimes Steve washes clothes you leave at his place and makes you breakfast and curls up next to you when you watch a movie.

And then that line—that quintessential line that separates friends and definitely-not-friends—blurs. You try to grab it, and you grab Steve instead. And you fight to find the line again, but Steve just snuggles deeper and makes more waffles and eggs over easy and then–then—

"Hey." Steve waves a hand in front of you. "Where'd you go?"

"Sorry. Uh, nowhere. I, um... my mom, she doesn't like me walking this late."

"But I'd drive you home."

"Yes, but—"

You struggle to untangle yourself. Steve'll see through you. He's a lot more perceptive than most people give him credit for. He'll sense something is up. But you can't worry about that.

You shove your book under your armpit and hold it tightly. Steve kneels on the edge of the bed, face scrunched.

"I always drive you home," he says. "And you used to stay over all the time. Why don't you anymore?"

"I do stay over," you argue senselessly.

"No, you don't. You're always in a rush to get home these days."

God, you hate that. You hate how torn up he sounds. You don't mean to do it. You never want to make Steve sad.

"I just..." You glance down at your book. "I have a nervous mother. You know how she is. After the earthquakes..."

"But she trusts me," Steve says. "And you used to not care about what she said. Why are you avoiding me?"

Steve's cheek has pillow marks. You've never seen him so relaxed. Sometimes, it looks like he hasn't slept in years.

"I'm not avoiding you," you say. "I just... I can't read another chapter, Steve."

"You don't have to. We can do anything you want."

No, not anything. He has no idea what he's promising.

Your gaze dips to his lips.

"I'll come over tomorrow," you plead.

"Y/N," Steve murmurs, and it doesn't sound any way he's ever said your name before.

It holds weight.

You remain quiet, barely breathing as he takes your hands in his and pulls you so your knees press against the bed.

"If I do anything you don't like," he begins, impossibly soft. "You knock some sense into me with that book, 'kay?"

"I would never," you whisper.

Steve closes his eyes before you close yours. You're glad he's so confident to do as much.

And then he kisses you.

He tastes like mint gum, but his mouth is hot like cider. You gasp. Your book falls to the floor.

Steve pulls back in alarm, hands on your face.

"Y'okay?"

"Keep kissing me," you demand, chasing his mouth.

So he pulls you back on the bed, and he does just that. Steve eases you back onto his pillow. His hair tickles your cheek. You kiss him until you need air.

"Okay," you say against his jaw.

"Okay, what?" Steve asks, still gentle.

"I'll read you another chapter."

He grins and kisses you again.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #gender neutral reader #sanne's birthday bash #alice tag 🐇#inbox #blurb

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ornii · 1 year

Text

Bitterly Beautiful

Chapter 5: My Family and I never see Eye to Eye.

"Nevermore was created as a safe haven for our children to learn and to grow, no matter who or what they are. I realize most of you have heard about the unfortunate incident involving one of our students. But I'm happy to report that Eugene is on the mend and is expected to make a full recovery. So let's focus on the positive and make this Parents' Weekend our very best yet." Principal Weems gives this speech to try to Alleviate the concerns of parents and students alike. But much to her unfortunate situation, three students were not buying her talks of peace, and they stood together, watching her. Wednesday, Enid and (Y/n).

"On the mend? Try in a coma." Wednesday said.

"Have you been to see him? You're his friend." Enid says to Wednesday.

"I'm the reason he's in the hospital." She replies, and (Y/n) turns to her direction.

"That is not your fault, it's the monsters. It's been silent this week, maybe we scared it off."

"Or maybe it went into hiding to avoid this weekend."Wednesday says, (Y/n) sniffs the air and looks around.

"I smell an aura of death looming.. your parents must be nearby." (Y/n) says, and Wednesday keeps scanning the room.

"How annoyingly perceptive of you." She says, "I knew I should have worn my plague mask."

"Would you look at my family?" Enid says, they look over to them running and prancing about like dogs. "Talk about toxic pack mentality. I give my mom 30 seconds before her judge-y claws come out." She says, (Y/n) shrugs.

"My parents don't come here, guess I'm free... you know, I'd love to meet your family Wednesday."

"Absolutely Not."

"Why not, they seem... unique." He says wearily.

"The combination of your lack of self awareness and their overall dismay and annoyance will form a black hole and suck everything inside."

"..." Enid looks at (Y/n), who was a bit stunned. "I'm.. gonna go." She says.

"Yeah, say hey to your mom for me." He says and Enid strolls off.

"Seriously how bad can it be?" (Y/n) takes a step forward to her parents and Wednesday grabs him by the wrist, like a vise grip, she's unmoving, he slowly turns to face her, and she glared at him like a demon is taking over her.

"What. Did. I. Tell. You?" She says, and before he can respond and probably dig himself a deeper hole, her family spots Wednesday holding his wrist.

"There she is. Oh, how we missed those accusing eyes and youthful sneer." A voice calls out, (Y/n) and Wednesday turn to the origin of the sound and it's her family approaching, seeming them "Holding hands." They quickly separate and the first to hug Wednesday was Gomez, a slightly short but very stout man of Hispanic origin. He hugs Wednesday who seems as vexed as usual. "And you must be one of Wednesday's new friends." Gomez says to (Y/n), who turns his attention to dwarfs him, he feels Wednesday staring a hole into the side of his head.

"He must be much more than just a friend, ive never seen anyone being held with such...ferocity by Wednesday, How are you, my little rain cloud?" Morticia, the illustrious maiden of the Addams family.

A tall, beautiful woman asked, long black hair and a stunning figure.

"I thought Thing was filling you in on my every move. I uncovered your feeble subterfuge almost immediately." She says, to the unfortunate dismay of her parents.

"So, how's the little fella doing? Does he still have all his fingers?" Gomez asks.

"Relax. I haven't snapped any of his digits. Yet." Wednesday says, they turn their attention to the man next to her.

"And you are?" Morticia asks. "(Y/n) Healy, Wednesday is dorm mates with a good friend of mine, and so we sort of just became friends." He explains.

"He's blind and helpless." Wednesday says, slightly deflating what he said. Morticia breaths a sigh of relief.

"He's blind, ah, that's fine I hate looking people in their eyes anyway." She says, trying to be, nice? (Y/n) looked beside himself after hearing that.

"Did.. did she just—" he begins, But Gomez gives him a hug as well.

"It's nice to see our little viper has Snared herself her own mouse." He says, "Welcome to the family." He says, and Wednesday is fuming. Its Pugsleys turn and he seems, simple.

"Are you a ghost?" He asks (Y/n) who raises an eyebrow.

"Uh, no? Why ask?"

"It's just.. I Never expected Wednesday to have a friend that still has a beating heart." He said, (Y/n) finds this a bit numerous and smiles.

"Heh, no my hearts still beating, unless she rips it out later. But you wouldn't do that to your friend right?" He says turning to her, Wednesdays face was locked in this expression of cold dead silence. She leans in to whisper into his ear.

"I will do, such painfully unspeakable things to you when they leave." She says with the utmost murderous intent. (Y/n) laughs awkwardly, but the Addams seem, unfazed by this.

"So, how has it been my Dear?" Morticia asks Wednesday who turns to her mother.

"Since you've abandoned me here, I've been hunted, haunted... and the target of an attempted murder." Wednesday smirks just so slightly.

"Ah, Nevermore. I love you so." Gomez smiles at this, reveling in the Chaos.

"Please Mr Healy, would you excuse us?" Morticia says as the Addams family leaves, (Y/n) just shakes his head.

"I, think I understand what Wednesday meant.." he says, his train of thought was interrupted by howling, and him getting jumped on. He doesn't resists as they laugh and he can recognize that laughter from anywhere. They help him up as he sighs.

"You guys, try and be more gentle."

"Sorry man!" One says, it was Enids brothers, which they were laughing and howling out as usual.

"How's Enid taking seeing her parents?" (Y/n) asks. They snicker and elbow each other.

"Bout as much as you can expect, still building up the guts to." One brother points to Enid still a bit away from her parents. (Y/n) walks over to her, they say nothing to each other for a moment. He offers his hand and she takes it, nervous.

"It's okay, just focus, it's just one weekend." (Y/n) says, and Enid takes a deep breath. They walk over and Enid begins to count. "One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand—" she begins

"Enid! Have you not been waxing?" Her mother asks.

"Three seconds. That's a personal best." She replies. (Y/n) chimes in. "It's good to see you too Miss Sinclair." He says, and she hugs them both.

"It's so good to see you too! You've been watching after Enid right? Making sure she finds the right mate?" Her mother, as inquisitive as ever says, much to Enids embarrassment.

"As much as I can.." he says sheepishly. "Perfect, you're always welcome in our pack." She says, but senses sometimes is wrong.

"Are you feeling well? You're looking a touch anemic. Have you been eating enough red meat?" She says to them both.

"It's good to see you too, Mom. And you, Dad." Enid says, but taking much effort to do so.

The Addams family enter the Principals office. As Morticia looks at the yearbook.

"Our old yearbook. I haven't laid eyes on this in over 20 years. Such good times we had, didn't we, Larissa?"

"Some of us better than others." Larissa replies with a smile, hiding the darkenss.

"Oh, don't be so modest. You always filled a room with your presence. Like a stately sequoia tree."

"And I guess that would make you the lumberjack."

"There's that biting sense of humor that I always adored. Do you remember when we did that duet for the Solstice Talent Show? Your Judy Garland impression was a dead ringer."

"Sounds positively suicidal." Wednesday chimes in.

"Oh. My picture's gone." Morticia says, and Weems smirks coyly.

"Really? Well, that is odd."

"May I borrow this for the weekend? That way Gomez and I can take a little walk down memory lane." Morticia asks.

"All right. Let's get down to the matter at hand, shall we? Hmm? Unfortunately, Wednesday's assimilation has been ...rocky at best." Weems begins.

"Because I refuse to embrace the culture of dishonesty and denial permeating this school. Starting with the monster that killed Rowan and put Eugene in the ICU. Although I do hear he's "on the mend." Wednesday says with scathing sarcasm.

"We've always encouraged Wednesday to speak her mind. Sometimes her sharp tongue can cut deep." Gomez said.

"Apparently her therapist feels she hasn't been very open to the process. Their time together has not yielded the results we'd hoped." Weems replies.

"I'm not a lab rat."

"Dr. Kinbott and I have spoken, and we both agree it would be most beneficial for you all to attend a family session this weekend." Weems offers.

"No." Wednesday replies.

"I thought that might be your reaction, but your parents can see the wisdom in it." Weems sneers.

"Um, not to side with Wednesday, but, um, we're only here for the weekend." Morticia begins.

"Oh, come on. What can it hurt? To be honest, I've always been a big fan of head-shrinking." Gomez said.

"It's not that kind of head-shrinking, mon chéri."

"Well, that is disappointing." Gomez says sadly.

"But anything for our little girl." Morticia says, much to the growing hatred of Wednesday Addams. The entire family was inside the Therapists office. They entire family is fairly silent.

"So, who wants to start? Maybe we can discuss what it's like having Wednesday away from home?" The therapists asks. Pugsley was the first to speak up,

"I mean, for me..it's been hard not having Wednesday around. I never thought I'd miss being waterboarded so much." He said.

"Morticia, Gomez. How have you been coping?" She asks.

"It's been torture for us too." Morticia begins

"Gomez: Fortunately, my brother Fester's rack fits two people."

"Morticia: Nothing like a good stretch to bring out the best in each other. Querida mía."

Morticia and Gomez cannot keep their hands off of each other, which just triggers Wednesdays eruption.

"Enough! I think it's high time my parents faced the music. It seems they've been lying to me. Keeping secrets. Murderous secrets that need to be addressed. Who was Garrett Gates, and why are you accused of murdering him?" She says, the question obviously triggers some, unpleasant memories for them both.

"Those charges were dropped. Your father is an innocent man." Morticia said.

"Local sheriff doesn't seem too convinced."

"Wednesday, stop. This is neither the time nor the place."

"Actually, this is exactly the place. These sessions are—"

"Doctor. This does not concern you. And I refuse to debate a decades-old witch-hunt with you right now. I—"

"Darling, maybe we should.." Gomez begins, but Morticia stops.

"No. This session is over."

"Have it your way, Mother." Wednesday stands up to leave.

"Wednes... Wednesday?" Morticia Rose as well.

"If you refuse to tell me the truth, I'll just have to excavate it myself." Wednesday leaves as Pugsley smiles.

"You... Thanks for the candy." He says to the the therapist.

"Actually, that's potpourri… Why don't you take the bowl?" she says, and Pugsley happily takes it. Outside, Wednesday is being scolded by her mother.

"What were you thinking? How could you ambush your father like that? Wednesday!"

"How could I? You insisted I go to this school. Did you really think I wouldn't find out your secret? You don't know the full story."

"Your father did nothing wrong."

"I'll be the judge of that." Wednesday leaves, heading to the Hospital finally to see Eugene. He was still working a coma, a breathing mask keeps air pumping through his lungs. She places a jar of honey down.

"I harvested hive number three. The bees miss you, Eugene. We all do." She continues, near a heartbeat monitor, thing crawls away from it.

"Thanks for keeping an eye on him. Any updates?" She asks and thing shakes his finger.

"He didn't deserve this. I should be in that bed. Why did you go without me?" She says to thing, a shadowy figure creeps up behind and touches her shoulder, Wednesday jerks her head around, just to (Y/n).

"Huh. Think that's the first time I've seen you scared." he says. He walks up next to her and focuses on Eugene.

"... Had enough of your family?" He asks.

"Much so..I brought him some honey." Wednesday says. She sniffs a bit and scowls.

"Why do you smell like you were trampled upon by hellhounds?"

"Enid." He responds calmly. It was dead silence for about 30 seconds, before he sensed that he made a terrible mistake.

"What did you just say?" She says, he picks up and snaps out of it.

"Sorry, Enids Family, her Brothers can be a bit, too much, her mom was all over me asking questions about how Enids doing and "Wolfing out." He explains, Wednesday now is more interested.

"You two seem disgustingly close.." she begins, and he smiles.

"Yeah, I met Enid when we first both came to Nevermore, and it was maybe a year in that there was. The incident." He says, which piques Wednesdays interest even more.

"Incident?" She asks, and he sighs.

"Promise you won't tell her or anyone?" He says, and Wednesday thinks about it for a moment and agrees.

"I'll take this secret to the grave."

"For whatever reason I truly do believe you." He says, and begins to tell it.

"So.. you know how animals have heat cycles, right? Well turns out, so do Wolves... very, aggressive ones. And be being the dumb blind kid I am, i took a box of tampons to Enid for her, well you know.." he explains and he rewinds to that fateful day, a one year younger (Y/n) approaches with a suspicious box. He knocks on the door to the dorm of Enid.

"Enid, I brought the.. you know." He says, he taps it again and the door creaks open. (Y/n) looks a bit, concerned, it was pitch black and he takes a step in.

"Enid? Are you okay?" He says, and there was silence. He closes it and feels a harrowing chill in the air, he walks to the door and closes it. He takes a few more steps inside, and what catches his ear, was the slightly growling from the corner. He turns to it, and takes a step forward.

"E-Enid?" He asks, and something lunges at him, and it was all a blur. Time returns back to (Y/n) and Wednesday.

"So, a hormonal frustrated werewolf teenager almost mauled and sexually assaulted you to death." Wednesday says, and (Y/n) nods.

"Yeah, I got Yeah, if you found random bloodstains Under your bed that was my blood. After that She cried and apologized, and, we sort of, I guess bonded somehow. She's not a bad person by any means, it's just the hand she was given was a bad one." He says, "don't hold it against her." He asks Wednesday.

"That still doesn't explain why you call each other.. "Bestie" Wednesday says trying not to vomit. (Y/n) sighs and takes his coat off, Wednesday watches confused as (Y/n) removes his sweater, and begins to unbutton his shirt.

"What are you—" she begins, and stops, watching him unbutton his shirt to reveal his bare chest and she just stares at it. He takes it off and turns around, she then sees eight distinct claw marks on his back, they're old but can still be seen.

"That.. was Enid. And usually when a Werewolf wants to mark their mate, this is how they do it. But I don't.. well me and Enid don't like each other that much, so rather being mates were.. besties. She's like a sister to me, i just want the best for her." He explains. He turns back to Wednesday who looks more, concerned.

"Hm." She says, "So you stay around Enid because those marks, symbolize a bond you cannot break. I find that idea primitive, but I can see it means much to you if you've been by her side ever since then. I'll refrain from insulting it." Wednesday says.

"...Thanks." He replies with a warning smile.

".. Now button yourself up, i don't want to have to keep staring at your refined abdomen."

"Yeah you right— wait, refined?" He says smirking. "You think I'm Hot—"

"Do Not. Push it." Wednesday coldly Fires back, she and (Y/n) leave back to Nevermore, where a vast lunch is being served. (Y/n) decides best to eat with Enids family, which truly has grown into his own as well.

"Mmm. I am famished. You're not hungry, darling?" Morticia asks Wednesday who folds his arms.

"My appetite eludes me, Mother. The same way the truth eludes you." She says and walks off, Gomez walks over, having listened to the conversation.

"We need to tell her." He says.

"She'll never believe us. We must stay strong. And hope that something more morbid comes along to distract her." Morticia says, "Or my new son in law."

(Y/n) eats calmly next to Enid as her brothers gouge down on food, her mother looks at Enid.

"So are you going to make me ask?" She says, and Enid smirks a bit.

"Ajax and I haven't defined our relationship yet."

"I'm not talking about boys, well besides— Nevermind, Have you wolfed out yet?" She asks, which just causes Enids moon to deflate.

"No."

"Well, that is a disappointment." Her mother says, and Enid slumps down.

"That's me. A huge disappointment." She says, (Y/n) gentle nudges her to try to cheer her up but, she just shakes her head. His moment of trying to cheer her up was interrupted very scarily by the door to Nevermore opening. The Sheriff, along with other police storm over to Gomez, and (Y/n) can feel the footsteps, a few members.

"Can I ask what this is about, Sheriff?" Weems says, but he ignores her and keeps approaching.

"Gomez Addams." Sherrif Galpin says.

"How can I help you, Sheriff?" Gomez says calmly, but his quickly apprehended.

"You're under arrest for the murder of Garrett Gates. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you." He says, and takes him away, much confusion and suspicion rolls though Nevermore, and began to look for Wednesday, who was more angry that confused. The two are standing in a corridor hours later, and (Y/n) speaks to her.

"It's too convenient..." my father returns on parents day and is arrested?" She says. And (Y/n) adds more information.

"Not Just that, but there's something you have to know."

"What is that?"

"The Coroner, he blew his brains out today. Said it was guilt from falsifying evidence from the case your father was in, this is too convenient.” He says, and Wednesday is now even more convinced.

".. Then that proves it, my father is being set up, the coroner, the file, all of this was a ploy." She said.

"Then there's only one thing left to do, hearing from the man himself.."

Gomez was apprehended and put into his prison garments and had a visitor. He was surprised by Wednesday, who was accompanied by (Y/n) in a Nevermore hoodie, which was fairly comfortable He motions for her to sit.

"My little tormenta, how's your mother?" He asks.

"Devastated. She hates you in orange. I caught her laying a rose on a grave earlier today. The headstone read "Garrett Gates." The very boy you've been arrested for murdering. Care to explain? " she says, and (Y/n) kneels down next to the sitting Wednesday.

"I think it's best if we hear it all from you." He said, and Gomez begins begins to tell it.

"Garrett was infatuated with your mother. He mistook her kindness for interest. His infatuation turned into obsession, and he started stalking her."

"Why didn't you call the police?"

"We tried. But his family were the oldest and richest in Jericho. No one believed us. Garrett's father, an outcast-hating bigot, was furious that your mother had accused his only son. It all came to a head the night of the Rave'N Dance. Your mother and I stepped out to catch our breath. And that's when I saw him. He had broken into the school. His twisted love for your mother had made him insane. His eyes bore into me, brimming with murderous intent. My life flashed before my eyes. Driven by jealousy and hate, Garrett was unstoppable. We fought along the scaffolding, and When I saw the sword, my survival instinct kicked in. I rose the sword up, and he ran into it..It was a terrible accident." Gomez gives the tale and the two began to consider it. Wednesday and (Y/n) are in the corner discussing it.

"If I'm being objective, his confession sounds entirely plausible, delivered with the perfect degree of sincerity. Perhaps my father is exactly what he says. Thank you for being honest with me. But then there's the matter of his tells. The way he smooths his mustache. The way he delivers a comforting wink. I've been playing Russian roulette with him since I was 12. I know them well."

"I.. see.. then it's possible this was at least negligent Homicide, or Manslaughter. It doesn't sound premeditated.. seems like self defense." He says, Wednesday returns and sits, and Gomez sadly looks ashamed.

"I'm sorry I wasn't a better father."

"Could we please do without the overt display of emotion?" Wednesday said.

"I know they make you feel uncomfortable."

"How many fathers hand their daughter a fencing blade when she's five?"

"Your saber strokes were an essay in perfection."

"Or teach her how to swim with sharks?"

“Sharks?” (Y/n) chimes in, peering from the corner.

"They found you as cold-blooded as I do."

"The right way to flay a rattlesnake?"

"They really do taste like chicken when prepared properly."

"The point is, you taught me how to be strong and independent. How to navigate myself in a world full of treachery and prejudice. You are the reason I understand how imperative it is that I never lose sight of myself. So as far as fatherhood goes, I would say you've been more than adequate." Wednesday said, as cold, as unfeeling as she was sometimes, she truly does care for her family.

"Gracias, Wednesday." He says so warmly, the Two leave, and talk about it. (Y/n) wipes a tear coming down his cheek.

"Why are you crying?" She asks.

"Sorry Just, glad your dads in your life, seems like a good man."

"Like I Said before, your mother and father were afraid of your power. Instead of trying to control it, they tried to maim you. I say you're better off with Enids Hellhounds."

"Yeah, guess I am... or yours—"

"That's Strike number two."

"Okay okay, im just teasing you. You know, poking fun."

"The last person who "Poked" me lost a finger."

"Noted." He feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out. Which then speaks.

"Text Message from Enid: OMG, it's absolutely terrible, no vibe check here, R U coming over, Plz, crying emoji, sad face emoji, dog emoji, dog emoji, dog emoji." The phone says. He puts it away and turns to her.

"You want to come? I'd be nice for you to try and relax and focus."

"No, Enid requires your attention, and... presence." Wednesday says, she exhales and shivers a bit, the cold wind biting on her. He sees this, and takes it upon himself. He removes his hoodie and hands it to her.

"..Why are you giving me this?" She said.

"Because you’re cold, well colder than usual. And if you start sniffling and sneezing im taking that plague mask." He says jokingly, Wednesday hesitates, but takes it, she puts it off over her Nevermore clothing and it was obviously too big but the way her small frame tried to take over the hoodie was just, dreadfully adorable.

"I suppose this will help against the cold, you may go back to Enid now." Wednesday says, almost like dismissing her dog. He just scoffs.

"You're right, well I'm glad you're not being so jealous about her anymore." He says walking away, and Wednesdays turns to him and she was about to yell, but she stops, a smell hits her nostrils and she sniffs the hoodie, which smells of Black roses, a perfect aroma. She watches him leave and then inhaled deeply, and sighed.

"... I suppose I don't hate his scent.." she says, she also walks off, but to the Sheriffs office, where he sits at his desk ready a newspaper. Until a voice snaps him from it.

"We need to talk."

"How the hell did you get in? Bernice? Bernice!"

"Bernice may or may not have received a call that her tabby cat Swifty is being held for ransom. My father did not kill Garrett Gates."

"Well, I have his signed confession, and he identified the saber he used to do it. Both of which I'm about to deliver to the District Attorney."

"Don't you find the timing convenient? The coroner kills himself out of remorse for a decades-old murder case the very weekend my father, your prime suspect, deigns to return to town."

"All I see is a guilty man who's finally going to pay for his crime. And cuffing him myself, oh, that was the icing on the cake." He smirks, drinking his coffee.

"If you cannot see the set up that's happening before you. You're Just as Blind as (Y/n). I found the monster's cave, and I gave you the DNA evidence. Did you even bother to test it?"

"This may come as a shock, but the world doesn't revolve around you. I did, DNA results, No match. Inconclusive."

"So you truly believe this is all some coincidence? Whoever hurt Eugene also murdered the coroner."

"Unfortunately, someone sabotaged the security camera in the morgue, so we don't know what happened. They stuck bubblegum on the lens." The sheriff said, and Wednesday remembers now.

"Black bubblegum. Maybe I should run DNA on that?" the sheriff said.

"Someone is trying to throw me off my game. This is all a distraction."

"No, this is about justice being served. Garrett Gates's family deserves closure, even if none of them are around to take comfort in it."

"What happened to them?"

"His mother hung herself in the backyard. His father drank himself to an early grave. Even his little sister didn't escape. She was orphaned, sent overseas, ended up drowning. Every last one of them's gone. Your father doesn't just have Garrett's blood on his hands, he's got the whole damn family's." the Sheriff says, wanting some semblance of Justice, even if the family weren't as, kind.

Outside, the families are enjoying activities such as frisbee and such. Enids family, well her brothers were enjoying the rough housing. (Y/n) sits with Enid, who gets a gift from her mother

"Here. I brought you a gift."

"That's so sweet. You didn't have to get me anything." Enid says smiling and takes the parchment.

"I know, but I thought we got off on the wrong foot this weekend. I just want you to know that all I want is the very best for you." she says and Enid opens it, she begins to look as it's, Brochures. For camps for Lycanthropy issues. (Y/n) obviously couldn't see it, but he felt Enids heart race and her attitude just, shift.

"What are these?"

"Brochures. For summer camp."

"These aren't just ordinary summer camps. These are camps for lycanthropy conversion."

"Oh, no need to be dramatic, Enid. You want to send me to conversion therapy for werewolves? It worked wonders for your cousin Lucille, didn't it? Seven weeks in the Balkan countryside and she was howling at the moon in no time. As it should be. Don't you want to wolf out and finally be normal, honey?" She says, Enid was about to cry, before she stood up and walked away.

"Enid? Enid!" (Y/n) stood up grabbing his cane before following into the Forest with her.

"Enid, Cmon talk to me! Pease!" He says.

"I don't want to." She replies solemnly.

"Enid, I know your mom is being a total control freak but—"

Enid stops and turns around, angry, so angry tears are forming in her eyes.

"What? That she's right? That I'm a disappointment and there's something wrong with me? I already know that (Y/n)! Everyone tells me that there's something wrong! I know I haven't Wolfed out and that makes me a failure and I'll never find a mate and I'll be alone forever!.. I...I.... Am I just a disappointment to you too?" before she can continue, it all became too much for her, and the tears were close to falling. (Y/n) just sighed, listening to her pour her heart out to him. He walks over and hugs her, Enid accepts it.

"Listen... there's nothing wrong with you being a late bloomer, anyone who thinks it's a problem is just dead wrong. You aren't a disappointment to me, to hell with anyone who says you are. But you have to stand up for yourself. Your mom wants the best for you but to ship you off to some camp is just, wrong. But she won't listen until you tell her yourself. Enid, please stand up for yourself." He says. He lets go and she wipes the tears from her eyes.

"I..I don't think I can do it by myself." She says, (Y/n) grabs her hand, and holds it calmly.

"Then I'll be there, I'll be by your side the entire way. It's what Besties do for each other, it's what family does for each other." He says with a smile, she wipes the tears and smiles strongly at him.

"Okay, okay I'll try." Enid says to (Y/n), as this happens Pugsley was sitting at a small lake. Wednesday, still wearing (Y/n)'s hoodie approaches.

"Go away."

"You forgot your fishing gear." She says as she ms carrying a small satchel.

"Stop trying to be nice. It doesn't suit you."

"Father packed your favorite bait." She says, Pugsley reaches into the bag to pull it his bait, which was a live grenade.

"What'll happen to him now?" He asks Wednesday.

"Well, he's confessed, so there won't be a trial. After he's sentenced, he'll be sent to a state penitentiary, where he'll lose his mind being separated from Mother. Did you know they haven't spent a night apart since they tied the knot?" Wednesday said.

"I always thought I'd be the first one in the family behind bars." Pugsley says sadly.

"Lurch and I had a bet going. Come on. Let's see if the fish are biting." Wednesday said, Pugsley took the pin off and lobbed the grenade into the water, it erupts under the water and fish cork rising up.

"That's quite a catch." She says.

"I'm gonna miss him, Wednesday." Pugsley said so sadly.

"It's not over yet. He's innocent."

"Well, if anyone can figure out who really committed the crime... it's you. You have to find out the truth and free Dad."

"Well, until that happens, we both know Mother will be falling apart. Which means we have to be strong. And by "we," I mean you. Now, give me one of those." Wednesday says, Pugsley hands her a grenade and she tosses one, it als explodes in the water.

"Where is Mother anyway?" Wednesday asks her brother.

"She said she wanted to be alone. Somewhere where no one would find her." he replies, and Wednesday knew exactly where to find her. Inside the secret library in Nevermore where she and (Y/n) were captured. Morticia looks around so, vividly, as if the memories of her days in Nevermore were being replayed right before her eyes, before Wednesday spoke her out of her joy.

"Hello, Mother."

"Hello, Wednesday. So you're a Nightshade. That didn't take long."

"Actually, I rejected them."

"Why? Because I was a member?"

"I'll never live up to your legacy here, so why try? I win the Poe Cup, you claimed it four times. I join the fencing team, you captained it. Why would you send me somewhere I could only ever exist in your shadow?"

"It's not a competition, Wednesday."

"Everything is a competition, Mother. But mostly I rejected them because they're a trivial social club. Or as (Y/n) would put it, a "Social Society of Self Servicing Shitheels.".. he likes Alliteration."

"We used to be so much more. Our mission was to protect outcasts from harm and bigotry. In fact, the group was started by an ancestor of your father's from Mexico. One of the first settlers in America." Mortcia says, which Wednesday adds in.

"Goody. I saw her painting at Pilgrim World."

"Oh. How ironic, since she was the one who killed Joseph Crackstone. The Nightshades were her secret, but deadly, answer to his oppression. I know why you've come here, Wednesday. So go on. Ask."

There was no hesitation, no sense of flattery in it, it was blunt, it was honest.

"Father didn't kill Garrett Gates, did he?" Wednesday asks, and Morticia reveals the harrowing truth.

"By the time I made it up the stairs, I found your father fighting for his life. It was terrifying. Garrett, no! I'll never forget the way he looked at me. He was even foaming at the mouth. It was like I was staring into the eyes of a rabid beast. It wasn't your father who picked up the sword, it was me..It was only when I heard the scream that I realized what I'd done. Your father was so... calm and brave. LTish, you need to leave right now. Go to your room and lock the door. You were never here." his words still linger within me...Your father took the blame in order to protect me. I was so grateful when they cleared him of any wrongdoing. But I knew, someday this would come back to haunt us." Morticia says, as a single tear falls down her cheek.

Wednesday considers this, and finds something, off. "You said Garrett was foaming at the mouth. His eyes didn't look human."

I've never seen someone so blinded by rage."

"Maybe it wasn't rage at all. Foaming saliva, dilated pupils, mental confusion. What are those all textbook symptoms of?" Wednesday asks her mother, who began to realize just what she's saying.

"But how can that be?" She asks, and Wednesday smirks "There's only one way to find out."

Wednesday and Morticia decide the best way to go about this, is to dig up the corpse. Inside the local cemetery, Wednesday, having the oddest smirk on her face, was digging up the grave of Garett. Morticia was there, just not helping.

"This reminds me of when you got your first grave-digging kit. You were so happy, you nearly smiled."

"Are you sure you don't want to join?" Wednesday asks, and Morticia tries to play it off.

"Uh... mm... No, that's okay, darling. I don't want to spoil your fun." she says, Wednesday continues digging until she jams her shovel into the casket.

"Moment of truth." she opens the casket and inhales the scent of death, which makes her smile so fondly. She looks upon the corpse of Garett to see hints of blue on his body.

"Hello, Garrett. I was right." She says, their late light decision was cut off by Deputy Sandiago, who catches them.

"Well, well, what do we have here? Guess there's gonna be an Addams family reunion in lockup tonight. You're both under arrest."

Wednesday and Morticia were taken into prison amd put in a cell next to Gomez

"Get comfortable. You can post bail in the morning." A deputy says, but even that couldn't down out the sound of Morticia and Gomez kissing passionately.

"I've seen jackals with more self-control than you two. Neither one of you are strong enough to serve hard time. And thanks to me, you won't have to." Wednesday begins, but her plan was quickly interrupted by an upset party.

"Seriously?" They say, Wednesday turns to (Y/n) who was let in to see her, he stands before her.

"Grave Robbing? Really?" He says, and Wednesday begins.

"What I found—"

"No." He says coldly, "Wednesday I'm all for you saving your family, but this? I don't want to see you in a jail cell. You should have turned off the headlights, made it less obvious, get a lantern. Cars make too much noise. Seriously if you're going to grave rob do it better." He says, and Wednesday was a bit, confused.

"You're not upset i desecrated a grave moreso I did it the wrong way?" She asks.

"Obviously." He says, and Wednesday almost smiled at him, but swttles for a smirk.

"I knew there was something special about you." She thinks, "So, what's your plan?" He asks, He approaches the Cell and Wednesday shows him something. She puts it in his hand and he, confused, looks at it, it was wrapping, but he opens it to a, severed decrepit finger, before (Y/n) could projectile vomit. He looks at her.

"... Wednesday, did you just put a dead man's severed finger in my hand?"

"Silence and listen, It's a souvenir from our outing. I borrowed it from Garrett. He died from nightshade poisoning. The remarkable preservation of soft tissue and blue tint confirms it. Which means Garrett was dying—"

"Before he was stabbed.." (Y/n) says, much to the relief of Morticia and Gomez, but (Y/n) thinks. "But why would Garett have nightshade? And why did he have it?"

"I had a vision when I snapped his finger off"

"Gross—"

"I said silence..The night Garrett died, he had a vial of nightshade poison that broke in his pocket. He wasn't just trying to kill father. He was going to use the nightshade poison to murder the entire school." She explains, "This information will be enough to exonerate my father and mother, and me." Wednesday said. (Y/n), very reluctantly clenched the finger and places it in his pocket.

"And I know just the guy to blackmail."

(Y/n) stands before the Mayor, who's son (Y/n) assaulted and who retaliated by trying to Carrie his dance with Wednesday.

"Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Mr. Mayor."

"Yes, well, veiled threats have that effect."

"Well I suppose it's down to Business," he tosses the wrapper finger at the mayor who catches and opens it. "Garrett Gates wasn't killed by a stab wound. That blue sheen is a sign of nightshade poisoning. But you already knew that, didn't you? Because back when you were sheriff, you were in charge and covered it up, weren't you?" (Y/n) asks. The Mayor scowls.

"Ansel Gates hated outcasts and Nevermore. He claimed the land the school was built on was stolen from his family over 200 years ago. Garrett went there that night to spike the punch and kill all the kids at that dance. Ansel confessed the whole thing to me in a drunken stupor. It was his idea."

"So Why did you instruct Dr. Anwar to falsify the autopsy report?" (Y/n) said. "You knew the truth about how he really died."

"Listen, my job was to keep the peace. If there had been a trial, Jericho's and Nevermore's reputations would have been trashed."

"Trashed? So you care more about the reputation of this town than the truth that there are people out here who hate people like me? You hiding the truth is just as bad as Garett, to me you're just as responsible."

"I resent your implication."

"Oh, you resent it? Well you're going to definitely resent it when I tell all of Nevermore the truth, including your coverup and if I do, Jericho and Nevermore will never be the same.." (Y/n) says, the mayor is literally caught by the neck in this, and he gives in.

"What do you want?" he says.

I want All charges dropped against The Addams family, Gomez, Morticia and Wednesday to be released immediately with a full and unequivocal apology from the sheriff's office. Do we have a deal?" He asks with a smirk, "Or I could go to the press, I know a really good lawyer." (Y/n) smiles, and the mayor is forced to give in.

The family was released and outside, thanks were given, mostly to (Y/n) who just smiles softly. Being hugged by Gomez and Morticia like hes their own. Morticia turns to her daughter.

"I'm sorry you didn't feel you could tell me. I know we've had our difficulties lately. Navigating the treacherous shoals of our mother-daughter relationship. But I'm always here for you, Wednesday." She says, and Wednesday takes a sharp breath.

"Always. Sometimes when I touch someone or something, I get these very violent glimpses from the past or future. I don't know how to control it."

"Our psychic ability resides on the spectrum of who we are." Morticia explains, "Given my disposition, my visions tend to be positive. That makes me a Dove."

"And for someone like me? Who sees the world through a darker lens?"

"You're a Raven. Your visions are more potent, more powerful. But without the proper training, they can lead to madness. If I could help you, I would, Wednesday. But we're not trained by the living. Somebody from our bloodline reaches out from beyond to help us when we're ready."

"Goody has. I've seen her before."

"Be careful, Wednesday. Goody was a witch of great strength, but her vengeance pushed her too far, and even she couldn't save herself." Morticia says, and Wednesday takes those words to her cold heart.

They return to Nevermore, and (Y/n) finds Enid and family, she and (Y/n) face each other and walk over to her parents.

"So, it's decided. Six weeks at Camp Howl. You'll need to pick which activity—" she begins, and he nods to Enid.

"No, I don't. Because I'm not going. Not this summer. Not ever. If I'm meant to wolf out, then I'm going to do it on my own timeline and not yours. I hope that one day, you'll finally accept me for who I am." Enid said, and Her mother was a bit taken aback but smiles, she walks off.

"See?" Told you it would work." He says, they turn around to her father, a tall stout man who just nods approvingly.

"I'm proud of you, Kiddo. And thank you." He says to Enid and (Y/n), before hugging them both, and leaving. Wednesday says her goodbyes to her family as Pugsley hugs her for too long.

"Don't push it."

"Well, at least we can't say Parents' Weekend wasn't a nail-biter." Gomez says hugging Wednesday.

"I knew you didn't have what it takes to be a murderer."

"As much as that stings, gracias, my little death trap." He says, and Morticia steps up.

"As I leafed through the pages of this yearbook, I was reminded of all the wonderful times I had here. But they were just that. Mine. You have your own path to blaze. I don't want to be a stranger in your life, darling. If you need me for anything, anything at all, I'm only a crystal ball away."

"Thank you, Mother." Wednesday replies, and Morticia hands her the book before leaving, Wednesday opens it, flipping though the pages and a shocking realization comes to her. She storms off to the headmaster and on her way spots (Y/n) laughing with Enids brothers, She, without skipping a beat yanks him by the wrist.

"W-Wednesday! What's wrong!"

"Rowan never left! It was Weems!" She says, which confuses (Y/n) but he follows as she storms into her office.

"I knew it. I did witness Rowan getting murdered that night."

"Excuse me?" Weems asks.

"When Rowan appeared the next morning, it was you. When you participated in the talent show, not only did you impersonate Judy Garland, you became her. You're a shape-shifter." Wednesdays said, which stuns (Y/n).

"Principal weems is this true?"

"That's a fascinating theory." Weems says, "I'm curious to find out how Sheriff Galpin feels when I tell him." Wednesday replies, and (Y/n) steps up.

"You lied about Rowan's death, his parents, the world! They deserve to know—" before he can continue, Weems rose from her chair, she was obviously tall being cover six feet tall.

"You won't tell a soul Mister Healy, Miss Addams. And it wouldn't matter much if you did. Rowan's father already knows what happened, and he fully supports my decision not to involve the authorities."

"Why would he agree to that?" Wednesdays asked.

"Because Rowan was not in his right mind. His telekinetic abilities were driving him mad and he attempted to murder you twice. His tragic death allowed us to rectify the situation without casting the school or Rowan in an unflattering light."

"You and Mayor Walker are the same, aren't you?Burying bodies to cover your dirty secrets!" (Y/n) says, actually disgusted by this.

"I did what I needed to do to shield this school from controversy and protect its students from harm."

"Tell that to Eugene. How are you protecting him?"

Wednesday fires back, (Y/n) was all for it, before sending an, off warmth. He turns to the window and approaches, Weems and Wednesday follow to see the harrowing sight. Flames, burning on the Nevermore lawn and the words "Fire Will Rain" etched deeply into the ground, only a symbol of the horrors yet to come.

#netflix #male reader #reader insert #wedensday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday #wedesnday 2022

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harringtonswriting · 2 years

Note

hi! for the affectionate and affirming prompts could you do one with

“no, if you’re upset that’s what matters right now. talk to me.”

and maybe something to do with the readers birthday? mine was today and it hasn’t been a great day so if you could find a way to work it in it would make me feel better but it’s okay if not!

ahh happy birthday!!! <3 babe i'm so sorry to hear that your birthday wasn't that great :(( i hope this helps, even just a little bit!! (also, i hope it's okay that i picked steve for this! if not, please let me know and i can do something with eddie or another character for you!)

...

You’d really wanted today to be a good day. Not even a great day or an amazing day—though that would’ve been nice, given that it’s your birthday and it should be a special day for you—but a good day. That’s all you asked the universe for when you woke up.

But, unfortunately, the universe said no thanks, not today, and had just unleashed all the chaos it could on you. So, at this point, you really just wanted the day to be over; you’d put on your comfiest pyjamas, gotten your favourite late night snack and something to drink before crawling into bed.

You’d been debating on just going to bed now when you hear something scratch at your window. You immediately sit up, looking over at your window half-expecting to end your birthday getting stabbed by some freak in a mask, because apparently that’s just how bad your luck is—

—when you see Steve’s smiling face is right outside your window, and he doesn’t hesitate in opening it to stick his head through.

“Happy birthday! Sorry it’s so late, Keith is a dick and made me stay, even though that place is the cleanest it’s ever been and no one came in after seven,” he greets, swinging his bag through the now-open window before he comes inside. He almost sticks the landing, though one foot gets caught on the window sill and he tumbles through and lands on said bag.

You try to smile at him, because he is absolutely endearing and it’s not his fault that you had a shitty day, but it’s hard to keep the smile on your face as he picks himself up and dusts himself off. He’s still got his Family Video vest on, probably having driven here straight after work just to see you.

“Next time you see them, please tell the kids how cool I am, climbing through your window.” When you don’t respond with any kind of witty remark, or a roll of your eyes, or anything other than a nod and vague noise of agreement, the smile immediately drops from his face. He’s much more perceptive than anyone ever gives him credit for. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, Stevie, it’s nothing.” You try using one of his nicknames, to see if that placates him. It doesn’t. In fact, the crease between his eyebrows becomes deeper and he moves closer to your bed, standing in front of you.

“No, it’s not nothing,” he insists, sitting down next to you and holding his hands out. “What’s going on?”

“Steve, please. It doesn’t matter.” You try dismissing it, pulling your blanket tighter around yourself and turning your head away from him. He seemed so happy when he got here and you don’t want to bring his mood down more than you already have. You feel like you should be happy that he’s here, but right now even Steve isn’t budging your mood.

Steve clicks his tongue and his large, warm, slightly chapped hands cup your cheeks. The pads of his fingers drum softly against your skin, slowly but surely soothing you, even if just a tiny bit. He turns your head to face him and says, “No, if you’re upset that’s what matters right now. Talk to me.”

You wait, you hesitate, and Steve’s warm, kind brown eyes with their crow’s feet at the corners, with wisps of hair falling into them that he can never quite tame, never leave yours. They hold your gaze, letting you know he’s here. He’s listening. He loves you.

And when his thumbs start rubbing against your cheekbones, you can feel the dam burst and the words stumble and tumble out of your mouth as you tell him about your day, about everything and anything that you’ve had bottled up inside you and he listens. He sits and is patient with you, encourages you to breathe and take your time, baby, because he’s got all the time in the world for you.

When you’ve finished, Steve presses a kiss to your forehead, to the apple of each cheek, and to the tip of your nose.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “I’m here, okay? I love you, my birthday baby, and I’m not going anywhere. Wanna cuddle? I’ll even be the big spoon this time.”

That does have you cracking a smile through the tears, and the way Steve’s face lights up makes your heart feel just a bit lighter.

So far as birthdays go, while it may not have started the greatest, ending it with your boyfriend pressing soft kisses all over your face and holding you in his arms was probably as good an ending as you could ever wish for.

(And when you wake up the next morning, it’s to warm sunlight peeking through the curtains and bathing Steve in a honeyed glow; he’s already awake, one hand wrapped around you where you’re resting on his chest, and the other holding up the book you’d abandoned on your nightstand as he reads.

He tells you to get dressed, after pressing soft kisses all over every part of your face he can reach, and surprises you with a breakfast date at the local diner, ordering all your favourites and trying to act surprised when Robin and Eddie bring the kids by, bearing gifts and kind wishes as your hand never leaves Steve’s.)

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things reader insert #steve harrington #stranger things #anon #ily anon

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nicosraf · 7 months

Note

hey mr Nicolás! i just finished angels before men and WOW it'is really like if gomens and tsoa had a baby. i wanna ask how your own expieriences effected your work specificly with your characterization of lucifer? his dreams feel really specific so i was wondering if maybe they/he had irl inspo somehow?

Ahaha thank you so much for reading ! I'm going to try and answer without getting too much into specifics because I value my privacy, but I don't mind being vague.

Weirdly, I think there's a lot of me (and my experiences) in Lucifer in terms of things that happen to him and his deeper emotions, but we're not really alike in terms of, say, personality (so, characterization). He is relatable to me but not in a superficial way - we don't like the same things (except maybe soup) or have the same flaws or react the same or look alike, and he even deals with shame a different way than I do. But, the root of his shame is where mine is too, I think.

My more straight forward experiences are mostly in the structure of ABM itself, the progression of its story, the setting and its angel-culture. (Gossipy, oppressive christians who are really bad at being christians? Definitely latine catholics). It's influenced a lot by my perception of trauma years after-the-fact. Some lines are taken from previous, personal works of mine — "You will live a hundred million years and spend the rest looking back," actually first appeared in a short story I wrote about when I was younger.

And ofc it's inspired by my personal wet sloppy gay fantasies. I said a little while ago that Michael and Lucifer's relationship is about the fantasies associated with typical (and my) first queer/gay love (and also about being young and stupid).

The dreams are inspired by real dreams of mine. I have a lot of weird gay angel dreams. Since May 2021, if I'm remembering correctly. You know, like a very normal person.

#anyway my self insert is Uriel i think #Lucifer is actually a carbon copy of one of my close friends (who may see this)#holiii <3 #mine #ask #also i thought you were calling Lucifer a he/they for a second and i just did not question it

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disco-elysium-via-polls · 1 month

Text

2. "Is Alec Tricity there? I need to speak with Alec Tricity, please."

PAYPHONE - "No, but I got a feeling Al Kickurass is gonna make an appearance if you ever call this number again. Have a good one, asshole!"

Phone hanging up.

Disconnect tone.

Ok, that's enough-

Put 10 cents in and dial a random number: 005-99-77-313.

[Leave.]

Um. Harry?

PAYPHONE - Calling...

Calling...

Still calling...

*Still* calling…

"Stop calling me, man!" Someone picks up. The voice on the other end is slightly hysterical.

"I'll get you your money, alright? I just need 'til tonight. Let me work."

"Uh… who is this?"

"Yes, but a slight change of plans -- I want this delivered to the Whirling-in-Rags in Martinaise."

"We could all be a bit kinder to each other, don't you think? Consider your debt paid, my friend."

"You seem to be in some sort of trouble. Maybe I can help you, I'm a police officer."

PAYPHONE - "Tethys, I uh..." The young man realises something. "Hey, you're not Tethys! Screw you and don't ever call here again, you're fucking with some *serious* people!"

Disconnect tone.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Khm..." A single *khm* lets you know the lieutenant is ready to move now.

Kim is right. We should stop.

Put 10 cents in and dial a random number: 005-11-11-313.

[Leave.]

PAYPHONE - Calling...

"I'm tired…" A man answers, fast this time. His voice is hoarse from cigarettes. You hear typing in the background.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - Sounds like he hasn't talked to anyone in quite a while.

"What are you tired of?"

"I'm tired too."

"Is there anything I can do to help you? I'm with the police."

PAYPHONE - "If I could go just one month without writing. No, two months... I could regenerate my brain. Fucking liberalism..."

The man disappears with a sigh.

You do not hear the customary disconnect tone, just silence in the handset -- the machine is still waiting for you to dial a number.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - Seems like it did not have time to swallow the coin. This sometimes happens.

INTERFACING [Trivial: Success] - Lucky you. The call went too fast for the payphone to register. You can still make a new one without paying.

[Interfacing - Medium 10] Dial a random number -- with your eyes closed.

[Leave.]

+1 White mourning... +1 Smells like betrayal...

We no longer have the thought, but we would also get +1 from Sorry Cop here.

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - You close your eyes and put your index finger on the rotary dial, then pull down on the number, then move one up and repeat the motion, twice...

Strange. This is not how you started before.

Wait -- what did I just do?

Keep dialling...

Stop!

INTERFACING - You dialled 001. This is not the area code of Revachol. It is another destination -- on another isola. Some far-off nation state.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - 005 is Revachol ZoC -- 001 is Graad, on the Graadian isola, where the telephone was invented. The next two digits you dial are the area code for the city of Mirova...

Keep dialling...

INTERFACING - 41 -- 44 -- 47 -- the rotary dial feels cold from the sea air.

Keep dialling...

INTERFACING - 11 -- 17 -- 361 -- your fingers keep moving like a spider, every time the ring rotates back with a little ring of metal, like a bell tolling.

There's more?

INTERFACING - Yes. 451 -- 67 -- 451 -- you are going deeper now, into some unknown place. Far away from this island of matter and its telecommunication networks....

Finish it.

INTERFACING - 451 -- you have dialled god knows how many numbers. The headset has been waiting silently to relay a signal -- surely nothing can come of this, you think. But it does. A connection.

PAYPHONE - An ultra-long-distance call. Your ear fills with a crackle, the wash of a strange ocean full of white noise. A little bird starts ringing in there, not like the local calling tone before. No, a small ring in a cage of distortion, far away, a distant network of phones...

Calling...

Calling in the night....

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - The saddest sound in the world.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] - Both pitiful and terrifying. You feel your pulse rising with each ring...

PAYPHONE - Calling still...

ENDURANCE [Easy: Success] - The handset starts slipping from your sweaty palm... your breathing is heavy.

"Kim..."

[Volition - Impossible 18] Hang it up.

Let it call more.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant is too far away to hear your yelp. The sea wind blows...

2. [Volition - Impossible 18] Hang it up.

VOLITION [Impossible: Failure] - You can't. Some strange force is keeping the headset glued to your hand, your ear listening to the ring in the speaker...

PAYPHONE - Calling...

Calling...

Calling still...

Then the ocean breaks. Out of the depths, a woman's voice emerges. Small. The dearest thing you've ever heard.

PAYPHONE - "Hello." She sounds sleepy.

"Hello."

"I want to die."

"Who is this?"

"I'm a revolutionary servant of humanity. I will free mankind and abolish the classes. I will raise the dead." (Proceed.)

"Your voice is so beautiful."

"Good bye."

PAYPHONE - "Mhm," she hums, her voice warm from sleep.

"Who is this?"

3. "Who is this?"

PAYPHONE - "Dora." She's still confused. "Who is this? The connection is bad..."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Dora. The name feels like a *gift*. A gift that was meant for you -- to make it possible to live.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - In the distorted distance you hear someone turning next to her. Bedsprings rattle.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - Don't react. Whatever you do, don't react to that last thing.

"Is someone *there*?"

Don't react.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) - It doesn't matter if you react or not. You still think you hear a *man's* voice in the background. It's covered in pain and white noise...

2. "I want to die."

PAYPHONE - "What?" It takes a second for her to realize what you said.

"I don't know why I said that."

"Your voice makes me want to turn into dust."

"I want to live -- with you..."

PAYPHONE - "Oh no... is that you?" Her voice sounds like she's waking up now. Still plaintive, tired...

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - This is too much... You need to recede...

"A creature is a creature. I wish I was the wind."

"No."

PAYPHONE - "Oh no, not this... what time is it?"

5. "Your voice is so beautiful."

PAYPHONE - "No-no..." She's waking up now. "It's *you*, isn't it? It's you..."

6. "Good bye."

PAYPHONE - A sigh. She heard you, but she does not hang up. And neither do you. You can't.

4. "I'm a revolutionary servant of humanity. I will free mankind and abolish the classes. I will raise the dead." (Proceed.)

PAYPHONE - "You're not a revolutionary, Harry... You're drunk."

-1 Morale

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - You only have two, maybe three things left to say before the change runs out.

"Harry? How do you know my name?"

"Harry? Who's Harry -- are you sleeping with him? I'm also Harry!"

"I'm not drunk."

"Okay I'm drunk, what does it matter? I'm still *me*!"

"I'm not drunk -- I'm *high*."

"I'm not drunk or high, I'm just... hurt... why does it hurt to talk to you?"

PAYPHONE - "Because it's me... Look, I don't understand what you're saying or why you're calling me. You seem drunk."

4. "I'm not drunk or high, I'm just... hurt... why does it hurt to talk to you?"

PAYPHONE - "Oh god..." There's silence, it's heavy as tin. The white noise howls.

"Hey."

"Ooo... are you there?"

Say nothing.

PAYPHONE - "Do you know what time it is? It's so late here..." Sounds like she's looking for a clock on the night stand.

"It's four o'clock, Harry! I need to wake up in two hours."

It's four o'clock there regardless of what time you call. Blame it on entroponetics, I guess.

"Do you want to party?"

"I want to talk about me. Who am I? You sound like you know me."

"You're in Mirova, right?"

"Where are you going in two hours?"

"I am the law. I'm a detective. I'm doing a case. There's a hanged man."

"Is someone there with you?"

(Hang up.)

PAYPHONE - "No, I want to go to sleep..."

2. "I want to talk about me. Who am I? You sound like you know me."

PAYPHONE - "What do you want to talk about? That we haven't talked about already..."

ENDURANCE [Legendary: Failure] - This is bad, you feel your right hand on the handset cramping up with pain...

-1 Health

3. "You're in Mirova, right?"

PAYPHONE - "Yes, I'm in Mirova. Sleeping."

4. "Where are you going in two hours?"

PAYPHONE - "To work."

"Where?"

Say nothing.

PAYPHONE - "The Academy. Where I work."

"The Academy? That sounds better than my job. I'm happy."

"My job is sad and terrible. It has dead bodies in it."

"Pfft, Academy... my job is *real*."

PAYPHONE - No response, only a sigh. The connection crackles, like burning paper.

-1 Morale

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - What are you doing to yourself right now?

I'm making a funny prank call.

Catastrophic damage.

I don't know... I don't understand what's happening.

VOLITION - You need to stop. Harry. You're killing yourself.

*Can* we?

6. "My heart hurts. I'm gonna have a heart attack."

PAYPHONE - "Oh no... please stop. Please let's just hang up..."

7. "Is someone there with you?"

PAYPHONE - "Yes."

5. "I am the law. I'm a detective. I'm doing a case. There's a hanged man."

PAYPHONE - She does not answer anymore.

"I'm gonna solve it."

"It doesn't matter. This case doesn't matter."

"None of it matters -- not anymore."

"Can you help me solve it? I need to solve it. They won't take me back if I don't."

PAYPHONE - "Harry..."

Disconnect tone -- the machine ran out of money.

Put 10 cents in and dial the long phone number again.

[Leave.]

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #harrier du bois #dora ingerlund

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Note

Hey queen! My friend @queen-of-the-night-lights is having a really hard time at her work and with her life in general, so I was wondering if you could please write something about the bad batch being with a tall and plus size reader? She get really self conscious about these traits she has, but I can’t write well to save my life and you are one of her favorite blogs. It can be whatever style you like, you are totally creative and the writer so I leave this to you if you have time for it. 💜

Aloha! So sorry, your friend is having such a hard time 😔 I have no idea If I can do this properly, but I'll give it my best 😊 Sorry for the wait!

The Bad Batch x Tall Plus Size ReaderHCs - Love Yourself

Warnings: Mention Of Negative Self-Perception/Hurt/Comfort/Fluff/ Suggestive As Well As Strong Language (Crosshair)

_________________

Hunter

He has a way of making you feel loved and beautiful. Not only with words, but also with the way he looks at you and touches you. Hunter's warm smile, the way he admires and touches your curves, make you feel like a queen.

He is fascinated by you, attracted to you, just as you are. He would never want to change you, but supports you in any endeavor if you yourself should ever have the desire. His affection goes deeper, he perceives you very differently than you perceive yourself, and he will do everything so that you can see yourself as he sees you, gorgeous and desirable.

To the questions, "Why are you with me?" he answers, "Because you are wonderful, in so many ways that I can hardly put into words. Everything about you is endearing and magnetic".

Of course, even on the worst days when you feel lower than low, he manages to make you smile.

"There it is, that wonderful smile that I love so much, I don't think you should wear more than that tonight, just that smile."

Echo

"Honey, you are wonderful just the way you are"

The moments when you doubt yourself fill him with worry. Echo wants nothing more than for you to feel comfortable and, above all, loved in this relationship. Tender touches, loving, uplifting words, come to his lips with ease, because they are true. Echo is enraptured by you.

On your worst days, he cuddles with you and covers you with tender kisses. "My love, it is hardly possible to put into words how wonderful you are". He is so sweet it almost hurts. It doesn't matter how tall or wide you are, he is addicted to you, every inch of your body. Like an addict, he hangs on your every smile.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Mesh'la."

"How do you see me?"

Echo smiles dreamily, "As the love of my life. A sweet, adorable treasure, worth protecting, loving and admiring"

Wrecker

He gives you a warm hug.

"My sweet, Mesh'la, do not doubt yourself".

His smile is so warm and vibrant, it gets under your skin. He stands with you in front of the mirror, his big hands wandering along your body, every curve, every inch.

"Look at you, what's not to love?"

Wrecker really doesn't quite understand, he can't imagine how anyone could not be attracted to you.

He looks at you across the mirror so dreamily that your heart beats faster and faster. Wrecker is so direct, so honest and real, everything he says and does, he means exactly that.

"Look at those curves! Wonderful! I can't get enough of them"

He caresses your cheek and croons, "Smile for me beautiful, I want to see you happy my darling".

Tech

He's pretty confident. Not necessarily about his appearance, he doesn't think about that much, his self-confidence is more about his mind and what he's capable of, so he can't immediately grasp what's going on inside you when he first sees you standing in front of the mirror, plagued by self-doubt.

However, Tech wants to understand you, so he asks questions, responds to you. He finally stands next to you, a small smile appears on his lips as your eyes meet in the mirror.

"I like seeing you next to me," he says, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"Oh yeah?"

Tech nods with a smirk, "It makes me proud. I have such a wonderful, being by my side, something I could hardly have dreamed of not so long ago"

"You're sweet," you say with a cautious smile.

"Not nearly as cute as you are," he says with a smirk, "But I must say, together, as a couple, we look extraordinary"

Tech presses a button on his goggles, takes a holo-picture of that moment in front of the mirror and says, "Something like that should be captured for eternity, don't you think?"

He kisses your cheek and says elatedly, "I brought some holomovies, shall we get cozy and watch them?"

Crosshair

Actually, he's more attracted to a certain amount of self-confidence, which is probably why the beginnings of your relationship are a bit bumpy. He likes you, but he struggles with your self-doubt.

However, Crosshair is more adaptable and sensitive than he seems. He has his own very physical way of showing you how great you are. Crosshair desires you, and he shows it to you very directly. His touches are demanding and passionate, but he also has a tender side. He doesn't show it too often, but always right when you need it the most.

"Hey Kitten, what did we do last night?"

Heat creeps into your cheeks, you avoid his gaze in the mirror as he faces you, but he grabs your chin and gently but firmly forces you to look at him over the mirror.

"Ignoring my question would be rude," he says quietly.

"We made love"

He nods and says, "Yeah, fucked your brains out".

Your cheeks get even hotter, and you blink, your eyes jumping from one spot to another.

"Look at me, Mesh'la" he says sternly yet gently.

As you obey him, he says, "Why do you think we did that?"

"You were horny?"

He rolls his eyes, but then smirks, "Well, I guess that's part of it. But no, that's not the main reason. I desire you, I want you, you are mine."

He leans his cheek against your head and says, "I will always desire you, always want you and always want you to be with me."

As you look at him over the mirror, moved by his words and happy, with a beating heart, he says, "Now stop moping, hold that pretty head up high and get into that wonderful new dress I bought you, I want to take you out for dinner"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@taskfork-archive

@cpnt616

@starwarsnerd111

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dc-and-arfrona · 10 months

Text

No Doubt

----

Tim Drake x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 1100+

Masterlist

Summary: You’re the only one he wants

---You sat in the cozy corner of the Batcave, engrossed in a book, occasionally stealing glances at Tim Drake as he tinkered with his latest gadget. Tim, the brilliant and enigmatic Red Robin, possessed a mind that seemed to operate on a different wavelength. It was both fascinating and intimidating, leaving you with a lingering sense of insecurity. The thought of him finding someone more intellectually compatible haunted your thoughts.

Tim caught a glimpse of your unease and paused his work, walking over to you. His gaze, gentle yet perceptive, met yours. "Hey there, (Y/N). What's on your mind? You seem lost in thought."

You sighed, setting the book aside, trying to find the words to express your feelings. "Tim, I can't help but feel insecure sometimes. You're incredibly intelligent, and I worry that I can't measure up. What if one day, you find someone who understands you on a level I never could?"

Tim's expression softened, his eyes filled with reassurance. He took a seat beside you, his voice calm and soothing. "I understand why you might feel that way, but let me assure you, (Y/N). Intelligence isn't the only measure of compatibility or love. Our connection is deeper than just intellect. It's about understanding, support, and the unique bond we share."

His words resonated with you, the weight of your insecurities momentarily lifted. But a part of you clung to doubt. "But what if you need someone who can keep up with your intellect? Someone who can challenge you intellectually without feeling inadequate?"

Tim reached out, his hand finding yours, offering a comforting touch. "You underestimate yourself, (Y/N). You possess qualities that go beyond intellect. Your empathy, your compassion, and your ability to see the world in a way I can't always grasp. Those are the qualities that draw me to you, that make our connection special."

As you listened to his heartfelt words, a flicker of hope ignited within you. Perhaps your doubts were unfounded, and you were more than enough for Tim. He continued, his voice filled with conviction. "I don't need someone who thinks like me; I need someone who complements me, someone who challenges me to grow and reminds me of the beauty in the world beyond my analytical mind."

His unwavering belief in your worth awakened a newfound confidence within you. "Tim," you spoke, your voice steady, "I hear you, and I choose to trust in us. No more doubts, no more comparisons. From now on, I'll embrace our unique connection and cherish the love we share."

A smile of genuine appreciation curved Tim's lips as he pulled you into a tender embrace. "That's all I could ever ask for," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

In that moment, you realized that your insecurities had clouded your perspective, overshadowing the strength of your bond with Tim. Together, you would dispel the veil of doubt that lingered, forging a love that defied any intellectual expectations.

As you embraced, the Batcave seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a future where doubts were nothing more than fleeting whispers. In the arms of Tim Drake, you found solace, knowing that your love was more profound than any intellectual disparity.

And so, you embarked on a journey of trust and unwavering support, eager to explore the depths of your connection and embrace the love that bloomed in the heart of Tim Drake, a love that transcended the boundaries of intellect and reaffirmed the beauty of your unique bond.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, reveling in the newfound understanding and assurance. Tim returned to his workbench, resuming his tinkering, while you picked up your book once again, this time finding it easier to focus. The Batcave was filled with a sense of peace and tranquility, as if the weight of your insecurities had lifted, allowing you to fully appreciate the moment.

Occasionally, Tim would steal glances in your direction, a small smile playing on his lips. You met his gaze, returning the smile with one of your own. It was in these small gestures that you found reassurance and a renewed sense of confidence in your connection with him.

As the minutes ticked by, Tim finally put down his tools and walked over to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, (Y/N), I may be intellectually inclined, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate a good book. What are you reading?"

You chuckled, sharing the title and a brief summary of the story. Tim listened attentively, genuinely interested in your thoughts and opinions. It was a reminder that your worth wasn't solely determined by your intellectual prowess but also by your unique perspectives and passions.

The conversation flowed effortlessly between the two of you, and as the evening wore on, you found yourself discussing not only books but also a wide range of topics, from philosophy to art to current events. It became evident that while Tim possessed a brilliant mind, he valued your insights and viewpoints just as much.

In those moments, the lingering doubts melted away, replaced by a newfound sense of security. You realized that your connection with Tim was built on a foundation of mutual respect, admiration, and the ability to grow together, intellectually and emotionally.

The night grew late, and with a gentle yawn, you closed your book, signaling the end of your reading session. Tim stood up and extended his hand toward you, a playful glimmer in his eyes. "Care for a dance, (Y/N)?"

You grinned, accepting his offer, and the two of you swayed to an imaginary melody in the dimly lit Batcave. As you moved in synchrony, a sense of joy and contentment filled the air, erasing any lingering doubts or fears.

In that moment, you realized that while intellectual compatibility was important, it was not the sole determinant of a fulfilling and loving relationship. Your connection with Tim went beyond the confines of the mind; it encompassed shared values, emotional support, and the unbreakable bond that had blossomed between you.

As you twirled in each other's arms, you marveled at the beauty of your unique love story, one that defied expectations and flourished in the face of insecurities. With Tim by your side, you knew that you had found not only a partner but also a kindred spirit, someone who cherished you for who you were and encouraged you to embrace your own brilliance.

And so, as the night grew quieter and the Batcave embraced you both with its protective embrace, you held onto the knowledge that your love with Tim was a rare and precious gem—one that continued to shine brightly, even in the darkest of times

#Tim drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #red robin x reader #red robin #tim drake #red robin x y/n #dc #dc universe #dc imagines #red robin imagines #tim drake imagines #tim drake imagine #robin x reader #robin x y/n #robin x you #tim drake x you #red robin x you

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

Text

Stubborn

Prompts: hey I really like your writing, and I have a prompt if you're looking for one. I adore the scene in I'm Okay (Sure) where Janus forces Logan to admit he's lying, and I would love to see more of Janus getting through to the more stubborn sides in a similar way. I feel like only Janus would be perceptive enough/willing to pick one of them apart like that and I like it a lot! so maybe one of the sides is having a Bad Time and refuses to admit it/hides it, and everyone can kind of tell that something is going on but they don't know what to do because nothing they try is working, and maybe nothing is wrong in the first place? so Janus gets them to reveal exactly what's up and how bad it's gotten and then the side in question asks for help. I don't mind who it is, but this probably would work best for a more stubborn character. I hope you have a great day :D - anon

it's been raining all day here and I am very sleepy, so I come with a simple request

could we have some sleepy dlampr cuddles? I don't have anything too specific, I just want them all being soft and fluffy and caring for each other and maybe getting some cookies ... now I want cookies anyway, that's it buh-byee - anon

Hello *hello* I have an thought(tm). I would love to see your take on a drlamp fic where the others are just smitten over their emo. Just head over heels. Janus and Patton bonds over how much Virgil smiling and cooing over kittens gave them heart palpitations. Logan getting starry eyed when Virgil makes tea just how he likes it and thinks he's the luckiest man on earth. Roman and Remus compete over who gets to slow dance with Virgil or who gets to woo him shsksjs. Just— a fic where all of them love Their Emo, yanno? - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: spirals, anxiety attacks, panic attacks

Pairings: DLAMPR

Word Count: 4813

This is fine. This is fine. Everything is so fine that it’s hard to imagine it could be more fine. No, seriously, everything is so fine and so good right now in the way that it’s happening. This is great. It’s hard to imagine life could be better than this. This is fine. It’s fine. It’s so totally fine.

…okay, maybe it’s not fine.

Or, Virgil's having a bad day. The others try and make it better. Now, if only Virgil will let them.

…okay, maybe it’s not fine.

Virgil grits his teeth and shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie, making the seams whine in protest as he strains against the fabric. Should he be more careful with it? Maybe, but it’s not like he can’t just…fix it if he breaks it. He’s done that before, right? It’ll be okay. It’s not like he’s got some incredibly priceless thing on that someone gifted him or that he spent an exorbitant amount of money on so it’ll feel important.

It’s just a hoodie.

Muttering to himself isn’t helping, so he takes one of the strings and chews on it. That’s better. Something to chew on that isn’t his lip and probably won’t fuck up his teeth as badly as gum. Which is rude. Gum shouldn’t fuck up your teeth. It’s designed to be chewed. Why design something to be chewed if it’s just going to fuck up your teeth?

Why make something if all it’s going to do is fuck up?

“Oh my god, I fucking hate this.”

Okay, it’s not like he’s not used to Anxiety spirals. He is Anxiety, that’s his fucking job, to get worried about things and be worried about things and sometimes it’s right and he’s correct and Thomas is better off not doing something—or doing something—and it’s okay for like, two seconds before he starts worrying about the next thing.

But this one…even he knows that this one is really fucking stupid.

So here’s the thing: Thomas has been really on this self-love kick recently. And while yeah, that’s great for him and, uh, honestly probably a lot healthier than a lot of the shit he’s been doing before that, it has the side effect of, um…

Look, let’s just say everyone’s been a great deal sappier recently, okay?

And while that’s fine when it means he gets to snicker in the corner as Patton melts into a great big fuzzball or Janus hisses ‘cause he’s too flustered, it’s not great when it feeds into these goddamn Anxiety spirals that make him want to do bad things.

Because he said it earlier: self-love kick. Thomas didn’t magically wake up and decide to love himself, he’s got to work for it. He has to get up and make that choice every goddamn day and that’s fucking hard. It’s hard to put in that much effort to do something new, especially when it’s something really new—and that’s kinda sad on it’t own, but we’re not going to talk about that right now—and at some point, something is going to give.

…doesn’t help that the Anxiety is really fucking convinced that he’s the thing that’s going to give.

Because his job is to doubt! To whisper all the bad things that could happen in Thomas’s ear and guess what? He’s gotten pretty fucking good at it over the years and that’s not good for Thomas.

Yeah, yeah, there was that whole thing about accepting Anxiety and realizing that yeah, there are healthy ways to have stress and all that jazz, but this? This kind of spiraling?

Unhealthy.

Virgil bites down so hard he breaks the aglet on the end of the lace.

Is…maybe he’s just unhealthy.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe while all the others are being all sappy with each other, he should just stay on the couch and watch. Watch them getting all touchy-feely with each other—which is fine, he’s not big on the whole sap-fest anyway—and just stay away from it before he ruins it.

He won’t, like, duck out or anything, they all know how badly that went anyway, but he’ll just…not.

He’s probably not included in the whole…love every part of yourself thing anyway.

“Holy fucking shit, Janus, don’t fucking do that.”

Janus chuckles as Virgil recovers from the jumpscare of his goddamn existence, hand still clutching the hoodie material over his chest and scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What in the fuck do you want?”

“I’ve not heard you swear so much in ages, Virgil.”

“Yeah, well, whose goddamn fault is that?”

“I hardly think Patton is one for cultivating the use of swear words.” He tilts his head. “Unless you intend to…balance out the Mindscape now that you and Remus no longer share a hallway?”

“I don’t—wait, what the fuck does that have to do with—you know what, never mind. Why don’t you just explain why you came in without knocking and scared the shit out of me?”

“I was summoned.”

That draws Virgil up short. “What? No, you weren’t.”

Janus hisses quietly.

“Wait, that’s not a lie, I didn’t summon you—“

Another hiss.

“—will you knock that off? I did not decide to summon you!”

“Now that is true,” Janus says, raising a hand to tug the lace from Virgil’s mouth, “I will accept that you did not knowingly summon me.”

Virgil pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I ask very politely, will you turn off the cryptic and condescending bastard part of you until this conversation is over?”

“Perhaps.”

“That’s a ‘no.’”

“It’s a ‘perhaps.’” Janus’s mouth curves up in a smirk. “Depends on how nicely you ask.”

“Janus Sanders, O Powerful Lord of Lies, will you please resist the temptation to be patronizing and condescending for the remainder of this conversation?”

“Ooh, he is capable of being polite.” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “But you didn’t say ‘please.’”

“Really?”

“Getting less inclined to agree…”

“Fine, please?”

“Aw, there it is.” Janus chuckles when Virgil’s glare turns on him. “Oh, alright. You should try it sometime, though, it really is quite fun.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure. I’ll keep that in mind.” He crosses his arms. “Now, can you tell me why you’re here?”

“I told you. You summoned me.”

“And seeing how I have no idea why you’re here, can you tell me what summoned you?”

“You were lying.”

Virgil throws his hands up. “Did or did you not just agree to not be a cryptic bastard?”

“The exact words of your question were, and I quote: ‘will you please resist the temptation to be patronizing and condescending,’” Janus says in a way that somehow sounds both patronizing and condescending, “nothing in there about cryptic.”

Anger bubbles up into the back of his throat and he growls. “Get out.”

“No can do, I’m afraid.”

“Why the fuck not? Did you forget how to use doors in all your efforts to be an absolute bastard?”

“I’d just be summoned right back,” he points out as if he’s bored, examining the fingers of his glove, “what would be the point?”

“Just be—you haven’t even fucking told me why you got summoned in the first place, don’t you think that would be a little more helpful than whatever the fuck—“ he gestures to Janus’s whole…thing— “this is?”

“Because god forbid I ever be anything other than helpful.”

“What in the fuck does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, Virgil,” he says in that stupid lilting voice that makes Virgil want to throw a chair at his face, “whatever could that mean?”

“I don’t have time to play your stupid games, Janus.”

“Oh, but you have time to walk around in a little circle in your room?”

“You know what? Yeah. Yeah, I fucking do, okay? I got time to do that ‘cause it’s my job to freak out and I was freaking out just fine before you got here.”

“My, my,” Janus says, covering his mouth with one hand, “whatever could you have been freaking out over? It isn’t like this is the best mental health Thomas has had in a while or anything, nor the fact that oh, apparently this is the first time everyone’s gotten along in, what, over a decade?”

“Yeah, and how fucking long do you think that’s gonna last, huh?” Virgil steps forward, shoving his face into Janus’s space. “You think that we’re all just gonna be one big happy family from now until Thomas fucking dies? You think it’s just gonna work? Because it isn’t!”

Janus doesn’t say anything.

“It isn’t just going to work. Sooner or later something is going to happen and someone is going to disagree with someone else and we’re all gonna be right back to hating each other and fighting. That’s how it goes, that’s how it always goes.” He tangles a hand in his hair. “And then the twins are gonna separate again and it’ll be like we can’t even spend time with one without the other thinking that we’re taking their side—then Logan’s gonna get all aloof and detached again ‘cause shit’s too hard for him—and you’re gonna pull a great fucking disappearing act again and it’s gonna be my fault.”

“Your fault?”

Virgil throws his head back as a humorless laugh escapes. “Who do you think is gonna be the bearer of bad news when shit hits the fan again? Me! I’m the one who says when shit’s wrong, I’m the one who brings attention to all the fucking problems we have.”

He looks down at his hands. They’re shaking.

The anger rushes out of him, almost staggering him as he’s overcome with something that just hurts.

“I’m gonna fuck this up for everyone,” he mumbles, still looking at his hands, “I…that’s what I do.”

The room is quiet. A clock ticks. Somewhere down the corridor there are footfalls on the stairs.

A blob of yellow interrupts Virgil’s view of his hands. Something soft takes them and guides them up, looping them around Janus’s neck as his hand raises his head, staring at a face that isn’t patronizing or condescending in the least.

“Hi, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, all trace of antagonist gone from his voice as Virgil closes his eyes and buries his face in his chest. “I really fucking hate when you do that.”

“I know, sweetie, I know.” And he does sound genuinely remorseful, which makes it worse. “But it’s the only way I get can you out of there sometimes.”

Which is true, but he doesn’t have to say it.

Another hand—he’s a fucking snake, why does he get six arms—lifts his chin up. His wobbly chin because apparently, he’s crying now. Janus lets out a soft noise and kisses his cheek, stroking a hand through his hair as he pulls him close for a cuddle.

“I’m sorry for riling you up so much,” comes the gentle apology as he’s tucked almost inside the cape, “but you were hurting yourself, sweetie.”

“I know.” He sniffles. “But ’s my job.”

A soft hiss in his ear. “Don’t you ever believe that hurting yourself is necessary for you to be wanted or to be useful.”

“But—“

“No buts.” Janus pulls back to take his chin and stare at him. “You are not worth more in pain. Do you understand?”

It’s phrased like a question, it’s not one. Virgil nods and Janus nods back, tucking his head over his shoulder. He closes his eyes and just gives in, sagging into Janus, knowing he can take his weight, letting tears fall onto black fabric as gloves run up and down his back.

“I’ve got you, sweetie,” he soothes, pressing another kiss to his shoulder, “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just hold onto me.”

It is nice, he begrudgingly admits, to spiral—or come out of a spiral—while he’s being hugged. Every time he almost slips back under—or does slip back under—he can just tighten his grip and Janus responds immediately. He’ll squeeze him back, or he’ll hum and his chest will vibrate, or he’ll kiss the part of Virgil’s head he can reach and murmur something soothing.

Of course, the downside of this being really nice is that oh my god he does not want to leave.

But eventually, his body makes it known that uh, hey, they actually do have other needs that have to be attended to and he slumps, snuffling awkwardly into Janus’s shoulder.

“You get enough of it out?” Janus just catches him easily, because of course he does. “That was a lot, sweetie.”

“…mhm.”

“How long have you been feeling like this?”

“Since the start.”

“Oh, sweetie, why didn’t you tell any of us?”

The silence is telling and Janus sighs—a bit too fond to be just disappointed, and gives him an extra squeeze.

“Well, I think I have a solution to this.”

“Mm?”

Janus pulls back a little, cupping Virgil’s cheeks and kissing his forehead. “Go wash your face, sweetie, then come back.”

“…you won’t leave?”

“Well, that’s quite the change in tune. No, no—come back, sweetie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, shh, shh,” he says when Virgil almost flinches back, “I’m sorry, that was horrible timing, I didn’t mean it. Of course I’ll stay.”

“Don’t do that, J.”

“I know, I know, sweetie, I’m sorry.” Another kiss, an apology. “Leave the door open, I’ll stay in view the whole time.”

Reluctantly, Virgil pulls away from the warm embrace to go to the bathroom, shoving up his sleeves and turning on the cold water. Thank god he didn’t put on too much makeup this morning, it’s probably all rubbed off anyway—he needs to go bug Princey about proper setting stuff. He splashes his face a few times until it just looks like he’s been outside in the cold for a hot second—heh—and not crying his eyes out for…half an hour.

God, it was half an hour?

“Sweetie?”

“’M coming.”

Janus holds out a hand as he walks back, letting him decide how much contact he’s comfortable with. Virgil takes it and just keeps walking, planting his face in the crook of Janus’s neck.

“Well,” he chuckles, “I suppose that answers my question about how comfortable you are with being touched, hmm?”

Virgil just hums, squeezing Janus’s hand lightly.

“What about the others,” Janus asks gently, “can we go see them?”

“…what if they’re mad?”

“Mad? Why would they be mad?”

“Because I’m fucking everything up.”

“You’re not fucking anything up, sweetie.” When Virgil still doesn’t sound convinced, Janus wraps an arm gently around his waist. “Can I prove you wrong?”

“Sure.”

“Hang on,” comes the warning before they’re sinking out.

They emerge in the living room—on the couch, thank you Janus—and Virgil quickly curls up tighter. Yeah, he’ll take the knock to his dignity if it means the others won’t spot his slightly-less-obvious-but-still-very-obvious tear-stained face.

“Oh, Janus, you’re back! How is he, is he…” Patton’s voice trails off and then starts up again in that super-soft concerned one and Virgil is doomed. “Baby?”

Oh, god. Oh, god, not the Patton pet names. He’s gonna die.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Soft hands on the back of his head, carding through his hair and encouraging him to look up at a concerned face. “Are you okay? What’s happening, are you…have you been crying?”

A stupid question, as it turns out, because he starts crying again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to do that.” Patton reaches out. “Can I hold you?”

Screw it.

“Thank you, sweetheart, c’mere.” Patton scoops him up out of his little curled ball and into another cuddle—and did he just finish pulling something out of the oven? He’s so warm. “Hey, shh-shh-shh. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

Okay, it’s not so much crying as it is tears rolling down his face, which is preferable. He can handle that. “…hi, Pop Star.”

“Hi, baby.” Patton’s fingers curl in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Can I ask Janus what’s going on?”

“Sure.”

“Spiral,” Janus explains softly, “anxiety over how long this getting-along period is going to last. Also…”

And Janus’s hand is rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades, excellent.

“…he thinks when it all falls apart again, it’s going to be his fault.”

The noise of shock and sympathy Patton makes fucking hurts. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry you got caught in that. I can’t imagine how awful that must’ve been.”

“Sucked, yeah.”

“Did Janus tell you it’s not true? That you won’t be at fault if we all have a disagreement again?”

“Told me, yeah.”

“But I bet you don’t believe it yet, huh?” Virgil shakes his head and Patton hums. “Well, there’s a way we can fix that.”

“How?”

“Well, we gotta show you how much we care about you!”

“…how is that gonna help?”

“Well, if you believe we’re all capable of thinking the worst of you where we all just go right back to arguing when you say something’s wrong, then we gotta disprove that!”

Virgil blinks. That’s…surprisingly logical for Patton.

“Yeah? You with me?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s my Virgil.” Patton cups his head and kisses his cheek. “Can I—look, I know you hate sappy things, but it’s about to get really sappy, okay? We’re like—tree levels of sap.”

Despite himself, Virgil feels his mouth turning up. “Okay.”

“Do you know what the first thing Janus and I bonded over was?”

“Oh, wait, hey,” Janus says, “that’s embarrassing.”

“We’re about to embarrass him, Janus, it’s only fair.”

“Oh, alright then.”

“Uh…I’m afraid to ask more here,” Virgil says, glancing between the two of them.

“It is a little embarrassing,” Patton admits, “but…Virgil, do you know what you look like when you’re listening to music you really enjoy?”

“…no?”

“You’re adorable,” Patton says plainly, “like…really, really adorable.”

Ah.

Well.

Hm.

“You get this soft little smile,” Janus says, “and you’ll bob your head or tap your hands and you just look so happy.”

“Like you’re happy with yourself,” Patton agrees, “and if you spot one of us then you smile at us and—oh my goodness, Virgil, it’s lovely.”

“You, uh, you really weren’t joking about the whole embarrassing me thing,” Virgil mumbles, “you—wait, you bonded over that?”

“Mhm.” Patton ruffles his hair. “We were trying to think of things that we could do to help Thomas feel a bit better after everything and it went to things that make us happy, and well…”

“M-me?”

“Yeah, sweetie,” Janus says, smiling softly at him, “you make us happy.”

And before he can even begin to process that, Logan comes down the stairs.

“Ah, good. You did find him.”

“Wait, they what?”

“I was looking for you,” Logan says, “I wanted to talk with you about…”

And now it’s Logan’s turn to trail off as he gets closer and notices how damp Virgil’s cheeks are, and Virgil is once again taken aback by how quickly Logan goes fucking soft, setting down his notebook on the coffee table and leaning closer.

He barely notices Patton getting up and going back to the kitchen as Logan takes his place, brows drawn in concern.

“Are you alright?”

No, because now Logan is being all soft and sweet and worried and this is not fair. “Mhm. ‘M fine.”

Logan doesn’t even dignify that with a look to Janus—who just squeezes his side lightly—and reaches out to—to—

Well, okay, he could’ve just asked if he wanted Virgil to cry again, he didn’t have to reach out and gently tuck his hair back from his face and look at him like that.

“What’s the matter, little one—“ or do that— “what’s troubling you?”

“Spiral,” Virgil blurts out, “fighting. Bad things. My fault.”

“You got into a spiral due to the fear of being the cause of an inevitable falling out?”

How does he do that?

“Have the others helped assuage your fears?” Logan drops his hand—thank god, because Virgil can not think while he’s doing that. He nods. “That’s good. Have we found things that help?”

“He doesn’t know how much we care about him,” says Janus, the traitor, “those help.”

“Ah.”

And see, Virgil expects something along the lines of what he’s said in the past. Problem-solving, solutions, helping them stay balanced, that sort of thing. He is not expecting Logan, of all Sides, to get domestic.

“Did you know you’re the only Side who knows how to make tea the way I like it?”

“I’m—wait what?”

Logan nods, smiling. “You’re the only one, Virgil. And—“ he leans closer, voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper— “don’t tell Patton I said this, but it tastes better when you make it, too.”

“It—that doesn’t make sense,” Virgil protests weakly, “it’s just tea.”

“Mhm.” And no, it turns out, he can’t deal with Logan speaking that softly to him like that. “But it’s true.”

“Janus?” Patton calls from somewhere behind him. “Can you come and help?”

“Here,” Logan says, because apparently he’s not done with surprises and picks Virgil up like he weighs nothing, “I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

Virgil is spluttering still, thank you, very much, because what in the fuck is happening, as Logan sits back on the couch while holding him in his lap. “Uh?”

“Hello.”

“Hi.” He slowly relaxes when he realizes Logan’s just holding him. “Um…what’s—what’s going on?”

“Are you asking for a reality check of what’s currently happening in this moment, or for what I plan to do now that I’m holding you like this?”

“…the second one?”

“I am attempting to confirm that I am fond of you,” Logan says, still speaking in their gentle voice, “and I want to do that by offering you the physical comfort that you enjoy and telling you the ways I appreciate you.”

“Oh.”

“Is it working?”

“Mhm.”

Logan chuckles as he shrinks a little bit, curling into his neck. “Is this the good type of overwhelmed?’

“Mhm.”

“Would you like me to tell you more things I am fond of about you, or do you just want to cuddle?” Virgil reaches up and throws his arms around Logan’s neck, burying his face between his head and the couch. “I see. Let me know if you’d like to move.”

Logan is also really warm. Which is not fair. He’s not supposed to be cold, why is he cold? That’s Janus’s schtick. And he’s humming under his breath which is really nice and grounding but also why is Logan humming so goddamn endearing?

“Little one?”

Ah, yes, the pet names. Forgot about those. “Hmm?”

“Have you had a chance to see the twins yet?”

Something takes hold of his chest. “No, why?”

“Hush, little one, it’s nothing bad. Only that they were worried about you and I’d hate for them to—“

“Found him!”

“—over-react,” Logan sighs, adjusting his grip slightly to pull him out of the way as Remus sinks directly onto the couch, “be careful.”

“But I win! I found him!”

“Wait, what?” Virgil peeks out warily, “Win what?”

“Whoever found you first gets cat-pile dibs!”

“Gets what?”

“You,” Roman announces, storming down the stairs covered in…something, “cheated.”

“Uh-huh. And it worked! You lost!”

“That’s beside the point!”

“Wait, wait, go back, what—win? What’s going on?”

“Boys,” Logan scolds and wow, okay, Logan clearly needs to speak up more often with how fast both of them stop fighting and pay attention, “explain yourselves.”

“Virgil likes deep pressure stims,” Remus says, “so cat pile!”

“We both wanted to find you,” Roman says softly, snapping his fingers to get the whatever-the-fuck-that-was off of him, “and it became a competition of who could find you first.”

“…why?”

Roman frowns. “Why what?”

“Why did you want to find me so bad?”

And see, now, this might be the moment he actually seals his fate, because the second Roman and Remus find out he’s been spiraling and crying, he’s going to be smothered in affection and die in the fluffiest way possible.

And Remus, lovable pain in the ass that he is, can hear all the nasty little thought bastards still swirling around Virgil’s head.

“Emo,” he says, and ah, fuck, Remus got soft, I’m doomed, “you okay?”

Janus sticks his head up before Virgil can stay anything and that’s apparently good enough.

“You need a cat pile?” Remus snaps his fingers too and he’s in soft things now, holding out his arms. “That make you feel better?”

“Probably,” Virgil mumbles as Logan picks him up with his freaky strength and hands him off to Remus, “you won, right?”

“Yes, I did,” Remus says, sounding far too pleased as Roman murmurs to the others, “now, once Roro makes the mattress—“

“I’m on it, Re, be patient.”

“—you can come lie on top of me, okay?”

Virgil just nods as Remus ruffles his hair.

“You gotta let Roro sulk for a bit for losing,” he whispers as Roman not-so-subtly tosses a pillow at them, “then he’ll cuddle you too.”

“Cookies are done,” Patton says, “but they need to cool for about ten minutes.”

“Excellent.” Janus slithers into the bed and stretches out, sighing. “I need to sleep.”

“I think we could use a nap.” Logan lies down next as Patton snuggles in on the side. “Everyone have enough room?”

“One moment.”

Roman reaches out and draws back the curtain, filling the room with the soft golden glow of the setting sun.

“Can you stop making us all aesthetic? ’S too good.”

“No can do, sorry.”

Remus just sighs and bundles Virgil into a cuddle on the mattress. Remus is big and soft and warm and Virgil isn’t too upset about dying like this.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay. You wanna be distracted?”

“Can you just hold me?”

“Can do!”

Remus cuddles him for a while before he sighs dramatically and hands him off to Roman, who is watching them with his big puppy dog eyes.

“Hello, Stormcloud,” he murmurs once he has his arms full of Virgil, “fancy seeing you here.”

Virgil snuffles into his shoulder as Roman nuzzles the top of his head.

“I missed you,” he says and Roman needs to be less good at the whole tender-yearning-caring thing, “my little shadow-ling.”

“R-Roman…”

“Yeah? What’s up, Stormcloud?”

“R-Ro—“

“Hey, hey,” Roman’s cooing as soon as Virgil’s traitorous eyes well up again, “we’re all right here, shadow-ling, we’ve got you. Remus—“

“Got it.”

And now Remus is curling up behind him and they’re both so warm and Roman’s still talking in that voice and goddamnit.

“You be quiet in there,” Remus growls against the crown of his head, “leave our Emo alone.”

“We’ve got you, Virgil,” Roman promises, “always and forever.”

Yeah, this…this is fine.

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