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hiramaris · 15 days

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Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 6

Chapter Summary:

"You were avoiding me." Haley finally said, and she commended her voice from not shaking. "You don't want to dance with me." "I..." You seemed taken aback by Haley's observation. "I wasn't..."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: none i think?

Notes:

The most awaited Flower Festival. Buckle up, simps.

Spring 24

Four days.

For freaking days since you had abruptly decided to avoid her.

And yes, she's definitely counting it.

What she didn't get is why? Why the sudden aversion?

Haley had tried to rack her brain for any reason, just anything but she couldn't find any. She tried to recall the events that night.

Haley took you home from the saloon because your ass was so drunk you couldn't even stand on your own feet without tripping.

And then there's... that.

With a heavy sigh, Haley placed her white dress for the flower dance on her bed.

She should have been excitedly preparing for the upcoming dance, but the stupid farmer had been occupying her mind today.

Even yesterday.

And even the day before that, and the day after that.

After your sudden declaration of 'feelings?' (yes, she's questioning because what the hell does that mean?), Haley had found herself speechless for the umpteenth time that night.

She couldn't find her voice, or rather, she didn't know how to respond to that. Fortunately, before she could, you shook your head as if you had said something silly.

Your moment of soberness dissipated completely as you slumped back to Haley. You had been a bit cooperative after that as both of you were able to go to your farm without any further hitch.

Haley was all but familiar with your farm. She had occasionally taken her pictures here when Old Railey was alive. She was fond of him.

He was kind and he kind of reminded her of her grandma. When he died, there was a large part of Haley that still grieves for him until now. Which is maybe why she was a bit apprehensive at you when she first came. At Haley's little time at Pelican town, she knew how much Old Railey sacrificed for the farm, to see it run down like that and be given to a complete stranger— a city girl no less, never mind you're his granddaughter.

But as she stood at the entrance of the farm, with the same farmer she loathed beside her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as she saw the state of the farm for the first time since you moved here.

The once-overgrown grass and unruly weeds that had taken over the farm were now perfectly tamed. A neatly constructed wooden path led towards what Haley assumed was your cabin.

Despite the darkness surrounding her, she could spot a variety of spring crops flourishing in the distance. Blue jazz, cauliflower, green beans, parsnips, and many others were thriving under your care. While there were still renovations to be done, Haley couldn't help but be impressed by how well you were doing. As if you're really meant for farming.

The cabin looks freshly renovated, too. Last time she heard it was a bit crusty and on the verge of collapsing.

As Haley stepped into your home, she was greeted by a small ginger cat. The feline locked eyes with her for a moment, assessing her presence before realizing she meant no harm and had come with her owner.

Sensing Haley's intention, the cat let out a loud meow, leading her towards a closed door on the right, which she assumed to be your room.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Haley had managed to settle you on the bed and was ready to head home herself. However, it appeared that you had other plans.

You suddenly sat up straight and grabbed her hand as if sensing Haley was about to leave.

Haley looked at you, waiting expectantly.

And then it happened.

There's vomit.

It was everywhere—on Haley's pajamas, the blankets, and even your own shirt.

Haley wanted to scream in frustration, but worry had won over her disgust as she heard you have a coughing fit. She gently shook your shoulders, trying to get your attention.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern lacing her words.

"I'm..." you coughed, voice strained, "my head hurts..."

And that's the sole reason Haley has to borrow some set of clothes from the farmer's wardrobe, change the bed sheets and blankets—

And...

Change your clothes.

The memory made Haley's cheeks burn with embarrassment, but she had no other choice. There was no way she could sleep beside you with vomit-stained sheets, and you smelling like that.

Haley's face flushed with embarrassment as a sudden realization hit her like a ton of Emily's hippie rocks.

Oh...

There's also one bed. You and her slept on the same bed.

So, it kinda makes sense now.

Why in Yoba's name has she just realized this now?

No wonder Emily had given her a funny look earlier when she had returned that morning wearing obviously your varsity shirt.

Haley had also completely missed the bright, bold letters spelling out "L/N" stitched on the back of the shirt, which is also why Penny couldn't look at her in the eyes when they crossed paths that morning when the redhead decided to visit you at the farm to check on you.

Yoba.

They must have thought that you and her had slept together.

And maybe you thought that, too as well.

The thought made Haley cringe and she facepalmed at the awkwardness of the situation.

It certainly didn't help that you couldn't remember anything from that night after your eighth bottle.

And to add to the mix-up, you had to wake up with a hangover and everything and seeing Haley casually cooking breakfast in your house while wearing your shirt.

It was practically a neon signboard pointing at her as if saying "hey, last night was an absolute blast, why don't I make you some breakfast while I'm here?"

Just great.

This is an absolute disaster.

****

"Is she joining the dance?" Haley wondered aloud, her eyes fixed on you who was engaged in a conversation with Penny, Maru, and Harvey.

"Hmm?" Alex paused in his fidgeting, adjusting his suit that had somehow grown on him. He followed Haley's gaze and spotted you amidst the group. "Oh, you mean Old Mac? I don't think so."

Haley turned to him with furrowed eyebrows," Old Mac? What's with you and all these people calling her all sorts of names? Why can't you just call her Y/n and stick with it?"

"Whoa, slow down, cowgirl." Alex barked out a laugh at her sudden outburst. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

"Nothing!" Haley replied, trying to brush off her frustration. Deep down, though, the different names people used for you bothered her more than she cared to admit.

And the worst of it all is she doesn't know why she's pissed.

She turned away as she began pacing back and forth in the middle of the performance area.

She needs to practice her moves. Despite being crowned the flower queen for five consecutive years and having the dance steps etched into her muscle memory, she didn't want to be so full of herself.

But in reality, she was just trying her absolute best to not let her eyes settle on someone who wasn't even looking her way.

Which she have found to be a challenge.

You looked dashing, if Haley would dare admit that aloud.

But with whom?

Your hair is down too in its slick, natural wave, which you usually tied up in a messy ponytail.

You looked pretty similar to the way you looked when you first arrived in the town though you forgo the black slacks in exchange of a more brighter blue one, the same shade of the ridiculous suits the men wore for the dance which have made her assume you'll be dancing as well.

Usually, there are already designated partners for the dance and it would be quite impossible for you to learn the steps in just a month.

Maybe Penny? Leah? Or that weirdo that dyes her head blue all the time? She assumed you were close with her when you dominated all the eggs Abigail was after which earned the kids to win during the egg festival.

Whatever.

Why would she care anyway? You weren't even looking in her direction. Not even noticing that Haley did her hair differently or that she had chosen to apply a more natural make-up because you told her she's pretty enough without them.

"Ah!"

The sound of cry from Alex had made her dash towards his place in alarm.

Sam was immediate to his side, along with the other townspeople. "What happened?" she asked in urgent.

"Sorry, pal. I may have thrown it a bit too far." Sam scratched his neck in shame.

"Samson!" Jodi angrily admonished her son. "Look just what you did!"

"Ow..." Alex grunted as he tried to reach for his foot. "I think I broke my ankle."

"Can you stand?" You questioned as you helped him up. "Why'd you even bring your grid ball here?"

"H-hah. I can but I don't think I can walk it off. Hey, gramps. Mind if I borrow your wheels?" He tried to joke it off.

"Alexander!" Evelyn wasn't pleased with ay all with his humor.

"Heh, I'll give you this if I could go back home and watch TV."

"George! Don't even encourage him."

"Ehem," Mayor Lewis cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the crowd. "The festival is about to begin in five minutes. Will you be able to dance, young man?"

"I don't think so." Alex immediately answered, causing Haley to snap her head towards him in disbelief.

"What do you mean you can't?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening. "How am I supposed to dance without a partner?"

She knew it was a selfish question but how can he be so stupid bringing his ball with him?!

A mischievous grin spread across Alex's lips as he pulled you closer, resting his hand on your shoulders. "Old Mac here can replace me. I already taught her the moves."

"What?" you choked, eyebrows raising so far it hid behind your bangs. "I don't..."

"You got this. There's no need to worry. In fact," he shrugged off his coat and handed it over to your shaking hands. "It doesn't fit me anymore. It'll probably suit you better."

"B-but..."

"Wouldn't it be better if Sam takes your place since he's already familiar with the dance?" Penny tentatively suggested as she eyed Haley. "I know how much winning the crown means to you, Haley. It might be best for Sam to step in for Alex, considering it was his fault too." She glanced apologetically at Sam. "Sorry, Sam. I can dance with Y/n/n instead."

"Um, no," Alex dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Haley feels more comfortable dancing with Old Mac. That's more important."

"W-wait a second," Haley finally found her voice, her gaze still avoiding the person standing beside her. She could feel your eyes on her, and Haley wasn't ready just yet to see the look of refusal from your eyes. "Can't we get a say in this?!"

"Nope!" Alex chirped.

"Very well, then," Mayor Lewis interjected, clapping his hands together. "Let the festival begin!"

****

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Haley whispered, her hands trembling slightly as they held onto your neck. Her palms had grown clammy, and her racing heart seemed to drown out the lively rhythm of the music.

"Huh?"

Your voice held a hint of confusion, drawing Haley's gaze away from the ground to meet a pair of captivating gray eyes. The faintest tinge of pink colored your cheeks and your eyes struggled to hold steady.

You looked... bashful.

It also did not miss her how the hands securely wrapped around her waist were shaking as well.

"You were avoiding me." Haley finally said, and she commended her voice for not squeaking. "You don't want to dance with me."

"I..." You seemed taken aback by Haley's observation. "I wasn't..."

"Could've fooled me," Haley muttered under her breath as you gracefully twirled her around and pulled her back into your arms.

Despite the thick tension between you two, it looked like you really did actually perfected your moves and were able to dance in sync with Haley's.

"You wanted to dance with Penny, don't you?" She almost sounded accusatory.

"I don't." Your answer was swift. "I don't want to dance with anyone but you. And I wasn't avoiding you."

Haley avoided your gaze. "Where were you then? I haven't seen you in days. You haven't visited us for breakfast." Her grip on your coat tightened as she looked up from the taller woman. "If it was because of what happened that day, nothing happened, okay?"

As you twirled her once more, your bodies drew closer, so close that she could also see bits of hazel from your gray eyes.

Your cheeks burned once more as you muttered, "It's not that."

"Tell me," Haley demanded.

"I was out mining." You admitted sheepishly. "And maybe I was kind of avoiding you..." Your eyes started cringing at the glare Haley was giving you. "I was embarrassed that I puked on you. Alex told me it was your self-care day and... I know I ruined it for you. And now I ruined your dance."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. "Idiot," she mutters, her arms finally relaxing against your shoulder. "You haven't ruined anything." She told you simply.

"Yet," you added, chuckling.

As the tension dissipates, you grow a little bolder as your hands relaxed around her waist, pulling Haley a little tighter against you. The warmth radiating from your palms gave Haley a profound sense of security, one she haven't felt for a long, long time.

"You know," Haley whispered against your neck, relaxing against your embrace. She didn't care if this wasn't part of the choreography. "You smell good today."

She felt you smiled against her hair, "Had to smell my best for my queen, right?"

****

Notes:

Spring's finally over! Summer here we come! Question though. Is my pacing fast or slow?

#stardew fanfic #stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew haley #haley x farmer #haley x reader #stardew alex #stardew sam #stardew penny #stardew valley fanfic

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supercap2319 · 1 month

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Ben wasn't sure what to expect. All he was told was to meet his boyfriend, Y/N, at Harry and Gil's dorm room. He had been accustomed to the habits and traits of the Isle's kids, especially the guys.

He watched as the last of the sidekicks cleared out of the room. Something about being given a more important role in the community. Most of them were understanding about being given a bigger part in the heroic story of a prince, princess, or common street rat. Grumpy was the worst one.

He said goodbye to his council members before fixing his tailored suit and walking out of his office and towards the boys's wing.

Ben knocked on the door and watched as the door opened by itself. Either they forgot to close it all the way, or they didn't care. Probably the latter. Ben thought to himself as he entered the room.

It stunk. Like a locker room. If that locker room was covered in seaweed and sand and sailed across the seven seas. Ben knew that Isle kids were messy, but this was something else entirely. Not even Y/N was this dirty, but that's probably because Ben was his roommate, and he turned Y/N into a clean freak.

Ben tried not to let it affect him as he looked around the room. All the scattered clothes of pirates and dangerous weapons and jewelry. Ben would have to ask about where Harry and Gil got those from later, but first.

"Y/N? You here?"

"Well, well, well. Prince Beasty. What a nice surprise." Harry came out of the bathroom, naked as the day he was born. His fake hook was in his left hand. Gil came out of the room and smiled, naked as well. "Hey, Ben! Nice to see you, dude."

Ben opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by Y/N walking into the room in a blue and gold robe (one of Ben's) and in underwear (also Ben's). "Hey, you. You made it." Y/n walked towards him and kissed his cheek as Harry rolled his eyes and gagged.

"Y/N, what's going on here?" Ben asked.

"Well, besides the smell, I was thinking that I should introduce you to an Isle's thing." Y/N grabbed Ben's hand and let him closer to Harry and Gil.

"What kind of Isle thing?" Ben asked nervously.

"On the Isle of the Lost, we have mates. Territory and property. You're my property and Gil's Harry's. The only way to touch someone else's property is to ask. And Harry wants you. In that way."

Ben let that sink in with wide eyes. "H-H-Harry wants to make love to me?"

"Make love?" Harry laughed. "We call it fucking Prince Beasty."

"You don't have to say yes, but if you do, you'll get to play with all of us. Isle's boys are versatile. You'll get to take as well as give." Y/N said.

The King of Auradon gulped. This was wrong. This was simply sinful, but he couldn’t deny all the sights and smells were starting to make his Beast crazy. Ben growled, literally. "I wanna play."

"Excellent." Harry grinned.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #descendants #descendants x reader #ben florian #Ben Florian x male reader #ben beast #Ben Beast x male reader #mitchell hope #Mitchell Hope x male reader #harry hook #dylan playfair #thomas doherty #gil descendants

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stomach-bugg09 · 1 year

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summary: fali gets to meet the sully family, and he has never been more terrified.

a/n: now how can i possibly start this? thank you so much. seriously. this is actually insane !! the support received on the last [y/n] sully x fali fic has provided me with enough motivation to pull this little thing together in two days ( i also decided, if you haven't seen my last post, that the general public would prefer small short imagines rather than a story-like series !! ) it’s much shorter than the last one (1.5k), but it’s very sweet. i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. NOTE: to those who have sent requests in, thank you so much !! i am working through them slowly but surely, and i’ve already planned out the majority of them. thank you all again, hope you enjoy !! feedback, reblogs, and reqs are always appreciated !!

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @eywas-heir @historygeekqueen @325575 @inutheangel @bonnibuckets @silkenthusiasts @inarihl @marvelwweprinxessesworld @perseny @wxnderingthoughts @mashiromochi ( quick note: a majority of these are based on comments from part one, but if you have interest in being added to the official taglist, please check out and comment on my tag guide !! )

warnings: none except for major fluff, maybe some happy lil tears, the cutest little relationship ever, jake and neytiri being scary, relationship goals ( could possibly make you feel extremely lonely—that is how i am currently feeling !! )

part i

meet the family

fali liked to consider himself to be brave. he was born as the only child to his parents, vi’ieo and fpai, two extremely well respected warriors of the metkayina. thanks to his mother’s childhood connection with ronal, he was raised alongside tsireya and ao’nung, almost like he was their older brother.

to say that he’d encountered a scary parent before would be an understatement. not only did he have fpai and vi’ieo’s wrath underneath his belt, but he also had experienced that of ronal and tonowari.

so, why was fali so freaked out when he saw jake sully stomping towards him, lo’ak and neteyam trailing right behind him. a few steps later walked [y/n], her arms crossed in front of her chest and shoulders hunched sheepishly.

before he could even see [y/n]’s face, he knew exactly what was happening, flashbacks to the day before coming to mind. he should’ve known that their facade would be up as soon as tuk walked in on the two of them, immediately questioning “what the heck they were doing.” the two, desperate and dumb, answered by claiming they were playing shark. that’s why fali was biting her neck!

fali froze as he saw the sully males walk closer and closer, nearly letting the net full of fish that he’d grabbed from the reef trap slip out of his grip. he was lucky that his reflexes were more than equipped, immediately adjusting his grip so he could continue pulling the net onto the dock.

as he heaved the net upwards, flipping it over his shoulder to land on the wooden boards beside his feet, jake sully and his sons took their first steps onto the dock, tracking bits of sand off of the shore into the cracks and crannies of the worn down grain.

fali swallowed, stepping overtop the net so it didn’t awkwardly sit between him and the sully boys, inhaling sharply as he could finally read the expression of [y/n].

“lo’ak, neteyam,” he greeted with a smile, not letting his nerves get to the surface. he then nodded at jake, “sir.” fali brought his hand up, gesturing oel ngati kameie to the omaticayans.

“fali,” jake sully returned, his expression flat and grim. the man sure knows how to intimidate, fali thought, swallowing a nervous wad of spit.

“how can i help you?” fali asked, smile bright and voice kind.

jake chuckled at that, although he didn’t seem all that amused. “skip the formalities, fali,” he commanded, leading fali to nod immediately. at that, jake hid an impressed expression. he’s clearly grown up alongside warrior parents.

“so,” jake continued slowly, allowing [y/n] to finally catch up, stopping next to the youngest brother. the father’s eyes drifted from his daughter back to fali. “you’re the one she chose?”

“i suppose if that’s how you want to put it,” fali chuckled nervously, his hands growing clammy as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

jake nodded slowly at that. fali cursed himself. “how would you put it?”

“dad!” [y/n] hissed, but her words went ignored.

“uh,” he trailed, head ducking as he scratched the back of his neck, not missing the amused expressions that rested on both neteyam and lo’ak’s faces.

“look,” jake saved him from answering, knowing that fali was far too clueless. “all that we’re here to say is the simple rundown.”

fali felt himself straightening his shoulders, forcing himself to hold eye contact. he did not need his girlfriend’s father disliking him.

“in the most basic form, if you hurt her,” jake trailed, his eyes flickering to his oldest who held her head in her hands, indigo washing out her face due to the embarrassment. “we—” his hand raised, gesturing to the three males—”hurt you.”

“dad!” [y/n] scolded again, voice much louder as she clasped a hand overtop her mouth, jaw dropped in the slightest bit.

fali swallowed, the two younger boys stifling laughs from behind their father.

“understood?”

immediately, the metkayina boy nodded. “yes, sir.”

and then, it was almost as if the tension from seconds earlier dissipated. “good,” jake affirmed, a smile gracing his lips. he offered his forearm to the boy. “it is good to finally meet you.”

fali returned his grin, grasping jake’s arm. “and me, you.”

fali thought that he was safe. he finally got the talk done with his girlfriend’s ( extremely scary ) father! what else was there to worry about?

well, fali was in for a pleasant surprise!

later that afternoon, after debriefing with [y/n]—a conversation that’d been full of laughter, mainly because [y/n] was poking fun at him—the pair decided that, since the word was out and had spread very quickly ( news didn’t take long in the metkayina villages ), they would spend the day together.

at one point, after they managed to finish all of their duties for the day, they seemed to wander back to the sully’s marui.

“you should meet my mother,” [y/n] begged, her eyes bright.

he laughed at her desperation. “i have already met your mother through ronal.”

“officially meet her. and you know what i mean!”

fali hummed, using to hand that he wasn’t using to hold [y/n]’s to tap against his chin, miming a deep state of thinking. “well, i suppose.”

and that’s how the two found themselves bounding across the sand, [y/n]’s face bright with joy as she held his hand. the exuberant girl practically dragged him, willing him to walk faster.

it was so weird to [y/n]. having something—someone—of her own. someone that she could bring home to show off to her family, someone that she could finally claim as someone that she loved. she’d never been able to do that before.

fali couldn’t help but feel immense joy every time he looked at her. every time she wore that brilliant smile, that gorgeous way that the skin around her eyes wrinkled. fali’d experienced… a lot. he was an impressive and very attractive warrior, after all, but despite whatever experimenting had been done all those years ago, nothing compared to this.

as the two finally found themselves in a close proximity to the sully’s marui, it was as if fali finally remembered that, while jake was scary, neytiri was terrifying.

once they entered, they immediately saw neytiri who sat behind tuk. the mother was busy threading beads into the youngest child’s hair, a desire that the baby of the family had been requesting for months.

at the sight, [y/n] laughed, causing neytiri to look up with her eyebrow muscles raised. “you finally did it?” she questioned, quickly leaping over top the junk that was scattered in the entrance and crossing her legs besides her baby sister.

“yes!” tuk cried triumphantly. “i even got to pick the beads.”

“this one’s pretty,” [y/n] mused, analyzing a clay bead that’d been stained a deep blue color.

neytiri cleared her throat before she shoved the bowl of beads into her eldest’s hands. “take these,” she demanded, pushing herself onto her feet.

at the action, fali swallowed. the sully family sure was protective.

he fixed his posture as the mother walked over, carefully avoiding the messy obstacles thanks to her childrens’ inability to clean up after themselves. she stopped directly in front of the boy.

“ma’am,” he greeted, gesturing for the second time that day.

“fali.” neytiri’s smile was warm, comforting. and yet, he still felt a bit nervous. with neytiri, she did not vocalize her threats or warnings, but they didn’t need to be vocalized. oh no, with neytiri, you just knew.

“i’m sorry that we could not have a formal introduction to you and my daughter’s relationship,” neytiri offered, her eyes staring straight into his soul.

at that, fali chuckled. “me too, but i’m afraid the only people at fault for how it played out was, well, us.” he caught the gaze of [y/n], her stare soft and smile gentle.

neytiri’s amused grin only grew at those words. “next time you decide to do that, i suggest making sure you’re not in the same proximity as my youngest child.”

fali blushed at that, a deep indigo spreading throughout his entire face. “whoops.” he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

luckily for him, the small voice of tuk had both him an neytiri looking back at the sully girls. “fali!” she cried. “come help! it is taking too long.”

at that, [y/n] gasped in mock offense. “i’m trying, tuk.”

“try harder.”

fali laughed, and once he got a soft nod from the mother, he made his way over to the pair of siblings sitting on the floor. “i’m not sure i’ll be of much use. i’ve never done this before!”

“come here.” [y/n] patted the ground beside her. “i will teach you.”

“please do not ruin my hair, fali. if you make me look ugly, you aren’t allowed to date my big sister.”

“noted,” fali trailed, sitting down behind the baby sully. his eyes tracked over to [y/n]’s hands, watching how her fingers moved in order to get the beads on successfully.

“like this—do you see?”

“mhm…”

“and then you take this.”

“yes i see that.”

“no, dumbie, like this.”

“oh!”

from the entrance of the marui, two pairs of eyes watched the young couple, their gazes soft.

“he is good,” neytiri whispered to jake, leaning her head on his shoulder.

jake hummed in agreement. “they are good.”

#avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #tuk sully #tuktirey #loak sully #sully family #sully family x reader #sully family x y/n #sully siblings x reader #sully!reader #jake sully #lo'ak x oldersister!reader #lo'ak sully #loak #lo'ak #neteyam #neytiri

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mrtwizz · 1 year

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Snow On The Beach W.A. [Part One]

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader slow burn series

Warnings: canon violence, it’s slow burn, reader likes bees, unedited

Word count: 6.7

Summary: Y/n takes a small liking to the new girl who allegedly killed two normies at her old school.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

It was a usual Sunday in Enid’s dorm room, her and Y/n were doing their weekend assignments that they put off for last minute. Later Enid had plans to redo Y/n’s nails as they had chipped last week when she smashed her hand in a drawer. She even made a mental note to ask her new roommate if she wanted hers done, just in case she warmed up to the pair quicker than expected.

The door to the room opened, both Enid and Y/n looked up to see who had entered. Y/n sat up from her lying position on Enid’s bed to see that it was Principle Weems and the new girl. Y/n stands up while Enid squeals and jumps up from her position at her desk, “Howdy, roomie!”

“Wednesday, this is Enid Sinclair, and Y/n L/n.” Weems introduced the three, as Y/n moved to stand next to Enid.

Wednesday said nothing as she took in the room she stood in, and the girls in front of her. The blonde, Enid, was wearing the purple pinstripe uniforms. While the other one wasn’t, or at least it wasn’t the proper uniform. Where Enid’s went down to her shins, Y/n’s stopped above her knees. She also didn’t have the matching jacket.

“Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.” Enid points out.

The new girl, Wednesday, looks horrified.

“Wednesday always looks half-dead.” The man behind her says, presumably her father.

“Oh,” Enid says in a soft whisper, and outstretches her arms, “welcome to Ophelia Hall.” She moves forward to embrace Wednesday, who promptly moves backwards to avoid the interaction. “Not a hugger, got it.”

“Please excuse Wednesday, she’s allergic to color.” Her mother says, and grimaces as if there's stories to tell about how they found that out.

“Oh wow, what happens to you?” Enid questions.

In a flat tone, Wednesday speaks for the first time, “I break out into hives, and then the flesh peels off my bones.”

“Luckily, we’ve ordered a special uniform. Enid, Y/n, please take Wednesday to the registrar's office, to pick it up along with her schedule. Give her a tour along the way.” Weems smiles.

The blonde werewolf does a little happy dance while Wednesday turns to face her parents, who’s faces fall at the look their daughter gives them. She quickly walked past the two of them out into the hall where Enid and Y/n happily followed, Enid skipping as she did so.

Enid begins her history lesson on the place, “Built to educate people like us,” She was walking backwards as she spoke to maintain eye contact with Wednesday.

“Freaks, outcasts, monsters,” Y/n filled in, walking beside her.

“You can save the sanitized sales pitch,” Wednesday said, looking around as she stopped in front of Enid and Y/n, “I don’t plan on staying here for long.”

“Why not?” Enid asks.

“This was my parents’ idea,” Wednesday looked at something behind Y/n’s shoulder, “Oh look, there’s my mother smirking at me”

Y/n moves her head to look at the picture Wednesday was looking at, “They’ve been looking for any excuse to send me here. It’s all a part of their nefarious,” Once more the raven haired girl turns back to Y/n and Enid,”yet completely obvious plan.” Enid’s tone is a stark contrast to Wednesday’s plain and flat one, “What plan?”

“To turn me into a version of themselves.”

Enid and Y/n grimace, “In that case, perhaps you can clear something up.” Enid begins to lead her tour once more, “Rumor’s been swirling around that you killed a kid at your old school, and your parents pulled strings to get you off.”

“Actually, it was two kids, but who’s counting?” Wednesday quickens her pace.

Enid falters for a moment and stands still, where Y/n quickens to keep up with the girl. Soon they make their way outside, and Y/n places her sunglasses over her eyes.

“Welcome to the quad,” Enid stretches her arms out for dramatics.

“It’s a pentagon.” Wednesday observes the awful name choice for the courtyard.

“The whole snarky goth girl thing might have worked at your normie school, but here things are different.” If anyone else had been speaking, Y/n’s tone might have come off condescending, but it was cheery and meant to give some sort of light to the situation.

“Let me give you a rundown on Nevermore’s social scene.” Enid turns to Wednesday and then begins to walk off again.

“I’m not interested in participating in tribal adolescent cliches.”

“Well then use it to fill your obviously bottomless pit of disdain,” Enid begins, “there are many flavors of outcasts here.”

“There are the four main cliques,” She counts off on her fingers, “Fangs, Furs, Stoners and scales.”

“Those are the Fangs, aka Vampires. Some of them have literally been here for decades.” Y/n explains.

“That bunch of knuckleheads are Furs, aka werewolves. Like me!” Enid says, “Full moons get pretty loud around here, that’s when Furs wolf out.”

“I suggest you pick up a pair of noise-canceling headphones.” Y/n says in a joking manner, but both know it's not a joke.

Wednesday ignores her comment and looks at the group around the fountain, “I’m assuming Scales are sirens.”

“You catch on quick.And that girl, ” Enid points to one of the sirens, “Bianca Barclay, is the closest thing Nevermore has to Royalty.”

Y/n smiles at the implication, “She’s my roommate, and you will soon be happy Enid is your roommate and not Bianca.”

Enid ignores the comment, “She used to date our resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe. But they broke up at the beginning of the semester. Reason unknown.” “Fascinating.” Wednesday says in a cold tone.

“I know right!” Enid went on, “My blog is like, the number one source for Nevermore gossip.”

“Yo, Enid, Y/n! You’re not gonna believe the dirt I heard about your new roommate!” Enid’s crush, Ajax, approached.

Y/n rolled her eyes from beside Enid and turned to face Ajax, who went on about the rumors, “She eats human flesh. Totally chowed down on that kid she murdered. You better watch your back.”

Enid stepped aside to reveal Wednesday, “Quite the contrary, I actually fillet the bodies of my victims. Then feed them to my menagerie of pets.”

Y/n silently wondered if Wednesday found enjoyment in making others squirm at the details of her alleged killings.

Enid’s tone is as cheery as ever, “Ajax, this is my new roommate, Wednesday.”

“Woah, you’re in black and white.” The gorgon boy looked the new girl up and down. “Like a living Instagram filter.”

“Ignore him, gorgons spend way too much time getting stoned.” Y/n stated as Enid turned Ajax away. She turned back to Y/n and Wednesday, “He’s cute, but clueless.” “Clueless? Yes, cute? Still up for debate.” Y/n breathed out a laugh.

“Shut up,” Enid gave Y/n a small shove, “anyways, it’s a small school. There wasn’t a lot online about you. You really should get on Insta, Snapchat, and TikTok.”

“I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation.” Wednesday turned back around, leaving Enid defeated.

The three finally made it to the office to get Wednesday's schedule and uniform. They then parted for her to say her goodbyes to her family.

Later that night when Enid and Y/n made their way back to Enid’s room they were shocked by the sight they saw. Wednesday was crouched down in front of the window peeling off the stickers that gave the room a colorful shine.

“What the hell did you do to my room?” Enid demands as she marches into the room.

Y/n carefully shut the door behind her, standing and observing the two of them.

“Dividing our room equally.” Wednesday says as she stands up, “Looks like a rainbow vomited on your side.”

“I-” Enid tries to spit something out.

“Silence would be appreciated, this is my writing time.” Wednesday sits down in front of an old-timey typewriter and pulls up the sleeves of her black zip-up.

“Your writing time?” Enid asks, still having not moved from the middle of the room.

“I devote an hour a day to my novel. Perhaps if you did the same, your blog might be coherent. I’ve read serial killer diaries with better punctuation.” Wednesday’s hands look to not know what to do with themselves for just a moment.

Y/n made her way over to Enid’s bed to sit with all of the stuffed animals on the bed, she grabbed one of them and placed it in her lap as she did so.

“I write in my voice! It’s my truth. It’s what my followers love.” Enid defends her blog.

Wednesday turns to face Enid, “Your followers are clearly imbeciles.” She pushes off the desk chair and walks toward the girl, “They respond to your stories with stupid little pictures.”

Enid scoffs, “You mean emojis? It’s how people express their feelings. I realize that’s a foreign concept for you.”

“When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind. Rope, shovel, hole.” Wednesday pauses a little after each one for dramatic effect, “By the way, there’s two D’s in Addams. If you’re going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly.”

Enid ignores her and puts on some bubble-gum pop music, and begins to dance, making Wednesday’s head snap in her direction.

“Turn that off,”

Enid ignores her and continues to dance in a taunting manner.

Wednesday huffs and walks over to the colorful girl, “This is your final warning.”

Enid makes a noise that is supposed to sound like a growl, that makes Y/n laugh from over on the bed, but instead comes out playful as she bears her manicured claws. Wednesday eyes the claws.

“Don’t mess with me.” It comes out as a genuine threat, just because Enid is all cute and rainbows doesn’t mean she couldn't be dangerous if she wanted to be. “This kitty’s got claws, and I’m not afraid to use them.”

The door opens, “Good evening, girls. Sorry about the mud.” Enid hides her hands behind her back and Y/n stops fidgeting with the stuffed toy in her lap to look at who opened the door. All three girls look at Ms. Thornhill.

“I wanted to make sure that Wednesday was settling in. Is this a bad time?” She asks, it’s a rhetorical question.

“Most definitely.” Y/n speaks for the first time since her and Enid entered the room.

All heads snap to the girl sitting in Enid’s bed, Enid and Wednesday had both forgotten she was there.

Ms Thornhill decides to ignore her comment and introduces herself, “I’m your dorm mom, Apologies I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Enid, and Y/n apparently, have given you the old Nevermore welcome.”

“They’ve been smothering me in hospitality, I hope to return the favor. In her sleep.” Wednesday speaks, everyone hopes it's a joke but nobody is sure.

“Well, here’s a little welcoming gift from my conservatory.” She smiles as she hands Wednesday a black dahlia flower. “I try to match a flower with each of my girls, and when I read your personal statement in your application, I immediately thought of this one.”

“The black dahlia,” Wednesday looks at the flower.

“Oh you know it?” Ms Thornhill questions.

“Of course. It’s named after my favorite unsolved murder.” There’s a moment of silence, “Thank you.”

“Okey-dokey. Before I leave, I want to go over a few house rules. Lights off at ten, no loud music, and no boys, ever.” She emphasizes the last part, making Y/n snicker.

“Do you have something to share, Y/n?” Ms Thornhill looks over.

“No, no.” Y/n smothers her smile in the plush toy in her hands.

“What’s the story about going into the local town?” Wednesday asks.

“Passes to Jericho are a privilege, not a right. It’s a brisk twenty-five minute walk, or there’s a shuttle on the weekends. The locals are a tad bit wary about the Nevermore kids. So please, don’t go making any waves, or perpetuating any outcast stereotypes. That means keep your claws to yourself,” She turns to Enid first, then to Wednesday, “and no smothering people in their sleep.”

“Are we clear?” She waits for any objections, “Great talk!”

Ms Thornhill leaves with a wave.

“Anywho, Enid, can you fix my nails?” Y/n whines at the blonde the moment the door closes, and moves to grab her favorite colors of nail polish.

The next day goes without incident, Enid and Y/n do their thing and Wednesday does hers.

“Could be worse.” Y/n comments as Enid complains.

“How? She could be a deranged murderer? Oh wait!” Enid is exasperated.

“I call her bluff.” Y/n says as they make their way out of the library and to Enid’s dorm.

“Why do we never go to your room again?” Enid asks.

“Because Bianca? Duh.” Y/n feigns annoyance, she truly didn’t have anything against Bianca. The two were kind of friends, or at least Y/n considered her a friend.

As they open the door they hear music coming from Enid’s balcony, the two cross the room and step through the window as the song ends.

“How the hell did you get that oversized violin out the window?” Enid questions.

“It’s a cello.” Y/n mumbles before seeing the hand sitting on the music stand.

“I had an extra hand.” Wednesday says, not bothering to look at the girls behind her or the appendage waving at them.

“Woah.” Enid grimaces.

“Where’s the rest of him?” Y/n asks.

“It’s one of the great Addams family mysteries.” Wednesday replies, placing the bow on the stand.

The hand drops from the stand with a thump and walks away. If that’s what you can call it.

In the distance the three can hear the Furs howling out.

“Why aren’t you wolfing out?” Wednesday looks at Enid.

Y/n frowns at Enid’s body language, knowing how she felt about not being able to wolf out yet.

“Cause I can’t,” She turns and looks at Wednesday and flashes her claws, “it’s all I got.”

She walks over to the edge of the balcony and Y/n moves to stand next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders while Enid rests her head on the other girl’s shoulder.

“My mom says some wolves are late bloomers, but I’ve been to the best Lycanologist. I had to fly to Milwaukee, can you believe it?”

Wednesday made her way over to the pair.

“Yeah, she says there’s a chance I may never…you know.”

“What happens then?” Wednesday stood on the other side of Y/n.

“I’d become a lone wolf.” Enid’s voice cracks at the thought.

“Sound’s perfect.” Wednesday says, clearly not reading the room.

“Are you kidding me? My life would actually be officially over.” Wednesday looks over at them, “I’d be kicked out of my family pack, with no prospect of finding a mate.”

“I’m failing to see the problem here.” Wednesday voices.

“I could die alone!” The blonde exclaims, horrified.

“We all die alone, Enid.” Wednesday states, as if it’s a known fact,

“I will never leave you Enid.” Y/n comforts.

“You really suck at this, Wednesday.” Enid utters and her voice cracks again, “Cheering people up.” She begins to cry.

Wednesday turns to Enid and Y/n, “Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m upset!” She moves her head from Y/n’s shoulder to look at the other girl, “Haven’t you ever cried? Or are you above that too?”

“I was six years old,” Wednesday began, “I took my pet scorpion, Nero, out for his afternoon stroll, and we were ambushed. They wondered what kind of freak would have a scorpion for a pet. Two of them held me down and made me watch,” She paused, “while the others ran Nero over until…” She trailed off.

“It was snowing when I buried what was left of him. I cried my little black heart out, but tears don’t fix anything. So I vowed to never do it again.” Wednesday finished and Furs began to howl once more.

“Your secret’s safe with us,” Enid said.

“Still think you’re weird as shit though.” Y/n added to lighten the mood.

“The feeling is incredibly mutual.” Wednesday looked over, “how would you like your single room back? You just need to show me how to use your computer.”

Y/n and Enid look at each other and get set on explaining to Wednesday on how to use technology. Wednesday then sends Thing off to the normie boy she met, Tyler.

The next few days go by with nothing remarkable happening, Enid and Y/n do their shenanigans, sometimes resulting in death threats from Wednesday. While the Addams girl continues working on her novel or playing the cello.

At the festival, Wednesday is a stark contrast from the other two girls she stands with. Both girls in varying shades of pinks, while she is wearing black and white. Maybe Ajax had a point…

“You seriously are going to get into a strange boy's car?” Y/n asks as they stare at the normie boy and his father.

“I mean, are you sure you can trust that normie?” Enid backs her friend up.

“I trust that I can handle myself.” Wednesday spoke, none of the three ever taking their eyes off the sheriff and his son.

The sheriff finally walks away from Tyler and Enid turns to face Wednesday, “Well, good luck and safe travels.”

Enid moves to try and hug Wednesday, who immediately shuffled back, resulting in her bumping into Y/n.

“Still not a hugger, got it.” Enid says and walks off, Y/n following behind.

For the next few hours Y/n and Enid play dumb carnival games and ride rides. They end up bumping into Yoko and some of their vampire friends.

Yoko and Enid were talking and something caught Y/n’s eye. It was Wednesday running after someone into the forest. Y/n pondered whether to follow and see what the commotion was, and after a moment she decided it was worth her while.

She quickly followed Wednesday and the boy, keeping a distance.

Suddenly Wednesday and the other figure stopped, “Rowan, wait.”

“What do you want?” Rowan growled out, “Why are you following me?”

“I don’t have time to explain, but you’re in danger.” Wednesday said.

Y/n hid herself behind a clump of trees, suddenly cursing the bright pink skirt she wore. The pair talked too quietly for Y/n to hear what was being said.

Then suddenly Wednesday’s body was being lifted into the air and thrown against a tree by Rowan’s telekinesis. Y/n gasped and she hoped Rowan didn’t hear, but it appeared Wednesday did. She looked right into Y/n’s eyes before they returned to Rowan’s.

“You’re the one who’s in danger.” Rowan says, an outstretched hand holding the girl up.

“What are you doing?” Wednesday asks, sounding frantic.

“Saving everyone from you.” Rowan responds, “I have to kill you.”

“The gargoyle, that was you?” Wednesday’s already wide eyes appear to widen, “It’s always the quiet ones.”

A paper flies up to the girl's face, “The girl in the picture, that’s you.”

Wednesday seems appalled, “You want to kill me because of some picture?”

“My mother drew that picture, twenty-five years ago, when she was a student at Nevermore.” Rowan’s voice seems rushed, “She was a powerful seer. Told me about it before she died.”

“Rowan, put me down.” Wednesday demands, once more sounding panicked.

“No! My mother said it was my destiny to stop this girl if she ever came to Nevermore.” Rowan sounds like a whining child who’s toy was taken, “Because she will destroy the school, and everyone in it.”

Rowan tightens his hold on Wednesday, who struggles against the tree.

“Rowan,” Y/n shouts, finally getting her whereabouts to step out from behind the tree.

The boy turns his head but doesn’t have time to respond when a growl comes from nowhere, and a creature unlike one Y/n had ever seen before grabs Rowan by his green zip up. The monster smashes the boy to the ground and Y/n is certain she heard a crack as Rowan screamed.

Wednesday crumbled down from the tree with a thud and watched as Rowan was torn to shreds. Blood splashed everywhere as the monster slashed through the boy. The monster looked at Wednesday and ran off, running by Y/n without giving the girl a second thought.

Y/n rushed to the bloodied body of Rowan, she knew the boy didn’t have a chance of living but checked his pulse anyways. Wednesday looked to the sky as something fell from above, it was the page torn from a book, and it landed on Rowan’s slice open chest. Wednesday picked it up before Y/n could get a good look at it.

As the two left the scene Y/n felt sick, and if she had anything in her stomach she would have thrown it back up.

Wednesday finally spoke, “Do not speak of this to anyone, not even Enid. If the cops ask any questions, let me speak.”

Y/n drew in a shaky breath, “Okay.”

Y/n woke the next morning to her alarm in her own room, her and Bianca danced around each other as they got ready. Their room wasn’t nearly as separated as Enid and Wednesday’s was and they constantly left things on the others’ side. They knew each other well enough to be considered friends but didn’t hang out besides when in their dorm. Y/n knew all about Bianca and Xavier’s relationship, and why it had ended.

The two knew almost every secret about one another, Y/n knew about Bianca’s past and vice versa.

The two went their separate ways for classes, and halfway through Y/n’s first lesson Principal Weems came in to ask to take Y/n out. When she left the class, the sheriff and Wednesday were both there.

“How could you miss a dead body?” Wednesday asked the man.

“‘Cause it wasn’t there?” The sheriff responded, “No footprints, no blood, no sign of a struggle. Nothing, nada.”

Suddenly all of last night's events flooded Y/n’s mind. “That’s impossible, I watched him be ripped apart, I saw Rowan’s chest cavity.”

Wednesday gritted her teeth, but showed no sign of…well anything.

“My search party looked all night.” He responded, as if that was supposed to clear everything he is claiming.

“Well, your search party must have left their seeing-eye dogs at home, I saw that monster kill Rowan.” Wednesday said as they walked up the stairs.

“Get a good look at this monster thing?” Sheriff asked accusingly.

“It didn’t stick around for a chat, maybe I’ll invite him for tea next time. Get a few pictures with him.” Y/n spoke angrily as she looked back at the man and Wednesday, as she stomps up the stairs to accentuate her anger.

“Maybe it was one of your classmates.” The Sheriff said, looking around.

That was the final straw for Y/n who stopped dead in her tracks and spun around to face the man, “Okay what the hell are you doing here then? Because it clearly isn’t to gather any leads, piss poor detective work to already have a bias.” “I don’t care, because I’ve got three other bodies in the morgue right now. Hikers, just ripped apart in the woods.” Sheriff says.

Weems interrupts, “The mayor said those were bear attacks.” “Yeah well the mayor and I disagree on that.” The sheriff responds.

Weems has one hand on her hip and the other leaning against the railing, “So you automatically assume that it’s a Nevermore student? Even when there’s no evidence that a crime has even been committed.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot, you only teach the good outcasts here. Right?” Sheriff accuses.

Weems sighs as cocks her head at him giving him a look, and her energy changes. They make their way to her office. The older lady sits down behind her desk. Wednesday and Y/n stand in front of it.

“My guess is that Rowan ran away. State troopers have put out an alert and I’ve contacted his family. They haven’t heard from him either.” “Dead people are notoriously bad at returning calls.” Wednesday retorts.

Y/n stifles a laugh at her comment as the Sheriff sits down in one of the chairs.

“What were you two doing out in the woods with him, Ms Addams, L/n?” The two girls turn to face the man speaking.

“We heard a noise in the forest, and I went to investigate. I told Y/n to stay back, but she insisted I don’t go alone. That’s when we stumbled upon the attack.” Wednesday lies through her teeth.

“Then what happened?” The sheriff asks.

Wednesday continues her narrative , “Then we ran into Y/n’s roommate, Bianca Barclay. I told her to go get help. Next thing I remember, I was waking up in my dorm.”

“And just to be clear, this monster wasn’t a bear attack? Or some other wild animal?” His tone isn’t intrigue, it's condescending.

“I’ve hibernated with grizzlies,” Wednesday states,”I know the difference.”

Y/n wants to question this, but knows it's not the time nor place. Wednesday Addams was a mystery to all, and an open book to none. And Y/n wanted nothing more than to know more about the girl in all black.

“Is this all true, Ms L/n?” Sheriff asks, turning to face Y/n.

“All I remember is Rowan’s mangled body and then everything is blank after that.” Y/n corroborates Wednesday's version of events.

“There you have it Sheriff, I think the girls are done now.” Weems speaks as she stands up.

“Actually, I would like to speak to Sheriff Galpin,” One of Wednesday’s eyebrow quirks, and if Y/n hadn’t been watching her so intensely she would have missed it, “Alone.”

“I’m not sure I can allow that.” Weems says.

“I’m sure I could take her down to the station, and get a formal statement. But I’ll also need Y/n’s.” Galpin smirks for a millisecond, “Yeah let’s go.”

“Fine, you have five minutes. And everything is off the record.” Weems says, walking from her desk, “Play nice, or I will call the mayor.” She threatens and leaves the room.

Y/n leans against the desk as the two argue.

The door opens, “Sheriff, you’re gonna want to see this.” It opens further and there is Rowan, in the same outfit he was wearing last night. The same zip up that was soaked in his blood last night is suddenly void of any grime. The button up that had been torn apart, whole again. But more importantly, Rowan was alive unlike how the two had left him the night prior.

“No, that’s fucking absurd. No, absolutely not.” Y/n says and leaves the room, not believing her eyes.

Y/n makes her way outside to where she knew Enid was, the pair hadn’t spoken much this week. Then Y/n spots Wednesday in one of the corridors.

“Hey Wednesday, wanna come see Enid with me? Looks like you could use some sunshine and fresh air.” Y/n says in a joking manner.

Wednesday said nothing as she began walking alongside Y/n. Before they step outside, Y/n pulls her sunglasses from her bag and puts them on her eyes. They were unlike the other vampires, they were unique and possibly designers. But Wednesday didn’t know the brand.

“Ladies, come on! Let’s work on those teeth.” Enid’s cheery voice was comforting for Y/n to hear, “More scowl. This kitty is taking no prisoners. If Bianca Barclay wins again this year, I will literally scratch my own eyes out!”

“I would pay money to see that.” Wednesday says, and Enid turns around with a hop and squeals.

“Howdy, roomie! I’m so glad you decided to stay.” Enid smiles.

Wednesday’s arms are crossed firmly around her middle, “I thought you wanted your single room back.”

“Full disclosure, I don’t like living solo. Why do you think Y/n’s in our room all the time? And Thing gives a killer neck massage.” Enid confesses, “So why the change of heart?”

“I refuse to play the role of a pawn in someone else’s corrupt game.”

“You mean Rowan?” Enid says, her cheery tone never ceasing.

“We witnessed his murder, Enid.” Y/n responds.

“It’s just, we all saw him this morning.” Enid explains, “Very much, like, not dead.”

“I know.” Wednesday says, uncrossing her arms, “Which leads me to believe I’ve been losing my mind.” She shrugs her shoulders and gives a defeated look, “It’s not nearly as fun as I had anticipated.”

“Shared delusions, they get you, I’m telling ya.” Y/n adds.

“You are Nevermore’s gossip queen, what’s Rowan’s story?” Wednesday asks.

“Other than being a weird loner? Uh, no offense.” Enid quickly adds.

“None taken.” Wednesday responds, the tiniest smile pulls at her lips for a moment.

“Xavier Thorpe’s his roommate, you know if you had a cell phone you could just text him and ask him. Why didn’t you ask Y/n?” Enid turns to yell at Yoko before either could answer, “Flare those whiskers! The Poe Cup droops for no one.”

Y/n laughs at Enid’s dramatics.

“What is the Poe Cup anyway?” Wednesday asks.

“Only my entire reason for living right now.” Enid breathes out, “Part canoe race, part foot race, no rules. Each canoe has to pick an Edgar Allan Poe short story for inspiration. You could grab a brush. Ms Thorhill’s just ordered pizza, want to take a stab at being social?"

“I do like stabbing.” Wednesday responds and looks around, “The social part, not so much. Besides, it will cut into my writing time.”

“No worries, as long as you’re with Y/n on the lakeside cheering us to victory on race day!” Enid exclaims.

Wednesday says nothing, “Or you can just glare uncomfortably, whatever works for you.” Y/n turns to Wednesday and gives her a playful wink.

The girl dressed in all black turns without a word and goes back inside, presumably to her dorm.

After a bit Y/n realizes she left her favorite top in Enid’s room and decides that she immediately needs it.

“Right now?” Enid asks.

“Yes Enid, right now. Or else I will forget about it or even worse, I won’t be able to focus on anything except for my top and I will mess up your canoe.” Y/n explains, really she was just getting bored and the sun began to irritate the exposed skin of her legs. But she did have a shirt that was left in Enid’s room.

“Okay, yes go.” Enid instructs, sending the vampire on her merry way.

When she arrives at Enid and Wednesday's dorm she can hear the distinct tapping of Wednesday on the typewriter. The girl doesn’t give Y/n a glance or even stop her typing when she enters.

Y/n pays no mind to her or Thing as she goes to look for her shirt. Until suddenly the typing stops and Wednesday stands up from her desk.

“Come with me, we need to go find Rowan.” Wednesday demands, and Y/n was too afraid to ask what for or to deny her. She simply stood from where she was sitting on the floor, and followed Wednesday.

After searching the school for a good hour, Y/n spoke up, “Maybe we should go ask Weems…”

Quickly the pair make their way to Weems' office for the second time that day.

“We need to speak with Rowan, and we can’t find him.” Wednesday had been speaking for both of them a lot lately Y/n notes.

“It won’t be possible, I’m afraid. He’s been expelled.” Weems doesn’t look up from her laptop.

“For what?” Y/n asks.

“Never you mind. He’ll be on the first train out this afternoon. What were you doing out in the woods with him in the first place?” Weems finally looks up from her work.

“We told you already.” Wednesday regurgitates the same lie from this morning, “We heard a noise, I went to investigate. And Y/n didn’t want me going alone.”

Weems scoffs, “That excuse might have placated the sheriff, but you can’t fool me. You had a psychic vision, didn’t you?”

Wednesday’s gaze shifts, “I realized you might be having them when we passed by the accident, and you knew that poor farmer had broken his neck. Your mother started having visions around your age. They were notoriously unreliable, and dangerous. I remember at first, she thought she might be losing her mind. Have you spoken to her about them? Clearly the person withholding information here is you.”

“May I go now?” Wednesday asks.

Y/n thinks that Wednesday may be feeling uncomfortable with what Weems has said, but Wednesday is harder to read than most people. She keeps her cards close to her.

“Not until you’ve picked your extracurricular activity. We want our students to be well rounded.” Weems attitude takes a whirlwind change.

“I’d prefer to remain sharp-edged.” Wednesday crosses her arms.

“I took the liberty of putting together a list of clubs that have openings.” Weems slides a list on the desk.

“How thoughtful.” Wednesday looks down.

“You need to have picked one by the end of the day. I’ll be keeping my eye on you, no doubt you’ll find something that tickles your fancy.” Weems says.

“The last person who tickled me lost a finger.” Wednesday said, moving to pick up the list.

The two quickly leave the room to where Thing is waiting for them.

“Weems is clearly trying to keep tabs on me. Keep an eye on Rowan.” Wednesday speaks to the appendage, “Don’t let your fingers out of his sight.”

The three part ways, Thing going to Rowan, Wednesday to find an extracurricular to check out, and Y/n to go to the bee hive with Eugene.

“Where have you been?” Eugene asks as Y/n enters the little shack.

“I was busy,” Y/n responds, putting on the hat and net that keeps the bees from her face. She never wore the full suit, claiming that the bees wouldn’t hurt her as long as she didn’t harm them.

Y/n worked in the shed and glanced out the window to see a figure Y/n had begun to know all too well made its way towards them.

“Are you interested in the ancient art of beekeeping?” Eugene asks Wednesday, who turns around to face the boy.

“Eugene, Eugene Ottinger.” He sticks out a gloved hand, “Founder and president of the Nevermore’s Hummers.”

Wednesday shook his hand, “Wednesday, Wednesday Addams. Am I late or is it only you?”

“Y/n L/n is in the shed, but it’s only the two of us. The hive life isn’t for everyone.” Eugene responded, “Most kids are afraid of venomous insects. Are you willing to feel the sting?”

Eugene leads Wednesday into the shed to get her a suit.

“Y/n, this is Wednesday Addams.” Eugene introduced.

Y/n smiled coyly, “So I’ve heard, we keep meeting.”

“Great.” Eugene says, handing Wednesday a suit and leaving the shack.

The white is a stark contrast to Wednesday’s usual attire, “Why don’t you wear the suit?” Wednesday asks.

“They won’t sting you as long as you don’t give them reason to. I’m not afraid of them.” Y/n says, fond of the bees.

Wednesday opens the door and goes back outside to where Eugene waits, as he talks she inspects the gloves.

“Bees have been producing honey in the same way for a hundred-fifty million years. They’re nature's perfect community. All working together to achieve a common goal.” Eugene goes on about bee facts.

Y/n spots Thing off to the side between two hives, she didn’t know what he was trying to tell Wednesday but she assumed it was important. Y/n’s gaze shifts to Eugene before Wednesday wanders off.

“Nothing personal buddy, she disappears a lot.” Y/n reassures the boy as he sighs defeated.

The next day during Ms Thornhill’s Wednesday is scolding Thing who was hidden behind a plant. Enid gossiped about this or that, while Y/n was in her own little world.

“I see you finally made a friend.” BIanca teases Wednesday, “Even if it is a plant.”

“I go for quality over quantity.” Wednesday retorts, causing Bianca to roll her eyes and sit down.

Y/n sat in her usual seat, only this time Enid didn’t sit next to her. Wednesday did, Enid shrugged and sat next to Yoko.

“Wednesday, we are thrilled to have you join us on our journey into the world of carnivorous plants. Now,” Ms Thornhill turned to address the class, “who can tell us the name of this beauty?”

“Dendrophylax lindenii.” Wednesday responds without a second thought.

“Other known as a ghost orchid.” Bianca says.

“First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1854.” Wednesday recites from memory.

“Wednesday, perhaps you can identify the ghost orchid’s greatest qualities.” Ms Thornhill suggested.

“Resilience and adaptability.” She says, “It’s able to thrive in even the most hostile environments.”

“But its mere presence can change the ecosystem,” Bianca butts in, “causing the established plants to reject it.”

Wednesday responds, “Usually because the native species is allowed to thrive, unchecked.”

Y/n can’t help but wonder if this was actually about plants as she stared at Wednesday’s side profile. The girl beside her was textbook weird, but she was undeniably beautiful, something about her drew Y/n in.

“Nothing a weed wacker couldn’t fix.” Wednesday continues.

“You can most certainly try.” Bianca says in a faux sweet tone.

“This is definitely not about flowers.” Y/n says to no one in particular, and changes her focus to her notebook.

For the remainder of the lesson, she doodles in the margins of her notebook paper. She even doodles a small cat on Wednesday’s paper, who feels an unsettling fondness for the girl sitting beside her.

Y/n sat on the grass next to Enid as she painted on the canoe, Wednesday approached the pair.

“I have to go back to the woods. But Weems has been circling me like a vulture circling a carcass.” Wednesday says, standing over Y/n, addressing Enid.

“And you want to return to the scene of a crime that didn't happen? Enid asks, not looking away from her artwork.

“I have beekeeping club this afternoon, I need you as a decoy.” Wednesday explains.

“Sorry, two strikes.” Enid scrunches up her nose, “I’m busy, and bees totally creep me out.”

“Why don’t you ask Thing?” Y/n asks, tilting her head to look at Wednesday who looks down at her.

“Oh you can’t because he’s mad at you.” Enid says before Wednesday can speak.

“Why’s he mad? He’s the one who screwed up with Rowan.” Wednesday questions.

“All I know is that we spent an hour giving each other manis, and he really opened up. He feels like you don’t respect him as a person.” Enid explains.

“Well technically, he is only a hand.” Wednesday looks at Enid.

“Wednesday!” Y/n scolds from the ground.

“He’s your family! And he would do anything for you. Go apologize and I’ll reconsider helping you.” Enid suggests as Wednesday walks off to, presumably, find the appendage.

“You gave Thing a mani, but not me?” Y/n suddenly asked.

“We talked about you too, you have grown very fond of Wednesday Addams.” Enid says.

“What?” Y/n asks, feigning confusion.

“You have a crush on Wednesday.” Enid repeats in a sing-songy voice.

“Shut up, I will drain you of all of your blood.” Y/n threatens.

Y/n didn’t know what about Wednesday drew her in so much, maybe it was her dark eyes, or the way she said whatever was on her mind not caring about what others thought. What she didn’t know was that Wednesday was having an internal battle of her own about the same feelings.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday x reader #midnights wip fics #midnights fics #mine #wednesday addams x fem reader #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #wednesday imagines #wednesday show

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afewproblems · 7 months

Text

Season Two Halloween AU Part Eight

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six Part Seven

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

As always, thank you thank you to the lovely Jess @strangersteddierthings for letting me brainstorm and send spoilers!

***

Eddie pulls gently on the strap of Dustin's safety goggles, trying as much as he can not to snag his curls in the process.

Almost everyone is decked out in their make-shift protective gear, with bandanas over their mouths, swim goggles --hell, even an old diving mask that Lucas found in the Byers basement. Mike won the painters mask, even though it's slightly too big on his little face.

When Eddie asks if all of this is really necessary, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike all glare ferociously at him before shouting over top of one another about how the Upside Down is toxic and that Will had been lucky last year, and to stop being an idiot.

Eddie looks to Max who shrugs and pulls down her own swimming goggles over her eyes.

"Don't look at me, I'm new here remember?" She mutters, walking towards the pile of various items the kids brought with them. She grabs a pair of rubber gloves and tosses them at Eddie who manages to catch one while the other falls limply into the dirt.

"They went in full body suits last year, on oxygen, to save Will," Dustin adds, his voice slightly muffled by the floral scarf wrapped around his face, "as little exposed skin as you can, it isn't safe".

Eddie can't help but picture the last Sci-Fi pulp story he read in a zine with government conspiracies and men in yellow suits investigating supposed 'crash sites' in the desert.

He shivers and pulls his own black bandana from his back pocket to put on.

Steve hasn't moved since they parked and hauled everything out of the van for their descent.

He sits in the sliding side door of the van with his head between his knees and the bat between his hands. Steve had insisted on coming with them, despite the fact that he'd only just managed to stop vomiting about five minutes ago and the nausea is still kicking his ass.

Stubborn idiot.

Eddie shakes his head as he turns back to Dustin to find the kid has wandered closer, standing right beside him now.

"He's dating Nancy," Dustin says quietly, tipping his head towards Steve as surreptitiously as he can.

Eddie freezes at the words and tries to keep his face blank in the way he's seen Steve do, he's not sure he's managed it but the way Dustin rolls his eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to respond, with what he isn't sure of given the chorus of shitshitshitshitshit playing on a loop in his head.

Dustin beats him to it.

"But Mike told me they've been fighting lately, if it helps?"

Eddie just stares, his mind running a mile a minute, his eyes search Dustin's face for any hint of malice or disgust. But there's nothing.

"You don't…care?" Eddie says slowly, softly, he looks around to the other kids to see if anyone else is listening.

They all continue to argue and bicker over the equipment except for Max who has walked over to Steve to hand him a pair of rubber gloves. She leans down and tilts her head to look at Steve who still hasn't moved from his position in the van door.

Dustin shrugs, "why should I? I know what people say about it, but you protected us, you stayed," he looks at Eddie with fierce blue eyes, "bullies talk a lot of shit about other people for what they like".

"And you're not bad Eddie, you're good, just like everyone here".

Eddie blinks trying to ignore the tightness in his chest at the words and the sting behind his eyes.

'You're a good kid Ed, that's all that matters,' Wayne had told him the day he came out. 'And I'll love you no matter what'.

So that was at least two people who didn't think he was the town 'freak' -- but a stubborn image of Steve's expression that night by the pool comes to mind as he vehemently argued against being scared of Eddie during the now infamous Halloween party.

Three people then.

"If it helps, he wouldn't shut up about Dallas after he and Nance watched the Outsiders last year so," Dustin shrugs again, this time with the slightest teasing grin.

Eddie is overcome with such a strong feeling of fondness for the kid that he reaches out and pulls Dustin into a one armed hug that's really more of a headlock than anything else. Eddie takes off Dustin's hat to ruffle his hair before putting it back on and tugging it down over the kids eyes, he snorts at the squawk that Dustin makes in response.

"Dallas huh?" he says with a grin before clearing his throat, "I've always been more partial to a pretty boy myself".

He laughs as Dustin pushes him off muttering under his breath, "everyone's obsessed with relationships," which only makes Eddie laugh harder.

Maybe it's the hysteria of the situation, maybe it's the exhaustion loosely wrapping itself around his hands, but in this moment Eddie lets himself push away why they are standing in the middle of this field in the pitch dark, and lets himself reach out for what was previously impossible.

He claps Dustin on the back and tips his head towards the rest of the party getting ready.

"How distracting can you be?" Eddie asks in a low conspiratorial voice.

Dustin frowns, his eyes dart from where Max is struggling to pull on a second blue rubber glove after getting the first one on to where Steve is finally managing to sit up in the van, pulling on the gloves Max left him with, and rolls his eyes again.

"Yeah, yeah, you get five minutes," Dustin drops his voice slightly, and if it's an imitation of Eddie barking orders at the kids earlier, it's pretty good actually.

Eddie huffs and sends Dustin a wink before turning on his heel and making his way to the van.

Steve has managed to finally sit up properly and in the moonlight it appears that the green caste to his face is also gone. He looks up as Eddie approaches, and sends him a wane smile.

"How you feeling?" Eddie says softly. He crouches down on the balls of his feet so he and Steve are at eye level and reaches out for his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. It's as though a dam has burst ever since he was able to gather Steve in his arms in the van, he can't stop reaching out for him.

"Like my head has a pulse," Steve answers after a moment, "kinda how it felt after Jon cleaned my clock last year, but worse".

He shrugs and gives Eddie a small smile that stretches his split lip until a small bead of red appears, Steve winces and swipes his hand over the cut, "I'm kinda hoping it doesn't become a yearly thing, you only get so many concussions ya know?"

No Eddie doesn’t know, but he was also never a jock, dodging elbows, or balls, or apparently monsters in the woods on the regular.

He looks back at the kids, only to see Dustin pointing at the watch on his wrist; even in the dark Eddie can read Dustin's expression.

Hurry up.

Eddie swallows roughly and turns back to Steve, who doesn't move his gaze quickly enough to hide his own stare.

The wistful pinch of Steve's brow is still there, plain as day, and it cements Eddie's decision.

He leans closer, close enough that his nose is nearly touching Steve's own.

"I need to tell you something, and I need you to let me get through it because we don't have a lot of time, okay?"

Steve blinks once, his wide hazel eyes search Eddie's face as he slowly nods, his mouth opens but Eddie reaches up and presses his palm to gently cover it.

"You caught me off guard before," he whispers quickly, before Steve can move the hand on his mouth, "when you told me about your Nonna".

He sees Steve's eyes go even wider and feels him freeze under his hand, but he has to keep going.

"And I thought, you couldn't possibly be saying what I thought you'd were saying, I couldn't--"

Eddie forces himself to meet Steve's gaze this time, as though he could simply transfer his thoughts directly, save himself the embarrassment of trying to make the words come.

He takes a deep breath in, releasing it slowly through his nose.

"I couldn't let myself hope, not then".

"But when I thought you were dead on the floor, that Billy had broken you into a million pieces and we would never be able to put you back together again and I realized," Eddie moves his hand now, letting it travel along Steve's jaw, to the back of his head. He swipes his thumb along the crest of Steve's cheekbone and tries not to let the way the other man holds his breath deter him.

"That I might not get another chance to be that person your Nonna told you about, if I didn't tell you how I felt".

Steve blinks again and Eddie halts, letting go of Steve completely as he watches the wide hazel eyes grow shiny in the moonlight.

Oh fuck.

Steve's nose flares slightly with how rapidly he's breathing and his mouth opens and closes in quick succession as he seems to struggle to find the words to respond.

"I--"

"Steve! Eddie!" Mike calls out from behind them, "we are running out of time! Let's go!"

Eddie curses under his breath and whirls around; Mike stands at the edge of the cavern, his hands on his hips in a similar position to one Steve held earlier, the painter's mask pulled up to reveal the irritated frown on his face.

Dustin has his own face in his hand but looks up soon enough to offer Eddie a resigned shrug.

He catches Max watching the exchange with curious eyes, her face tilting between Eddie, Dustin, Mike, and Steve, but he can't think about that now.

Not with Steve pushing himself up from the van on unsteady legs, he brushes past Eddie, reaching up with a shaking hand to pinch his nose.

Eddie darts a hand out to catch Steve's elbow, halting his path.

Steve lets him.

Eddie takes a step closer, wracking his brain, trying to figure out what he could have said to make Steve so upset, had he read him wrong after all, had he overstepped somehow?

"Steve," he says softly, his grip on Steve's elbow is loose but steady as he pulls him closer.

Steve doesn't turn to look at Eddie but he doesn't move away either.

"What the hell is the hold up assholes!" Mike barks out again and Eddie lets himself throw a dirty glare at the kid, which Mike merely rolls his eyes at.

The attitude on these kids.

Mike does eventually turn, pulled by Dustin, back to the rope that Lucas is securing to the nearby fencepost, hopefully distracted for long enough to let Eddie figure this out.

But before he can say anything, Steve is pulling himself away from the grip on his elbow, “Eddie--”

"Please,” the word falls out of his mouth, desperate, louder than he wants, “please Steve, just, promise me we'll talk”.

Steve turns his face slightly, just enough that Eddie knows he sees him.

His eyes are no longer wet, but still red rimmed, his nose slightly pink, the same way he looked that night at the halloween party sitting on that rock in the dark.

“Okay,” Steve whispers into the night air, quickly and quietly before he presses forward.

Eddie lets him go, his empty hand drops limply at his side as he watches Steve make his way back to the kids. He snatches an unused pair of goggles from the nearly empty pile on the ground and checks the post where Lucas had secured the rope.

Eddie watches from the sidelines as Steve seamlessly moves back into Babysitter mode, and while some part of Eddie is relieved at this, he can’t help but miss the way it felt to hold Steve, to put him back together again.

Even if it was just for a moment.

Part Nine Now Up!

Tag List:

@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @steveshairspray @hellfireone @eddielives1986 @sunswathe @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson @queenie-ofthe-void @rainbowsaw @sp0o0kylights @littlebluejane @hi-im-eff @phantypurple @just-ladyme @thoroughlycollected @justrandomfandomstm @swimmingbirdrunningrock @finntheehumaneater @dynamic-powerm@nightmareglitter @genderless-spoon @zaddipax @thebiblesays @pyrohonk @emly03 @geekymagicalpotato @sidebarre @lemon-astra @cipounette @discreetapple @starlitlakes @saphhicwitchbitch @marvel-ous-m @lingeringmirth @honorarybrit81 @bookbinderbitch @finntheehumaneater @lololol-1234 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @monsterloverforhire @gaydrieeen @starlight-archer @homosexual-having-tea @devondespresso @rennnnon @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog

And a few people I think may be intersted!

@steddierthings @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @henderdads

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piratefishmama · 11 months

Text

Forgiven not Forgotten | Part 6

Matchmaking would unfortunately have to wait. As much as the parents wanted to dive right in, meddle a little, be insufferable, it was well overdue after all, there were more pressing concerns. Eddie was awake. He was awake, coherent, sure he’d been initially a little loopy loo on the drugs, but he was able to answer questions, simple questions. Sort of.

“What year is it?”

“I mean, I thought it was 1986 but I seem to be missing a couple of years so, pretty sure it’s 1988 now. So much for graduating.”

“Who’s the president?”

“Man I dunno, how would I know? I just told you I’m missing a couple of years. Reagan? Is it still Reagan?”

“It’s still Reagan, Eds, election isn’t for another few months.”

“Thanks, Stevie.” Eddie turned back to the doctor “Reagan then.”

“Don’t help the patient, Mr Harrington.” Steve mouthed a sorry but didn’t actually look sorry. Eddie just smiled at him. A conspiratorial little grin shared between them, like an inside joke they’d never had the moment to create. It continued on like that for a good half an hour, boring step by step questions to ascertain just how much of Eddie’s memory was simply not there.

It turned out, he remembered nothing from after he took his seemingly last breath, to waking up in that room. Or at least that was what he was sticking to. Until the doctors left and everyone decided to leave Steve on his own in that room with him. The Harringtons gently guiding Dustin out as well, offering to get him something from the vending machines as their sandwiches had been distributed already to those sitting in with Max, Will, and Eleven via Robin.

Stinson had already collected the documents and was likely off to do whatever she had to do to fulfil her promises.

“I do remember some stuff.” Eddie finally broke the silence that seemed to fall over them the second everyone left the room. Steve’s eyes shot to him, wide, fearful? Why was he afraid? He held up a hand quickly, then got up out of his chair. Eddie watched in confused silence as Steve rummaged around the room, checking around things, the flowers people had left, the plant in the corner of the room, the TV that hadn’t been turned on, each of the little machines, he even checked the lights, and only when apparently satisfied, his search coming up empty-handed, did he finally turn back to Eddie.

“What do you remember, Eddie?”

“Nothing out here I guess.” He wasn’t going to ask why Steve ransacked the room, it didn’t really matter. “The real world I mean. It was like… a void. This big, dark space. It felt like I was stuck in limbo, but I could like… make stuff appear if I thought about it hard enough.” Steve’s continued silence only prompted him to talk more “like—like my bedroom back at the trailer? I could make that appear, everything in it, crystal clear, I could use stuff in it like my guitar, or my yo-yo! I could make the picnic table behind the school appear, I could even make Red’s living room appear if I thought about it hard enough… it was like… like I was stuck in my own brain or something, it was only places I’d been too. Time didn’t really… move there, y’know? I thought I’d only been gone a few days.”

Steve was looking down at the floor, brows furrowed, eyes flicking as if searching for answers in his own mind, working through theory after theory in silence. “Was it just you in there?”

“Mhm yeah, I mean… sorta. I think so. I mean, the mirror in my room always freaked me out a little bit but… I dunno, it was me just—”

“Not you.”

“Yeah. How’d you—"

“Don’t talk about this. At all, with anyone else. Okay? Nobody else. Not even the kids. This cannot leave this room, alright?” Eddie’s eyes flicked to the door, before he nodded “you stick to your story, you don’t remember anything. Nothing. You got ate, you woke up here. Nothing in between. Not the void. Nothing. That’s the story you stick to. Got it?”

“…Steve… what happened?” Steve sat back down beside his bed.

“Nothing good, nothing good happened these past two years okay? But as long as you don’t remember, and with what we know, I don’t think there’s anything out there that could jog that memory, you’ll be fine.” Eddie let his eyes drop to his lap, fingers fiddling with the blankets, full of nervous, uncertain energy. He was missing something. He was missing a lot of somethings, but Steve was right. It wasn’t like there was a fog in his mind where memories should have been, he remembered dying, the void, and then waking up. Nothing was missing there. He didn’t even feel like he was missing something. “I’m not going to tell you what happened, Eddie so don’t ask. There are things that you don’t need to know, things that you wouldn’t want to know. Just be grateful that you don’t remember them, and that you’re here, alright?”

“…I still don’t know how I’m here.”

“You don’t need to, just… be glad you are. We all are.”

“…All of you?”

“All of us, Munson.”

They fell into silence again, not uncomfortable, Steve seemed content where he was, a little troubled maybe, there were lines on his face that weren’t there before, stress and worry having etched permanent lines into his skin the past two years, but he was content. “Steve I—”

The door bursting open cut off anything Eddie would have said, he wasn’t even sure what he was going to say, he didn't have a plan but Steve was staying so he had to say something even if it would have been dumb... so he was sort of glad it happened.

He was glad Robin burst in and immediately took to reaching for the TV with a “you have to see this shit.” As her explanation as a news channel, the screen split between two women quickly came into view. one in a news studio, one backed by a horrorscape the people in the room unfortunately recognised.

“—he closest we’ve been allowed to get to Hawkins Indiana in the last two years, after a 7.4 magnitude earthquake rocked this quaint town 80 miles outside of Indianapolis. This town, once struck by tragedy, after tragedy, now lays desolate, a wasteland, and although the government remains tight lipped as to the exact cause of the decay which has steadily overcome this town for the last two years, government operatives who have been slowly picking through the wreckage of this disaster looking for more survivors, have assured us that it is a contained and isolated incident.”

“And this decay… I’m sure towns nearby will be worried, it can’t spread further, right?” The anchor prompted.

“No Judy, we have been assured that, while it remains classified, the cause has been located, and destroyed by a combined herculean effort from both civilian, and government forces.”

“Is there any further information on the murders that took place just before this disaster struck? If you recall some were claiming these disasters were tied to satanism and caused by ritualistic sacrifices at work?”

“Unfortunately the losses sustained in this catastrophe include the majority of the police force investigating this heinous crime, however our sources have revealed the true identity of the perpetrator, to be none other than a Mr Henry Creel, brought to justice by the very man he framed for the murders of Chrissy Cunningham, Patrick McKinney, Fredrick Benson, and the attempted murder of Maxine Mayfield. Eyewitnesses have come forward to reveal Edward Munson was seen alongside several other civilians who will remain nameless, heroically subduing the man in his attempt to flee a second thankfully unsuccessful attempt on miss Mayfields life. His reign of terror over this small town, finally ended by the very people he tormented.”

“I have here that Henry Creel was presumed deceased several years ago, is that correct?”

It was so scripted, everything about it, nothing felt real but… they were at least pinning it on the actual guilty party.

Creel’s human face revealed on screen in between the two video feeds, a blurry ID photo with no discernible origin used as the picture. It disappeared again shortly after, the two feeds growing larger once more to fill the split screen.

“Yes. Perhaps that is what gave him the freedom to enact this terrible crime without suspicion. He was being held in a private psychiatric facility which cares for mentally traumatised youths, pronounced deceased to protect him from association with his father, Victor Creel. He escaped spring of '86 under the name Peter Ballard, and immediately took to live up to his fathers’ terrible legacy.”

“And what can you tell us about the survivors of this catastrophe?”

“Once a population of just under 15,000, survivors have been spread across just four hospitals in Roane County. The death toll…” the reporter appeared to breathe, she looked down for a moment, clearly emotional “unfathomable. This will surely go down in history as one of the worst natural disasters The United States has ever experienced.”

“Thank you, Harriet.” The second feed was cut, the anchor taking up the entirety of the screen once more. “Government officials have stated that the names and current locations of identified survivors will be made available at this free to call automated line.” A number flashed up on the screen. It stayed there for just long enough to write it down “it will be shown over the course of the following weeks until all survivors are claimed by family or friends.”

The camera switched to another anchor, a man. “In lighter news, Washin—” Robin turned off the TV. Screw lighter news.

Steve stared at the now blank screen, mouth hanging open, “Did they just—”

“Pin the blame on the actual guy who did it while giving Eddie the credit for taking his ass down? Haha, yeah. Stinson didn’t fuck around.”

“Holy shit. That was like, an hour. Maximum.”

“Stinson, didn’t fuck around. Also your parents have been calling estate agents in Bloomington.”

“Huh?”

Eddie needed a nap.

Part 8

#PirateWrites #ForgivenNotForgottenFiclet #Steddie #Post!S5 #Mentions of Kas Eddie #Hurt/Comfort #Miscommunication

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the-darklings · 2 years

Text

──𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 [𝐕.]

summary: "You look lonely, Dream."

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

wc: 3.5k+

warnings: dare I say it... soft, Dream is still Dream ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

notes: you're all actually insane. thank you so much for your support & I love you. enjoy perhaps the happiest chapter in the story : )

part one | series masterlist | ao3 |

PART FIVE: YEAR 522

“Enjoying yourself?”

You nudge the book from over your face, squinting at the tall figure looming over you. “I was till about two seconds ago.”

Your retort is lost in a sleepy yawn as you cover your mouth.

Corinthian’s tall frame casts a steep, hard-edged shadow over your body. He doesn’t move. Sighing, you unhook your legs to sit up, blinking up at him. “Where were you? I haven’t seen you in two days.”

“Performing my duty,” he replies smoothly, mockingly bowing. “As our benevolent ruler has intended. Even I get tonight off.”

“Right. Good dreams for everyone.”

Dreamfall is tonight. The inhabitants that call this realm their home—nightmares and dreams alike—have been prepping for the celebration since light first broke over the land.

Corinthian steps under the whistling willow, visibly amused by how the branches seemingly hiss whenever he draws too near. He sits down against the trunk without forewarning, grabbing your ankles resting in the shade. He lifts your legs before dropping them over his lap unceremoniously. His hat drops beside him, and you huff at his gall. Your shoe nudges his deliberately—a half kick—your sweet smile making an equally poisonous smile curl his mouth.

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” he drawls insincerely.

Rolling your eyes, you leaf through the book you were reading before your impromptu nap.

“Will you be at the celebration?” you inquire casually, not looking his way.

The nightmare clicks his tongue. “No.”

Your stare skims over the edge of your hardcover, “Why not?”

A thin, polished blade appears in his hand, looping between his long fingers. He seems too thoughtful for it to not spell trouble. “Taking a page from your book and running from things.”

This time your kick lands intentionally against his ankle. Corinthian doesn't react to it. Lately, he's been convinced you're running from things that have transpired in your extended life. It's true to an extent. You're not idiotic enough to convince yourself otherwise. Kernel of truth or otherwise, you would rather talk about anything else.

This is the longest you’ve ever stayed at the Dreaming in a single stretch. Almost a year. But this time is different. You can’t help but get a sense others don’t want you to leave. They’re concerned about you. After your last mishap in the waking world, no one can blame them, certainly not you. You were in terrible shape. If anything, you had forgotten how sweet it is: to be wanted and cared for, even if few ever express it through traditional means.

“Not this again,” you groan. “You don’t get it.”

"Oh, but I do." Corinthian's head tips to the side, facing away from you. You haven't noticed the miniature wooden piece in his other hand until his blade starts scoring through the wood. "You don't want to consider your existence. So instead, you shove everything happening to you to the side in some vain hope that it won't hurt you if you wait long enough. Tsk, tsk."

Metal scrapes on wood again; louder, with more force, small wooden shavings scattering near your feet. Corinthian turns to face you again, leaning closer, your distorted reflection visible in his shades. “But memories have teeth, Wanderer,” he continues playfully. “They always come back to bite.”

You offer him a flat, unamused stare. “Trying to freak me out? Or just being purposely annoying?”

He grins brightly, all teeth visible, one side of his mouth crooking slightly further than the other. “I’m a nightmare, darling. It’s in the job description.”

Rolling your eyes, you lift your book back over your face, his words swimming in your head.

“Annoying, it is.”

Silence blankets the clearing for a while. Miniature daisies curl around your palm where it rests on the warm ground. It doesn’t escape your heed that everything in Fiddler’s Green shrinks away from Corinthian. Everyone, everywhere, shrinks away from him. Even amongst other nightmares, he has distinct energy that separates him from the rest; bold, defiant, and destructive.

Frowning, you drop the book back over your chest, gazing up at him. Corinthian’s head rests slanted to one side, focused entirely on his work. You’ve seen him partake in woodcraft often in recent years, but only ever in private. It settles him. This way, he manages to keep his mind and hands busy. During instances like these, away from everything, Corinthian appears almost human. As if whatever cruelty he indulges in so often takes a rest during these times.

“Come with me to the celebration,” you say abruptly. “It won’t kill you to be nice for a change.”

The nightmare pauses mid-scratch. Corinthian carefully considers his handiwork, blowing away the wood dust with deliberate slowness. “I’m very nice,” he retorts. “See.”

He throws the object at you. You scramble, the wooden figurine almost hitting you in the chest. Shooting him a glare, you roll the smooth wood in your hand. It’s warm to the touch.

Miniature Corinthian stares back at you. With a gleeful grin stretched wide, glasses on, and a wooden hat over the nightmare’s head. The details are immaculate. Lovely. Somehow the thought he’s created this from nothing brings a smile to your face. So, not just a nightmare, huh?

You offer the nightmare a toothy, teasing grin. “He’s cute. Could use some friends, though.”

You toss it back at him. Unlike you, Corinthian catches the figurine smoothly, twisting it between his digits with a considerate hum.

“Friends.” There’s an abrasive edge to the way he articulates the word. “What a thought. Catch.”

You’re ready this time, but at no point did you catch him taking out a second figurine. Your mouth parts, speechless.

“This is…”

It's you. Your likeness has been shrunk to fit inside your hand—a tight knot forms in your throat. You've never had someone do something like this for you. The curse repeatedly destroys any traces of you. Fires, floods, diseases, wars. You've never been allowed to exist. Not in any significant way, anyway. But this is special—proof, as good as any, that you're real.

Wordlessly, you sit up, reaching over to hand him back the figurine.

“What?” he bites out. “Don't you like it?”

You want to smile at the prickly offence in his voice.

“I love it,” you insist. You nimbly grab the figurine Corinthian made of himself and shove it in your pocket, wiggling your brows. “But you hold onto mine, and I’ll hold onto yours. That’s what friends would do.”

You plop down on the ground, stretching your legs more comfortably over his lip. Corinthian doesn’t stir. Time glides leisurely, weaving a tapestry of tranquillity: you read, Corinthian whittles a new piece. When you’re out there in the universe, it’s memories like this one you armour yourself with.

“Can I ask you something?”

Corinthian doesn’t pause in his work. “You just did.”

You lift onto one elbow. “Why do you wear your glasses around me? You know your eyes don’t scare me.”

Even the mini replica of him has glasses on. Is he worried they make you uncomfortable? After five hundred years, few things can unsettle you anymore.

“I do. But I wasn’t born. I was made.” There’s weight to how he phrases it. Purposeful, premeditated. “The first time I became aware of my existence, I saw two things. Him, Dream of the Endless, my creator, and… you. The only one who never flinched away. Funny that.”

You lift a curious brow. “Funny how?”

A slight, mean grin edges Corinthian’s mouth. “Surely you’ve noticed? How many others around here look like me? Like you?”

Wind rustles your clothes, wrapping around your wrists and shoulders. Maybe it’s Fiddler Green’s approach in discouraging you from this conversation. But you’re not leaving. And you understand what the nightmare is trying to convey, what he’s suggesting between the lines.

That on some level—subconscious or otherwise—Dream crafted Corinthian in your image. The parallels are too significant. Your shared human attributes. A cursed human. A nightmare. Differing forms of misery. Forever.

You witnessed Corinthian's creation. He's been special to you ever since. Those jagged teeth for eyes or his corrupt nature never bothered you. At least not as much as others believed it should.

“Corinthian—”

“Hey kid, there you are,” a voice grouses through the clearing, striding hurriedly in your direction. “Geez. Do you have any idea how hard it is to track you down? Oh. Corinthian.”

Merv freezes the second the nightmare comes into view; branches and your body have kept him mostly from sight until now.

Clearing your throat, you raise your hand in a casual wave. “Hey, Merv.”

The pumpkin head balances on his heels, awkwardly looking around the clearing. “Uh, the big boss wants you back at the castle, kid,” the caretaker informs, pointing his thumb behind him. Back in the castle’s direction. “You’re the honoured guest tonight, so….”

Dream must be otherwise occupied if he didn’t come to collect you himself, considering he can pin your down in a mere second usually.

“Better run along,” Corinthian shoos, leaning back to get more comfortable. His hands are empty in his lap, and it doesn’t escape your notice.

You won’t be able to continue your conversation now; that is clear. Admitting silent defeat, you struggle back onto your feet, stretching. You tuck the leather-bound book under your arm, turning to go.

“Oh, and Wanderer?” You pause at Corihtian’s deliberately sweet call. In your peripheral, Merv’s features spasm with irritation. The nightmare grins when you turn back towards him. “Happy Dreamfall. May the Fates smile upon you.”

The nightmare’s hands clasp together lightly in mock prayer, and you shake your head. Leave it to him to ridicule human religion.

“You can’t bribe three-in-one for good fortune, Cori,” you tell him, equally as saccharine. “It doesn't work like that.”

“The veil between Worlds will be thin tonight,” he says lightly, all innocence, shrouding something darker beneath. “You never know.”

“You should be back at the castle, enjoying the festivities.”

Waves lap against the shores of the Dreaming, all things unstirring and still around you. It’s so quiet here. Even your breaths echo. Dreams and nightmares alike are celebrating. Tonight, their home is the centre of the cosmos. It’s dense in the air—that thrumming power raw imagination holds, building and swelling with the inky waves. You sit perched in the grainy, dark sand, your fingers dug in deep. A light breeze stirs beside you, and the Dream King’s dark coat whispers over your hand.

On this night, his overcoat is edged with glimmering golden flame at the hem, flaring brighter with each faint movement. Dream of the Endless at his true, unsuppressed power. The universe is paying tribute to his domain tonight. Your skin tingles at the oozing power radiating from him in such close proximity.

However, the answer to his reserved observation comes quickly: “Couldn’t miss this view.”

Light beams swirl in a multicoloured kaleidoscope through the inky sky above. Falling, falling, falling; swimming and floating. Dreams; pulsing and spinning through the lonely, silent universe to here. Their anchor place.

Dreamfall. An apt name indeed. You’re dizzy, stunned, and incredibly humbled just witnessing it. Has any other human been given such privilege?

“How many do you think there are?” you whisper.

“Billions.”

Dream’s voice is a gentle, deep caress beside you. Self-possessed as if he’s counted each one himself.

Your palm drags mindlessly through the dark sands, each grain sifting through your fingers. Dream Lord jolts at your side, breathing out deeply, but you don’t pay his odd reaction mind, settling into pensive silence.

“Can you see them?” you ask thoughtfully. “Individually?”

“See them, feel them,” Dream lists passively. His fingers outstretch slowly, aiming towards the boundless black water—no, towards the skies, towards living tendrils of joy and light dancing through the dark. “I need not take them. For they are all… right… here.”

A glow kindles in his open palm, muted, soothing light. It flutters; quivering wings of a scared bird, then settles, safe in Dream’s protective hold, forming a small sphere. A gasp climbs up your throat, but you swallow it down, jumping to your feet and brushing the sand off your palms as you go.

A woman’s figure moves in the smokey image. She’s cradling a tiny bundle in her arms, her nose brushing over the child’s nose lovingly. It’s a nurturing, beautiful scene. One to leave your heart aching with longing.

“That’s incredible.” Stepping closer, you reach to touch the glowing globe, but stop yourself last moment. No. There’s no knowing what it would do to this woman if someone like you infringed on her dream. Your fingers shrink backwards, falling back to your side, each digit curling loosely. Dream tracks the gesture intently, his features drawn, so you force lightness into your following words, “For all the splendours in this universe, the Dreaming still manages to delight me the most.”

Dream Lord’s thumb skims over the glowing sphere. Then he extends his arm and blows gently. Like his sand, the dream skips and floats away, soon all but lost in the infinite array of colours.

“On this night, all living things dream,” he murmurs, concentrating solely on the descending lights. “And those dreams all traverse the universe to find their way home. To the Dreaming. What is it?”

You blink, realising you’ve been caught staring. “It’s just… over five hundred years,” you begin with a small smile. “I thought I’d have you all figured out by now, but you keep surprising me.”

Dream’s chin slants in a slight nod—regal even in these tiniest gestures. For a second, you wonder if you glimpse a sliver of amusement, but you blink, and it’s gone. “Likewise, Wanderer.”

You stand side by side, observing the vivid display. Dream’s features are, for once, relaxed. Softer than usual.

“You love them,” you choke out, startled by the piercing realisation. “Humanity. Then why…”

He’s gone incredibly still beside you. “Why what?”

Despite the direct prompt, your mouth remains closed. A thousand thoughts swarm through your head. All this time, you had it so wrong. Dream Lord’s stoic, often cold, mien. Even his duty he so uncompromising places first.

“You look lonely, Dream.”

It slips out before you can give it much thought, talk yourself out of voicing it. You’ve seen how Dream handles such observations. How any label or implication sets his jaw and ignites an ancient flame in him. There’s a reason you’ve never defined your relationship or so much as tried to. Equal parts fear how he would take it—and more painfully—the thought he would admit you mean nothing.

But Dream Lord is lonely. It’s written in every corner of his handsome, imposing face. Displayed naked and vulnerable in the way he watches these dreams. Such fierce devotion and a need to understand them, even when he struggles with the complexities of humanity.

“I was wrong about you,” you rush ahead in a whisper, noting the slow spreading coldness painting over his features. “I once thought you didn’t care at all. That you’re above it all. But now I realise just how much you do care.”

Chuckling under your breath, you mentally reabsorb the years you’ve spent by his side. With such crushing responsibility, Dream acts a certain way for a reason.

“But to have the collective consciousness of all living beings resting on your shoulders… I can’t imagine it.” You shake your head slowly from side to side. A small, sad smile pulls at your lips. “Your sense of duty to them is stronger than anything else. So it’s easier to not show anything. To anyone. Easier to lock it all down.”

Dream displays no outward reaction to your comments. His stare, however, burns into you, simmering with some hidden, potent emotion you can’t decipher no matter how hard you try. “You created this for them,” you conclude fondly, glancing around you. “The Dreaming is your gift to life, to humanity.”

Your heart inflates, stray breaths escaping your parted lips. The coldness and the prickly displeasure have waned from his demeanour with your speech, leaving Dream Lord mute at your side. His quietude fills in all the blanks, melancholic as it is.

There’s nothing more lonely than endless existence. You’re starting to learn as much intimately.

"I'm merely abiding by the Old Laws," he says lastly. "Anything is possible here. Let me show you."

Confusion must show on your face because Dream inclines his head towards the pier to your right.

“What are we doing?” you question, following after him.

The hem shimmers with Dream's steady gait, illuminating the path ahead. He stalls at the edge of the dock, water beyond stretching as far as the eye can see.

“Creating.”

“Uh, what?” Understanding sinks in at his deliberate glance. “Dream, I… I can’t dream. I can’t create anything here.”

“You need only to imagine it,” he says. “I will do the rest.”

He gestures for you to take his place. Your feet brush over the pier’s edge hesitantly. You don’t dare to look below. Those depths are treacherous to anyone who isn’t this realm’s creator.

“How will you know what’s in my head?”

Dream Lord’s presence whispers against your back. His fingers are light when they settle on your shoulder. “When it comes to dreams, I always know.”

You huff. “Fine, show off.”

“Clear your mind,” he instructs promptly. Not like you expected him to humour you. “Here, tonight, anything is possible.”

Keeping one hand on your shoulder, Dream raises his other arm, digits extended; relaxed, elegant. With a soft rasp from Dream Prince’s lips, power surges in the air, “We begin… with a spin.”

Dream Lord’s wrist rotates, everything in sight ceasing for a heartbeat, and then the world shifts.

Water plunges inwards, forming a whirlpool, cool spray hitting your skin with a powerful gust. A startled breath wooshes from your lungs, peering down at the ravine wide-eyed.

You’re not afraid, though. You’re mesmerised. “What should I do?”

He hears you even over the roaring water. “Change the world,” Dream whispers behind you. The way he says those words makes you believe you can do anything. “Imagine you are free. Visualise it. What do you see?”

“There’s a small island.” The vision springs to mind instantly, shining brightly in your mind’s eye. “Grass that grows there is the greenest there’s ever been. And… it tastes like sour apples.”

“Are you, by any chance, hungry, Wanderer?”

If you didn’t know any better, you would presume he’s teasing you.

A breathless laugh escapes you. “Shh. I’m focusing.”

The island trickles back into your thoughts, fragments stringing together.

“The sun that shines on the island is never too hot. The air is sweet and light. The flowers never wilt, trees never shed leaves, and the sky is an endless periwinkle shade. There’s always food and drinks. Books and games. An old friend waits at the beach to greet you with a patient smile whenever you arrive.”

And as you speak it, Dream’s fingers trail over the horizon, weaving and creating what you’re relating.

“A friend.” He sounds contemplative, with faint curiosity lacing his timber. “Not family or a lover?”

“Not everyone has family, and not everyone needs a lover,” you clarify. Each word wobbles, caught in a spell of his creation. “But everyone should have a friend. The island will be there whenever someone feels lonely, lost, or desperate for an escape. It’ll be there to welcome you. To give you a corner to hide. There is no sadness there. No loneliness or confusion. There’s only…”

“... hope.”

You nod at his hushed conclusion in your ear. Dream’s palm closes gently, forming a fist. The Dreaming exhales, his other hand slips off your shoulder, and in the far distance, an island shudders in the water, settling. Waves slosh loudly, beating against the dock, smoothing into crystal clear moments later.

Your eyes burn as you stare unblinking at the unassuming island.

“Why do you weep, Wanderer?”

You tuck your face in your elbow instinctively, chuckling thickly.

"This, no, it's... uh… thank you." Each word cracks with emotion as you mumble the words. Scrubbing your palm over your eyes, you smile softly. "Thank you so much for this."

“You need not thank me,” Dream states, a wrinkle forming between his brows. “The island is now part of the Dreaming. And whenever a soul finds themselves alone or in need of that comfort, they shall find their way here. It came from you.”

Does he have any idea how precious this is to you? No words in any tongue could adequately capture how deeply this settles in your soul. You exist. You’re real. The figurine in your pocket and the island visible in the distance are indisputable proof of that. He’s been a constant, a terrible shelter, for so long. But with this, he’s knitted himself in your marrow until your dying breath.

“Sit with me?” You settle down without preamble, your legs dangling over the edge. You never want this night to end. “Just for a little while,” you add quietly.

Dream lowers his head in consideration. Much to your unspoken surprise, his limbs fold elegantly beneath him, the golden edges of his coat pooling around him.

Your head drops back, watching the falling dreams. He does the same.

You don’t speak, and neither does he. Neither of you needs to.

Everything that ought to be said is expressed in the comforting stillness between you.

an: personal hdc is that before Corinthian escaped into the human world to wreak havoc, he had other ways to keep himself busy heh.

also, be sure to savour the happiness because it sure isn't going to last : )

#the sandman #the sandman x reader #netflix sandman #sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream x fem!reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #the sandman netflix #tom sturridge #fic: today i bury you in me

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

Like A Movie Part IV

Summary: Casting calls start, reader is a hot mess, Jenna is still a sarcastic workaholic

Jenna Ortega X Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: This one took me a bit longer than the others. I have more structure for where the story is going now, so I'll update as much as I can. Special thanks to @ipharaohosiris for their ideas!

**edit** For some reason when I made edits or corrections in the mobile app it cuts the last paragraph off. Guess I should edit better

Part I Part II Part III

You had to be at the studio in one hour. One hour and yet, you were pacing the floor in your bedroom beside yourself. You couldn’t figure out what to wear, you couldn’t figure out how to act, you couldn’t even sit down to have breakfast. It's safe to say you were freaking the fuck out.

You are a stubborn human being, and you almost never know how to ask for help. Being vulnerable is not in your wheelhouse. And seriously this isn’t that big of a deal. Just put some fucking clothes on and get your ass to the studio. Jenna and the producers will be waiting on you. All you have to do is sit in a room and decide the fate of some poor hopeful souls—no big deal.

You decide to text Jenna, fully intending to cancel. They don’t REALLY need you there, Jenna was capable enough.

Y/N

Hey Jenna. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.

She texts you back almost immediately like she knew this was going to happen.

Jenna

Okay. I’m outside.

Wait WHAT. You hustle over to your door, your hair flying behind you. You look out the peephole, and sure enough, there she is, leaning against the railing. She’s relaxed and cool, rocking a flowy white blouse and a long black skirt. You rip the door open and she stands smiling knowingly. Her smile falters and her eyes go wide.

She flicks her eyes down your torso and then very quickly returns them to your face.

“Ummm”

You glance down and immediately realize why she’s looking at you like that. You’re in a sports bra and boxer briefs. SHIT. You slam the door shut and speed walk back to your bedroom.

“Shit shit shit shit,” you say to yourself. You were really off your rocker today. Now Jenna has seen you pretty much exposed and will very likely never speak to you again. You panic, thinking she might think you’d done it on purpose, and turn around in your hallway with half a mind to open your door again before you realize you’re still in your underwear. And you realize you’ve slammed your door in Jenna’s face.

“Shiiiiiiit.” You groan, hurrying back around into your bedroom.

You hear your front door open and close softly and frown. You lean back out of your bedroom doorway and see Jenna at your entry. You’ve never felt more relieved to hear a person laughing at you. You’re dumbstruck. She’s still laughing at you as she makes her way down your hall.

“You’re in a state.” She says between giggles.

You are sure your hair must be wild, and your eyes are probably wilder. You grimace and shake your head, finally going into your room. She follows you, her laughter finally dying down.

“I’m so sorry, this is so unprofessional I wasn’t trying to flash you I'm so sorry.” Comes out of your mouth in a rush.

You want to crawl into your closet and stay there until the world forgets you exist.

“So you just forgot you were half naked?” She is still smiling, and you realize it’s at your expense. But her smile means she’s not upset, even if she thinks you’re a little crazy.

Your arms drop to your side, and then you gesture around your room, searching for an explanation. A good one doesn’t come to you, so you tell her the truth.

“See, what had happened was…I have no idea what I’m doing.”

She laughs at that and moves around you to sit on your bed. Usually, someone sitting on your bed would upset you, but for her, it doesn’t. It doesn’t make you feel like someone has invaded your space. In fact, it calms you shockingly quickly.

“So, you didn’t know what to wear.”

“I did not know what to wear.”

“And now you’re having a meltdown.”

“And now I’m having a meltdown, yes. Hence the nakedness.” You sigh.

Her eyes are full of amusement, and you feel a little less like a moron and a little more like a charming idiot. You’re just happy she isn’t irritated with you.

“Just wear something comfortable. It doesn’t matter, we’re not trying to impress them today. They’re trying to impress us. It’ll make it easier if you remember that.”

“Okay but you look, like, great. So, I can just look like a slob?” You throw your arms out, forgetting again that you’re literally in your bra and underwear.

“I had an interview this morning, so I’m actually a little overdressed.” She replies.

You huff but accept the answer and fling open your closet doors dramatically. You grab a pair of Dickies and slide them over your legs, turning as you button them.

“Eh?” You shrug at her, motioning to the pants.

“I think you need a shirt.”

“What, you don’t think our producers would want their writer looking like an asylum patient? Writers are crazy, you know.” You joke as you open the drawers in your dresser.

Jenna raises her eyebrows, “Yeah I’m gathering that.”

You make a mocking “haha” face at her and go back to digging in your drawer. Finally you find a black Ramones t-shirt with bleach streaks on it and pull it over your head. You slip on your vans and head into your master bathroom to try and tame your hair.

“Hey y/n,” Jenna calls from the bedroom, “Do you mind if I make an espresso to go while you finish? I don’t know if I’ll make it through today without one.”

“Of course, go ahead!” You yell back, assuming she knows how to work the machine.

You hear her heels striking the wood floors as she leaves the bedroom and walks down the hall. You’re in a boxing match with your hair today, and the hair is winning. You decide to tap out and throw it up in a messy bun. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re just going to be sitting in a room full of up and coming actors who want to be in your movie. No big deal. They’re there to impress you, not the other way around. Pssssh yeah, as if.

You splash some water on your face and head out of your bathroom. It’s as good as it’s going to get for today. When you round the corner to your kitchen, Jenna is about to pull the coffee out of the espresso maker.

“Oh yeah just watch out sometimes it-“

You’re interrupted as the machine spits hot black espresso all over the kitchen.

“…does that.” You finish.

It takes you a moment to realize that Jenna is covered in coffee. She is speechless. She turns to you with her hands up, her mouth hanging open. You fight hard not to laugh. Her top is ruined, without a doubt. Her hair is dripping with coffee, and stray droplets are running down her cheeks. You lose the fight not to laugh.

“Y/n! Don’t laugh!” She cries, but she’s trying not to laugh too.

She drops her arms and looks at you, defeated. You’re laughing too hard to do anything to help her. You try to stand up straight and shuffle over to the drawer with clean kitchen towels, handing her one in between breaths. She’s laughing now too, wiping her face off the best she can.

“I can’t wear this,” she gestures to her shirt, looking at you helplessly.

Your laughter is finally quieting down and you sigh, “You can borrow a shirt from my dresser. Now you won’t be over dressed.”

The look on her face is something you can’t quite pin. There’s an emotion behind it, but you can’t figure out what it is. She nods at you and heads into your bedroom while you clean the coffee splatters in the kitchen. When she returns a few minutes later, she’s in your oversized Misfits t-shirt, and her hair is up in a bun. Your jaw drops and you can’t even pretend it doesn’t.

“Is this okay?” She asks, motioning to the shirt.

“I…I…oh uh…ye-yeah that’s totally okay.” You stammer out.

You forgot to take into account that when you offered your clothes to her, she would come out wearing your clothes. Sounds stupid, you know, but forethought outside of writing wasn’t something you were great at. You pick your jaw up from the floor and compose yourself. Not an easy act, but you had some experience now. You had successfully remained friendly with the most attractive human being you’d ever met, so you’re basically superhuman.

Jenna gathers her things and ushers you out the door. You look around for her car, but you don’t see it in the lot.

“Are we walking?” You ask, concerned for her ankles in her heels.

She tosses you your car keys and your sunglasses, “No. We’re going to be late, you’re driving, James Dean.”

You slide your sunglasses on, “Woah so Captain Planet does dig the Mustang eh?”

She opens the door and drops into the seat, “I never said I didn’t like your car, I just said you think you’re too cool in it.”

You sit in the driver's seat, rolling the top down. “Now we both get to be cool.”

The sun is gleaming down, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. Jenna looks like she was made for the seat next to you, with sunglasses on, wind in her hair, and a slight smirk painted on her features. It’s only a ten minute drive to the studio from your house, but it feels like just the decompression you need. Your music rings through the speakers, and people gawk as you drive through Hollywood.

When you get to the studio, the producers smile and greet you like family. They give you a notepad and a pen to jot down your thoughts as the actors read through the scenes. They lead you and Jenna to a conference room set up with a long table at the head, your seat to the left of Jenna’s. The fact that the people lined up outside are going to be reading your words hits you like a freight train. This is real. It’s happening, and you almost can’t believe you were freaking out an hour ago.

Set off to the side of the head table is a camera facing a chair placed in the middle of the room. You silently wish the actors the best of luck. The amount of guts it would take to sit in that chair and force yourself to express an emotion that isn’t yours is an appalling idea. The respect you have for Jenna just grows, looking at that chair.

She’s settled into her seat at the head of the table, looking like she has never considered ever being anywhere else. You think she was built for this too. Directing is going to suit her well.

Wave after wave of actors roll into the room, sit on the chair and read your own words to you. Some of them are actually brilliant. Some of them should probably pack up their things and move back to Kansas. You note the ones you like best, and your table huddles after each one, comparing notes. During one of the huddles, Jenna indiscreetly presses her nose into her shoulder and breathes in. She blushes when she realizes you’ve caught her.

“Does it smell bad? I could have sworn that was a clean one.” You tell her, slightly panicky.

The blush on her cheeks deepens and you can tell she wants to hide from you. “No,” she mumbles, “it smells great.”

“Maybe I should wash your clothes then, we can both smell great.”

You didn’t think about what you were saying until the words were hanging in the air between the two of you. Your eyes lock onto each other, shock and a hint of humor fill both of your faces.

“Awh man, did you guys pick Judas’ first wife already? I was hoping to audition.” An actress you hadn’t heard come in says from the door. She’s looking at you. She thinks you’re playing a part. She must think Jenna is too if that’s the assumption she’s made.

Jenna sits up straight, the blush on her cheeks reaching her ears now. She waves her hand toward you and says, “This is y/n. The writer.”

The actress gasps and nods, “Oh man I am so psyched to meet you y/n! This script, it’s amazing! You’re amazing.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You hide your eyes behind one hand, smiling ear to ear. When your hand comes down the girl is beaming at you. You glance over and Jenna is scowling at her. The girl notices and cringes, hurriedly sitting in the chair.

“You may begin.” Jenna says, her voice all business.

You don’t think anything of the interaction and chalk it up to Jenna being serious about her work. The girl does a fantastic job, and you note her name down with a star on your notepad.

Olivia ⭐️

The day wraps around 4, with the first gaggle of actors finishing up. You group up with Jenna and the producers to compare your notes and make decisions on callbacks. The producers agree that Olivia is a clear front-runner in the race to become Jenna’s costar. Jenna is less than enthusiastic but eventually concedes as she’s outnumbered.

It’s been a long day once it’s all over, and you both drag your feet across the parking lot, falling into the car seats like rag dolls. You close your eyes with your hands on the wheel before you start the car, enjoying the warmth of the sun before you head back to your apartment. When you open them, you look over to see Jenna furiously scribbling notes in her notebook. She’s biting her thumbnail on one hand, and scratching at the paper with her pen in the other. She looks stressed and wound up.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey yourself.” She says back without looking up.

“Okay, notebook down. You’re gonna work yourself to death.”

She sighs and drops the pen into the notebook’s spine, looking over at you. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“I have an idea.” You say with a conspiratorial smile.

“If this idea doesn’t involve sweats and my bed, I want no part of it.” Jenna says, completely deadpan.

“Great, you’ll love it then.” You say, knowing that idea is far from what you’ve actually come up with.

You don’t go back to your apartment, and you don’t ask her where she needs to be dropped off. Instead you turn your car toward Highway 1. Nothing like a top down cruise down Pacific Coast Highway to shake the stress right out of your bones. Jenna protested at first, but she relented when the crashing of the waves could be heard in the distance. The setting sun warmed your skin and the quiet sounds of your playlist mixed with the ocean made it impossible not to relax.

She closed her eyes and smiled, taking a deep breath. Then she threw her hands up above her head as the car wound around a curve, roaring beneath you. You drove a few more miles and turned off at a small diner.

“Do you think you can eat here without being bothered?” You ask her.

She looks around, the parking lot is basically abandoned. “I don’t see why not.”

The diner is old and nearly empty. It was probably the place to be back in the 50s, when waitresses would roll around on roller skates and play swing dancing music over their speakers. Now it’s populated by a few elderly members and a waitress who couldn’t be younger than 70 herself. You ask to sit on the patio and she begrudgingly leads you both outside, slapping menus on the table before hobbling back inside.

The ocean is just across the parking lot, and the beach is empty, the sun nearly disappearing over the horizon. Jenna sits cross-legged on the chair, gazing out over the water, watching the sun sink into the waves. A heavy military plane flies low over your heads, causing you both to look up.

“Oh look, a C-130.” You say, pointing at it.

Jenna looks at you, a curious smile playing on her lips. “Why do you even know that?”

“I was in the Air Force,” you explain, “spent the better part of my youth doing Uncle Sam’s bidding.”

Her eyebrows rise up, she’s shocked by your answer. “You? In the military?”

“Is that hard to believe?”

She laughs, “Yes. You’re so…I don’t know. Not military like.”

“You mean I’m not an uptight weirdo. Nah, most of us just needed somewhere to go. After a while, you forget there is anywhere else to go.”

She nods thoughtfully, but before she can respond, the waitress is back, setting cups of water on your table.

“What can I get for you ladies tonight?” She asks.

Her nametag reads ‘Dolly’ in bright pink letters and it tickles you.

“Well Dolly, I think I’ll have a strawberry milkshake. And some fries, if you don’t mind.” You answer, looking up at her.

She glares at you and jots down your order then looks to Jenna.

“You know Dolly, I think I’ll have the same thing.” She grins up at her from the other side of the table and Dolly smiles sweetly back at her.

“No problem dear, I’ll bring that right out.”

When she’s gone back inside you scoff, faking being offended.

“I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“Well she’s smitten with me, so she has great taste.”

You put your hand over your heart and flinch backward, “Woe is me, Dolly is in loooove with my director.”

Jenna giggles at you shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s actually my middle name. Scouts honor.”

“We both know your scouts honor is a hoax y/n.”

You gasp, “You wound me Jenna Ortega!”

She fights not to laugh at you again, encouraging your goofiness. “Tell me about the military. Was it scary?”

“Not really, no. It was boring most of the time. And before you ask, no, I’ve never killed anyone. I worked behind a desk. I’ve been deployed six times, which sucked every time but only mostly because the food was terrible and the desert is the desert.”

“I wasn’t going to ask if you’d killed anyone. People ask you that?”

You nod, “Basically every time. But I got my retirement and I’m still young, so now I get to live out my dream. Thanks to you I might actually make some money doing it.”

“You are full of surprises,” Jenna says as Dolly comes out and sets the fries and milkshakes in front of you. She smiles at Jenna and ignores you, then heads back inside.

Your meal is filled with more banter, you ask her about life on sets and she asks you more questions about the military. Eventually she moves on to questions about your writing and you start asking her about fashion. The conversation is easy and comfortable and before you know it, it’s dark and getting chilly. Jenna refuses to let you pay for the food, and she tips Dolly an obscene amount before you head back to your car.

You look down at the stereo clock seeing it’s well past 8. “Where to, Ms. Ortega?”

Jenna rolls her eyes, “Please do not start that again. You can go back to your place, I’ll have my driver wait for me there.”

You pull the car back out onto the highway, driving slower than you had on the way out. The moon reflects on the ocean, washing everything in pale shadows of white and blue. Jenna’s hair is down again, blowing behind her in the wind. You think it’s a good thing you’re driving, or there’s no way you’d be able to pry your eyes off of her. Seeing her in your t-shirt, in your passenger seat, is the sweetest agony you’ve ever experienced.

The drive back is quiet and peaceful, both of you enjoying the summer air and the smell of sea salt on your skin. You can’t imagine what it would be like going back in time to yourself just a month ago, and telling them about this moment. You’d never believe it. But here you are, cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway with the top down and making the best days of your life.

You scroll to the Summer of 69 by Bryan Addams on your playlist, and Jenna screams in delight. The two of you sing it at the tops of your lungs into the dark sky.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #vada cavell #tara carpenter #Spotify

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superhero--imagines · 11 months

Text

A/N: I think the next part will be the last and I will be going on a short hiatus for about a month to rest and recuperate

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! /

Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! /

Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here ! / Part 17 Here! /

Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here! / Part 20 here! / Part 21 Here! / Part 22 Here! /

Part 23 Here! / Part 24 Here! / Part 25 Here! / Part 26 Here! / Part 27 Here! /

Part 28 Here! / Part 29 Here! / Part 30 Here ! / Part 31 Here! / Part 33 Here!

* “Why didn’t you tell me Thalia’s tree was poisoned, and that Ares is a…camp counselor.” If you could even call it that.

* The wind brushes against your face, offering you a short moment to think of all your grievances.

* ‘I have a lot to be discontent with.’

* Static crinkles on the other side, and you close your eyes and imagine your father shifting his cell phone until it’s wedged against his shoulder and ear.

* “I don’t remember you telling me there were monsters lurking around your school, so we’ll call it even.” In your defense there hardly ever are monsters around you these days—Percy’s a different story though.

* “How is Ares these days?” And then after a moment he adds: “and how are Clarisse and Dennis taking to having family around after all this time.”

* ‘The question of the year.’

* He takes your silence for an answer. “That good, huh?”

* “I think he’s really different from what she imagined—and that’s causing some friction.”

* Clarisse has spent her entire life with a mortal parent she couldn’t entirely relate too—someone prim proper who believed in rules and order.

* When she found out Ares is her father she attributed all her other-ness to him.

* Her rage, her rebelliousness, her desire for control — it was all because of him.

* But now, seeing her Father trail after her like a lost puppy, wearing short shorts and sleeveless tanks, and lounging around all day admitting the stories about him were greatly exaggerated—

* “Oh Hercules? He was a real looker in his prime, a real spitfire, the sexual tension ebbed over the pot a little when he slayed Kyknos.”

* “She’s having trouble coming to terms with the fact that all these ‘negative’ traits she's attributed to her father aren’t his, they’re just…who she is.”

* ‘It’s not a bad thing to be full of wrath and rebellion, after all a goddess’ wrath is the only reason I’m alive.’

* “She’s not even that bad though, Annabeth’s been freaking out about the tree and searching for clues in any book she can get her hands on, and Percy’s even worse because he has only child syndrome.”

* Zagreus snorts on the other end. “That’s rich coming from an only-child.”

* ‘It might be nice to have a sibling, especially one that was made specifically so I would have a friend.’

* “Do you think…do you think Poseidon loves Percy?”

* You’ve classified him as a degenerate for so long that the question surprises you, even when it passes from your own lips.

* It’s unimaginable to you that someone would have a child just for the sake of another of their progeny.

* But gods don’t think should children like mortals do.

* “Have you ever met Poseidon (Y/N)?” The phone crackles on the other end when you tell him no.

* “He’s not as good or bad as you’re thinking he is.”

* ‘What the hell does that mean?’

* You hear a thump beside you, and when you turn you see a certain dark-haired, ocean eyed boy.

* “I have to go Dad, I’ll talk to you soon…Cerberus’ treats are in the pantry, love you too.” You sigh when you click the phone shut, turning to Percy with a smile.

* “What’s up?”

* “I don’t know how much longer I can stand this,” he groans.

* ‘Out of the pan and into the fire.’

* “The tree right, don’t worry, what’s the worst that can happen? Zeus turns us all into trees as punishment? Being a willow tree might not be so bad—”

* “I meant Tyson.”

* ‘Oh,’

* “I thought you liked him?”

* Percy sighs. “I did—I do! I just…I don’t understand it. Why would Poseidon…have a child with a cyclops.”

* “Well…he’s got that forge underwater, right? And there’s a lot of steam so clothes stick—” Percy flushes.

* “N-no, n-not that!” His hand rotates to the back of his neck, an aggravated blush creeping up his face. “Forget the…laws of attraction or whatever, why’d he have to claim him? Everyone’s making fun of me now, it’s like I’m a joke,” he huffs.

* “Is this about the other kids teasing you?” His silence tells you it is. You sigh. “Look Percy…it’s easy for them to make fun of you for a monster-sibling when they’ve got other demi-gods to pick from.”

* His eyebrow quirks up.

* “What do you mean by that?”

* How do you explain this to a child?

* “Tomorrow, if something happens to your mom, Hades forbid, what are you going to do? Who do you have to rely on in this world?”

* “I have you.” He doesn’t hesitate for a second, not even a blink, the answer slips pass his lips like the most basic truth of this world. “A-and I have Annabeth and Grover, and Ch—” He lists each one off using his fingers as a marker, and you feel a soft smile curl on your mouth.

* “And you have Tyson. Even if we’re all pulled away from you because of the Gods' whims, Tyson will always stay on your side.”

* ‘A child literally made to always be on your side—so you’re never alone.’

* You can see that he understands now by the misty glaze in his eyes.

* “I feel like a dick.” Percy mumbles, his face in his hands. All you can offer is a laugh. “I-I’m going to go find Tyson and give him a hug.” Percy abruptly stands up, remembering that he doesn’t know where he’s heading.

* “He’s probably with Beckendorf!” You shout, earning a bright smile and wave from percy as he starts jogging to the forge.

* ‘What a good kid.’

* You feel good about how that went. But the peace doesn’t last long, because a moment later you feel the presence of someone standing behind you.

* You turn to see everyone’s favorite forever flushed, golden curls, counselor.

* He fidgets with makeshift camp halfblood tank top, the hem rolled between his index finger and thumb.

* “Can I sit?” He asks, and he looks so awkward you can’t bring yourself to say ‘no’—not even as a joke.

* You pat the spot beside you on the picnic blanket.

* “It’s a free hill.” Ares sits down beside you, whistling at the spread of food.

* “Are these Persephone’s baklava?” He picks up the container, a smile creeping on his mouth. “Persephone always made the best stuff, even in the old days.”

* “I didn’t know you knew Persephone.”

* “Of course I did, she was famous back in the day—still is.” The Tupperware container creaks as he snaps off the lid. “I still remember watching her turn Titan-sized and then beat the shit out of Kronos.” He snorts, popping a baklava in his mouth.

* His head tilts to the side, the dots in his mind slowly connecting. “I guess that’s something you have in common.”

* ‘I can’t believe Persephone fought Kronos and won…I can’t believe I fought Kronos and won!’

* Looks like beating the odds is in your blood.

* “You know Persephone is kind of the reason Dite and I broke up—”

* A horrifying thought occurs to you, “were you and Persephone…a thing?”

* “Not really, except for those two weeks I pretended I couldn’t read and we kissed a bit—” that’s concerning, “—basically I found out Persephone was a fertility goddess and I thought it would be cool to torment my dad a little by marrying her—” that’s also concerning. “—how was I supposed to know Dite, who’d been fucking all over Thebes and Olympus by the way, was going to get pissed off about it, or that Kore’d already met her Underworld Daddy.”

* Somehow, that’s the most sensible part of the story.

* There’s a moment where the only sound is the wind scraping against your ear and Ares munching on baklava.

* “What’s your endgame with Aphrodite? She’s married to your brother—”

* “Don’t remind me,” he scoffs.

* “—do…do you want to steal her away from him?”

* He looks at you like you just suggested you both go out and kick some puppies.

* “Of course not, I just want to join them.”

* Oh…OH!

* ‘That makes sense.’

* “Hephaestus will agree as long as she’s happy.” He pops another piece of baklava in his mouth. “All I have to do is get Aphrodite to fall in love with me.”

* It’s not the worst thing you’ve ever heard. In a way they’re all already family considering Hephaestus raised most of Aphrodite and Ares’ children.

* “Knowing you, it'll happen sooner or later.” Despite his faults, Ares is earnest and honest. You can…kind of see the appeal.

* He returns your words of kindness with a small smile.

* “I gave you some juicy gossip so now it’s your turn to give me something—“

* ‘And just like that he’s trash again.'

* “—how do I make Clarisse like me?”

* ‘And just like that he’s redeemed himself.’

* “Why do you think she doesn’t like you?”

* He gives you a look.

* “Right.”

* “I…I didn’t realize she’d gotten so big.” He mumbles. “Last time I checked the was barely bigger than my palm, I guess, I thought she’d always be that small.”

* Gods don’t age the same way humans do, that’s why it’s so hard for them to change or realize things.

* It’s sad, but it makes sense that from Ares perspective he turned away for a second and realized his child had completely grown up.

* “Just give her some time, she’s coming to terms with a lot, you can’t expect her to have a great relationship after you’ve been gone her whole life.”

* Ares nods, standing up and brushing off dirt from his shorts.

* “That’s the most boring advice I’ve ever got,” A small smile curls on his face. “but I’ll still give it a try.”

* You sigh, peace and quiet at last.

* ‘All it cost me was an entire tub of Persephone’s baklava.’

* You’re thinking of laying back and soaking in the sunlight when you hear footsteps get closer.

* ‘Probably Dionysus here to complain about the tree, it’s all coming full circle.’

* “A picnic delivered from the Underworld?” Your ears prick at the sound of the voice, unfamiliar and masculine.

* You turn slowly. A man with curly black hair, bright blue eyes, and dressed in a red tracksuit looks back at you.

* Even though you can’t place him you can feel power radiate off of him. His mouth twitches up in a lopsided smile

* “Do you mind if I join you?”

Tag list

@holybatflapexpert @atomicsophia @fadingunknowncoffee @hopeworldsupremacy @padsfirewhisky @magical-dreamland @kookiedesi @kiritokunuwu @bleepmorp @flickeringlizard @luckyzipperscissorsbat @jessiegerl @undecided-as-always @officiallydarkgeek

@marsbars09 @yizhoutv @alicesolengg @luxaryllis-primaryacc @time-shardz @cryinghotmess @crow-with-a-hoodie @the-nerdy-fangirl @crackedpumpkin @geekyandgay98

@lazydreamers @agentsofblinks @justsomestuffiguessman @mxacegrey @angelic-simp @astrial @babypink224221 @weaponb33 @redactedhimbo @heart-charming @psychomanias-blog @aliinunderland

@karnellius @lunavixia @cerberus-the-cutie @bes2005 @girlcrafter408 @loser-keiji @shadowsmusical @hazeofeleven @evilsailorsenshi

#percy jackson imagine #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #waking up in perrcy jackson #waking up in pjo #pjo imagine #pjo x reader #pjo #waking up in lore olympus #lore olympus x reader #lore olympus imagine #lore olympus #hades x reader #hades imagine #hades #waking up in hades #waking up in series #superhero--imagines

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bellaxgiornata · 10 months

Text

Falling For the Devil [Part eighty-four: "The Late Night Snack Hunt"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your friend group and you have a night out at Josie's and end up hungry and in need of snacks.

Or The five of you get drunk and you have a very interesting night.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.8k

a/n: Here's a fluffy installment that I've been teasing for awhile from a title that was suggested to me back when I was taking title suggestions (and I still have a good few more coming). We finally get the friend group back! I realized it had been a long time since we saw more than just Fog! I hope you enjoy and know that I wrote the last half of this with a fever today, but I wanted to get it finished on time! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @lina-mar @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites

“Ellison was not thrilled with that story,” you told her, a grin spreading along your mouth. “I’ll tell you that much.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Karen said with a laugh. “You’re going to single handedly become the reason that man loses all his hair.”

“I mean it’s not like I was being unsafe covering that story. I have had outside help getting information,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder.

Matt was at the bar counter with Foggy, the pair of them getting another round of drinks for the table. As if he was aware you were looking at him–and knowing Matt he probably was–he glanced over at the table you, Karen, and Marci were seated at. You saw his mouth curl up into a smirk and you couldn’t fight the smile in return.

“That is still incredibly weird,” Marci pointed out.

Your attention returned to the table, your eyes landing on Marci sitting across from you. Her focus was fixed on Matt now, her fingers tapping along the glass in her hands.

“What is?” you asked her.

Her head gestured towards Matt. “His superhuman hearing,” she replied. “And the fact that I can’t actually have a girl’s chat with you if he’s around.”

You shrugged, picking up your beer and downing the last bit of it. Setting it back onto the table you asked, “Why, is there something you want to talk about?”

Marci’s eyes shifted straight towards you, a pointed look on her face as she raised a single brow. Beside you, Karen leaned her elbows onto the table, making the exact same face back at you. Your eyes darted between the pair of them curiously.

“What?” you asked. “What’s with the faces?”

“You’re literally moving in with Matt next weekend. You don’t think we have questions?” Marci asked.

“Lots of questions,” Karen added.

“Oh,” you answered. “Right, yeah. It is next weekend, isn’t it?”

“Yes! And we’ve been dying to talk to you about it!” Marci said.

Matt appeared at your side, sliding another beer along the table in front of you. You thanked him softly as he casually wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Leaning into his side, your attention shifted back to Marci and Karen.

“It’s not like you can’t talk to me about it with Matt here,” you pointed out.

“Well in that case,” Marci said, both of her elbows coming to rest along the table as she also leaned forward towards you, a devious smile on her face. “Are you freaking out? Because I know you and I’m sure you’re freaking out.”

“Yeah, a little,” you answered her.

Matt shook his head beside you, drawing his beer to his lips. “That’s a lie,” he told her. “She’s freaking out a lot. Constantly. I’m pretty sure she’s still trying to find ways to hide having her period around me.”

Turning in your chair, you gawked at Matt and the little smirk on his face as he took a pull from his beer. Karen, Marci, and even Foggy all broke into a laugh around the table. You felt your cheeks heat instantly.

“Matt!” you whined.

He set his beer back down, shrugging his shoulders as he glanced at you beside him. “What?” he asked, that smirk still on his lips. “You think I don’t know why you’re always so supportive of me going out and doing my nightly hobby for a particular week straight every month lately?”

“Oh my God ,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You didn’t need to announce that to our friends.”

“Yes he did,” Karen disagreed. “So now Marci and I can tell you you’re being an idiot.”

“You have no room to say that,” you said, raising your head out of your hands and focusing on her to the right of you. “Because the guy you’ve been seeing doesn’t have heightened senses. Come back and tell me I’m being an idiot when he does .”

Matt’s hand started rubbing your shoulder comfortingly, pulling you further into his side. You felt him shift beside you, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. The embarrassment and the flush of your cheeks slowly began to dissipate at the affectionate gesture, a small smile slipping onto your lips as you contentedly melted into Matt.

“You two are freakishly adorable,” Foggy said, lifting his bottle of beer. “I can’t wait for when you both get married.”

Matt tensed instantly, his hand halting its soothing movement along your shoulder. Your brows furrowed at Foggy as he took a drink from his beer, silence falling over the table. Both Karen and Marci’s heads whipped in Foggy’s direction at his words, their eyes wide and brows raised in surprise. It took Foggy only two seconds before he was sputtering on his drink, waving a hand and shaking his head.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he quickly corrected in a rush. “I just–just meant you and Matt are an adorable couple. And you’re–you’re moving in together soon. I feel like marriage is probably going to be on your minds at some point, you know? And I’m definitely rooting for you both,” he finished in a nervous rush. Across the table, he raised his fist and pumped it up in the air once as he awkwardly added, “Yay, go you two! Accomplishing normal relationship progressions and things.”

Somehow your brows only drew further together on your face as you stared back at Foggy like he’d finally lost it. Karen was still staring at him curiously, her blue eyes scanning his face closely. Beside Foggy, Marci was shaking her head, focusing back on her drink.

“That was weird, babe,” she told him. “Even for you.”

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Foggy muttered.

You watched as he ducked his head, suddenly quieting. Beside you, Karen’s focus shifted between you and Matt. She still had that look on her face, the same one she got when she was incredibly focused on a case.

“Have you both talked about marriage yet?” she asked slowly.

Marci’s head snapped up, her eyes alight with curiosity. “Ohh, yes, have you?” she pressed.

"Uh, well, yeah," you admitted shyly, eyes dropping down to the beer bottle you began fiddling with. "We've recently discussed it."

"And?" Marci pressed.

"And I think I should move in first before you all start trying to marry us off," you said, peeling the label on the beer bottle.

"What about kids?" Marci asked next. "Have you talked about kids?"

Your head flew up, eyes wide as you gaped at Marci. She shrugged a shoulder innocently in response, still clearly waiting for your answer. Your eyes flew to Matt, wondering what his expression would be, but you couldn't quite decipher anything with his glasses on. From what you could see, his expression looked fairly controlled and neutral, impossible to read a reaction from.

“I uh, I think we should just focus on the moving in thing right now,” you said, voice pitched a bit higher.

“Alright fine,” Marci replied defeatedly.

You watched her deflate a little on the other side of the table. Though out of the corner of your eye, you were still watching Matt and wondering what was with his suddenly quiet and hard to read exterior.

“I think we should celebrate the occasion with more drinks,” Karen suggested mischievously.

Across the table, Foggy perked right back up, his usual energy clearly back. “Here, here!” he exclaimed, raising his beer. “To our little awkward journalist taming our elusive cocky Devil!”

Matt immediately released his arm from around your shoulders, waving his hand around as he shook his head. “Come on now, Fog,” he said. “No one’s taming anyone here.”

“Dude,” Foggy said with a grin on his face, “you’ve been talking about her moving in for months now. You have it literally scheduled on your phone calendar and have been counting down to that day all fucking month.” Foggy shook his head back at Matt, the grin never leaving his face. “You’ve never been like this over a girl before, don’t fucking try to deny it. Not to me, Matt.”

A pleased smile slowly made its way across your lips as you looked up at Matt beside you. His hands were on his hips now and he was clearly tonguing his cheek. His posture was stiff and rigid as he stared straight ahead to where Foggy was still grinning back at him. After a moment Matt exhaled a deep sigh, his shoulders dropping as his hands fell from his hips. He slung his arm back around your shoulders, glancing down in your direction. The dim light of Josie’s bar reflected off of his red lenses at the movement, but as he focused on you, you saw his expression gradually shift. His usual coy and cocky smile slowly crept its way onto his face.

“I guess you were the one to tame the Devil, sweetheart,” Matt admitted.

The table erupted in a loud chorus of cheers, but your focus remained on Matt as he smiled down at you. That pleased smile never left your face, instead it only grew at his admission.

___________

“I told you guys this place would still be open,” Foggy announced.

He came to a stop on unsteady feet in front of the grocery store, one hand gesturing wildly at the well lit building and the ‘open’ sign on the door. You pulled Matt to a stop beside you, both of your hands wrapped around his bicep. Squinting at the writing underneath the store’s name on the glass window, you read it slowly before excitedly tugging on Matt’s arm.

“Foggy!” you exclaimed. “You’re brilliant! They do have organic food here!”

“Looks like they’re only–” Karen paused on a hiccup before she continued to read a sign by the door, “–open for another twenty or so minutes.”

“Well then let’s hurry the hell up!” Marci cried out.

She looped her arm through Fog’s before dragging him towards the door. You could see the cashier inside through one of the large windows. They were rolling their eyes at the sight of you and your friends and the clearly various inebriated states you all were in. You were about to lead Matt into the store after your friends, but were immediately distracted by Matt’s hand grabbing your ass. Head abruptly turning to the side, you blinked rapidly a few times until Matt stopped spinning in your vision. Seconds later you caught the sly smirk already on his lips as he continued to brazenly grope you.

“I think I could go for some cake,” Matt mused, his words slightly slurred. “That sounds like a good late night snack.”

“You sound like a good late night snack,” you blurted, the words slipping out of you before your brain even processed them.

Matt snorted in amusement, his smirk turning into an amused grin. You couldn’t resist the giggle that bubbled out of you afterwards.

He did indeed look very fucking good right now. His beard was a few days past when he normally shaved because he’d been too busy with his nighttime hobby and kept oversleeping in the mornings to do so, so it was a bit darker and fuller than usual. You’d often found your fingers brushing over it lately, and even now you couldn’t resist releasing your hold on his arm, lifting a hand to affectionately stroke his cheek. He was also still dressed in his work attire, the top two buttons of his white shirt unbuttoned and his navy tie loose and partially askew. And of course he had his sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, his muscular forearms on display along with the patch of dark hair covering them. His forearms alone had been turning you on all night–when did they not? Not to mention, his ass always looked so damn perfect in his dark dress slacks, especially with the way the material was always pulled taut over it.

Matt’s head tilted to the side, the amused grin slipping off of his lips as something more devilish replaced it. He leaned in towards your ear, his lips just grazing the shell of it as he spoke. The sensation rose goosebumps along your arms.

“At this point I’d like to take you back to what is soon to be our apartment,” Matt whispered into your ear, “toss you onto our bed, and get these pants off of you. Then I’d like to–”

“Guys!”

Matt abruptly pulled away from you at the sound of Foggy’s reprimanding voice. Your head spun behind you, taking in the look of exasperation on his face.

“This place closes in like fifteen minutes,” he continued. “Save the grabby hands for later. We're looking for noms! And Matt, buddy, I thought you wanted that trail mix? You spent twenty minutes talking about it at Josie’s.”

“I did not!” Matt shot back.

You laughed, throwing a hand over your mouth when Matt’s dour expression turned on you. He really had spent a long time talking about it before you’d all left Josie’s trying to find a bodega or grocery store open that would have organic ingredients for you to make it for him.

“Stay focused!" Foggy said, pointing a firm finger at the pair of you.

Foggy turned and headed back inside the store, leaving you and Matt alone on the sidewalk once again. With a sigh your attention returned to Matt beside you.

“If you want me to make that trail mix, we should probably go in there now,” you told him. “Otherwise you’re going to be complaining to me later tonight for twenty minutes about how you didn’t get it.”

"Well it has been awhile since you made some," Matt replied.

"Matt, I made a huge batch a couple of weeks ago,” you pointed out.

"It wasn’t a huge batch," he disagreed. “I ate it in two days!”

You shook your head, both hands wrapping firmly around his bicep and pulling him towards the store. "Because I’m pretty sure that’s all you ate for two days, Matty.”

“I just really like the way you make it,” he mumbled.

You felt Matt shrug as you opened the door of the grocery store, leading him inside with you before you abruptly came to a stop. Your eyes immediately began scanning the aisle signs hanging from the ceiling, having to squint as you tried to focus. The store around you felt like it was moving, making it more difficult for you to read all the words.

"So we need nuts," you mused, trying to decide which aisle would be the one you needed.

Matt snickered beside you, the sound drawing your attention from the signs. There was a boyish grin on his face as he clearly continued to fight back his amusement.

"What?" you asked him.

"I–" Matt snickered again, "–I might be able to help there."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him as you grabbed a basket and began to lead the pair of you towards aisle six.

"Don't think you want those in there, Matt," you replied.

Matt was still shaking with silent laughter as you entered the aisle, your focus shifting to the row of nuts before you. You'd had to release your hold on Matt to try to closely scan the different packages, looking for the right nuts you always used that had no added anything–just the way Matt preferred it. Before you could grab the container from the shelf you’d decided on, you felt Matt's arms wrap around your waist as he drew you backwards and into the front of himself. His arms squeezed your waist tighter when you nearly lost your footing, keeping you from toppling over as you startled unexpectedly.

"Careful, Bambi," he teased playfully, chin resting along your shoulder.

"I'm only Bambi in heels," you countered, hands resting on his forearms to steady yourself.

Losing your focus from what you'd been doing, your eyes dropped down to his arms. Your fingers began dragging their way back and forth along the dark hair of them. Beside your ear, Matt let out a contented hum as he relaxed further into you.

"How are your forearms so big?" you asked.

Matt chuckled at your question, the rumble of his chest vibrating along your back. You bit your lip, realizing what a ridiculous question that really had been. But for some reason your mouth wouldn’t shut up.

“Like your arms are huge, so it makes sense,” you rambled on, unwrapping one of his arms from your waist and raising it towards your face to examine it, “but why are your forearms huge?”

“I do work out,” Matt replied. “Or have you already forgotten that after your experience at Fogwells?”

Your cheeks heated at the memory of him shirtless doing handstand pushups–you certainly weren’t about to forget that . Tongue slipping out to wet your lips, your eyes lingered on his muscular forearm and his hand you were still holding in front of your face. You felt Matt nuzzle against your neck at the same moment you felt a flash of arousal strike your inebriated brain.

“Mmm, and what’s that about?” Matt murmured against your skin.

“I like your arms,” you blurted.

“Oh?” he asked curiously.

“And your hands.”

You winced when the words had fallen out of your mouth, your face feeling like it was on fire now. Why were you just admitting all of this in the middle of the grocery store? Especially when you could hear Foggy screaming about cheese a few aisles over.

“I already know you like my hands, sweetheart,” he whispered. “No need to be bashful.”

You shook your head, eyes still focused on his thick fingers that yours had begun absently playing with. “No, I mean besides that. I like–” you stopped short, eyes going wide as your hands halted their movement toying with his fingers.

Matt drew his head from where it had been burrowed against your neck, his eyes focused on you behind his red glasses. There was a serious expression on his face as his head tilted just a bit to the side. His tongue quickly darted out between his lips and you saw his nostrils flare a second later.

“Finish that thought,” he ordered huskily.

“I–I just mean you’re very tactile,” you breathed out, unable to tear your eyes away from the red lenses that were inches from your face. “And I…like watching the way you touch things.”

Matt didn’t say anything, he only continued to silently stare intensely back at you. You found yourself speaking again before your brain could even catch up to the words falling out of your mouth.

“Like when you’re reading braille,” you blurted out. “Or when you’re tying or untying your tie. Or when you’re frustrated and you always put your hands on your hips.” You swallowed hard, Matt’s intense focus never wavering as your mouth wouldn’t shut up. “Or–or when you’re taking off the suit. Chopping vegetables in the kitchen. Honestly, anything you do with them is a turn on.”

Matt’s jaw tightened and you saw the way the muscle twitched in his cheek as the arm around your waist held you firmer against him. His nostrils flared again before his lips finally parted, about to speak–but before the words came out you heard laughter approaching the aisle you both were in. Both of your heads spun in the direction in time to spot your three friends standing at the end of the aisle.

“Guys!” Foggy exclaimed, holding up a tray of something in his hands. “Cheese!”

Whatever moment you’d been having with Matt quickly disappeared. Matt released his hold on your waist, his head tilting to the side in confusion as he grinned at Foggy. You dropped Matt’s hand that you’d been holding, unable to fight the smile on your face at his exuberance.

“What about it, Fog?” Matt asked him.

“What if you–now hear me out,” Foggy said, making his way towards you both, “put cheese in the trail mix?”

Your nose scrunched up on your face as Matt chuckled, shaking his head. The giant smile on Foggy’s face did not waver as Karen and Marci rolled their eyes at him.

“No one puts cheese in trail mix,” Karen told him.

“Exactly!” Foggy exclaimed. “What a missed opportunity!”

“For cheese to spoil?” Matt asked him.

“No!” Foggy said, shaking his head quickly. “You could put cheese in there! A few different types. And maybe like…some salami?” His eyes grew wide as he nodded vigorously. “Yes! That’s also a brilliant idea! And maybe–maybe some grapes?”

“Foggy Bear, it sounds like you want a charcuterie tray,” Marci said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

The expression on his face shifted to a look of confusion as his brows furrowed, eyes focusing on the tray of cheese in his hands. You bit your lip, fighting back the laughter as you watched him slowly nod, focusing on Marci.

“You’re right, babe,” he said. “Maybe we should grab one of those?”

She patted his shoulder as she said, “I’ll go grab one.”

Pouting, Foggy glanced down at the tray of cheese. “I still think it would be good in trail mix,” he muttered.

You laughed, turning and focusing back on the row of nuts beside you. Picking up the container you’d been about to grab before you’d been distracted by Matt, you placed it into the basket you were carrying. But before you could turn around and guide Matt down the aisle you’d need for the dried cherries, you felt his mouth suddenly beside your ear again.

“I’m going to remember what you said about my hands, sweetheart,” he purred.

___________

You squealed loudly as Matt dove forward, tackling you on the couch. The weight of him easily knocked you back into the cushions. Giggling, you struggled underneath him and tried to sit back up, but he buried his face in the crook of your neck and pinned you to the couch instead.

“I love you,” he said, the smile apparent in his voice as he nuzzled his nose against your skin. “Have I told you that enough lately?”

Giggling a little more at the feel of his beard tickling your skin, you shifted your hips underneath him, trying to get comfortable as your hands grasped onto his shoulders. Above you, Matt adjusted himself so he was no longer crushing you.

“Only about twenty times since I made you that trail mix,” you replied. “I’m beginning to think you’re only with me for the trail mix.”

Matt’s head drew back, a look of faux offense spread over his face. “How could you possibly think that?” he asked, feigning hurt.

You giggled again, a hand reaching up to run your fingers along his jaw. Matt’s expression softened, his head leaning into your touch as a warm smile slipped onto his lips. All this time later and it still made your heart flutter when he responded to you like that.

“You feeling a little better with some food in your stomach?” you asked him. “You drank a lot more than I did tonight.”

“Yes, and I blame Fog. He wouldn’t stop pushing the shots,” he said. “And of course he listened when you said no more. But me?”

“He’s just excited that we’re moving in together,” you told him, your hand falling to your side as Matt pulled himself off of you. “He’s texted me so much this past month freaking out himself because he’s so thrilled about you ‘finally settling down’. His words, not mine.”

You sat upright beside Matt, grinning when you watched him lean forward and stick his hand in the jar of trail mix on the coffee table. You’d made it for him the moment you two got back, Matt practically begging you the second you were through the door. He grabbed a handful and tossed it into his mouth, leaning against the backrest of the couch as he chewed.

“Yeah,” he said with his mouthful. “He certainly is. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already writing a best man speech.”

Nerves fluttered in your stomach at yet another implication of you and Matt possibly getting married tonight–though this time it actually came from Matt himself. You weren’t nearly as intoxicated now as you were earlier, but you were certainly still missing that filter between your brain and your mouth, finding yourself yet again saying things you normally wouldn’t.

“He’d make a good best man,” you said softly.

“Yeah, he would,” Matt agreed.

A moment of silence passed.

“And I already know you’d look good in a tux,” you whispered.

Matt’s gaze shifted towards you, his eyes no longer covered by his glasses now that you were both back at the apartment. For a moment they scanned around your face before you saw them abruptly shift down towards your chest, focusing directly on your heart.

“And I can only imagine the sound of your heartbeat when I call you Mrs. Murdock,” he murmured.

You audibly sucked in a breath in surprise, not expecting him to have said that . Lips parting, you gaped at him as you felt your own pulse erratically increase. A slow smile spread along his lips.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his eyes still focused on your chest. “I imagine it’d be something like that, actually.”

Stunned speechless, you sat there with your mouth hanging open as you just stared at his cocky grin. With an amused huff, he reached forward and grabbed another handful of trail mix from the glass jar, leisurely throwing a few pieces into his mouth as he settled back on the couch.

“Maybe we need this trail mix at the open bar, too,” Matt mused between bites. “Pretty sure I’ll be craving it. Especially if Fog will be forcing alcohol down my throat all night.”

You didn’t know how to respond as Matt had continued on, talking as if he’d already decided on proposing and marrying you. Your mouth was still hanging wide open as he continued to toss bits of trail mix into his mouth.

Was he being serious? Or was it the alcohol in his system making him tease you like this? Was that all it was–him teasing you? Because you knew how much he liked to do that to get a reaction out of your body. But at the same time, why would he tease you about something so big like that? He had to know marriage wasn’t a topic for poking fun at you about.

Something hit your chin and you startled out of your thoughts. Matt’s entertained chuckle hit your ears as your brows drew together, your mouth finally closing. Glancing down, you saw a cashew on your lap.

“Did you just–just throw a cashew at me?” you asked him in disbelief.

“Well if you’re going to sit there gawking at me with your mouth open like that,” Matt teased, “I figured I’d see if I could make one in. Guess I missed, though.”

Your eyes drew back up to his face, taking in the wide smile settled there. The dimple you loved so much was visible, his eyes creased at the corners as he gazed back at you.

“Why?” you asked him, picking up the cashew and tossing it into your mouth.

His smile never faltered as he shrugged. “Broke you out of your spiraling thoughts, didn’t it?” he questioned back.

“How did you…?”

“I know you, love,” he replied simply.

Your eyes dropped down to the hand he’d gently placed on your knee. Your heart fluttered in your chest at the rare term of endearment he occasionally called you. A second later he patted your knee twice.

“How about we get ready for bed?” he suggested. “I’m pretty tired and honestly curling up with you sounds perfect right now.”

“Yeah, okay,” you said with a nod. “I’ll uh, I’ll grab those noise-reducing earbuds and leave them on your nightstand. I have a feeling you’ll need them in the morning.”

The pair of you rose from the couch together, but before you could make your way to where he kept the earbuds in that bowl in his entryway, his hands landed on your hips. He drew you towards himself, slipping his arms around your waist as he pulled you into an embrace. Your own arms wrapped around his neck as you buried your face into his shoulder, your body naturally melting into his. It was crazy to think that a year ago you were still quietly pining over him, and now here you were about to move in with him.

“I love you,” you whispered into his dress shirt.

Matt’s lips placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I love you, too,” he murmured into your hair.

“Only one more week,” you whispered.

His arms squeezed you a bit tighter in response.

“Only one more week,” he agreed.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x f!reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 10 months

Text

The Freak and The Princess (I)

Summary: Eddie lets you walk by during his rant in the cafeteria, stumped by your quietness and manners toward the town freak. He then decides to be the perfect gentlemen. [Part 1 of 5 depending on if anyone actually reads it.] 2k+ Words

Warnings: none! Just more fluff than a Pomeranian. There is also a very good chance Eddie is OOC but Imma risk it (if you get that reference, we should be friends).

A/N: (I'm terrified to do this.) This is the first thing that I've ever posted so constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated! I've been writing stories like this for years but have been too scared to post them for a variety of reasons, but I love writing and reading so if one person can get a little joy from this, then my goal is reached. I edited this and proofread it, but please point out any errors or things that you like! And please send requests; all the characters I write for are under my tag #characters! Hope you enjoy! :)

The Freak and The Princess

Part One: My Princess

Being as quiet as I am has its pros and cons.

Pros: I don’t get noticed often, can easily observe everything around me, and can escape my real life whenever I want.

Cons: when I do get noticed, it gets real.

I’ve lived in Hawkins since eighth grade. Now I’m a senior. I don’t have any consistent friends, although Steve Harrington came to be someone I knew I could trust and talk to after dealing with the Russians side by side last year. The only person I noticed for myself was Eddie Munson. He was a big, bad high schooler when I moved here, and I guess that hasn’t changed. Since he’s two years older than me, we’ve never talked or met, but I know who he is, and he’s one of the few people who can make me smile without even realizing I’m there.

I was walking through the cafeteria, trying to get outside away from all the noise and people, when I heard a voice I’d recognize anywhere say, “But as long as you’re into band, or... science. Or parties. Or A GAME WHERE YOU TOSS BALLS INTO LAUNDRY BASKETS!!”

I watched as he walked down the Hellfire lunch table, stopping at the end and responding to Jason’s comment with fake devil horns. He continued talking, jumping off the table and finishing. He stepped back, motioning for me and another girl ahead of me to walk by him.

“Thanks,” I whispered, smiling as I met his eye. I felt his eyes on me as I walked by, and I decided he was trying to figure out who I was. I waited in an empty classroom until most people cleared out before walking to my locker and gathering my things.

“Hey,” someone said beside me. I jumped slightly before turning to see Eddie leaning against the lockers and looking at me.

“Hi, Eddie,” I said quietly.

“You know my name?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Man, now I feel bad. Let me guess?”

I laughed lightly and nodded, closing my locker and picking up my bag.

“Marcie? No, that doesn’t fit. Kelsey? Too cheerleader-y. Princess?”

“That your final guess?” I smiled. He nodded, a proud look on his face. My watch beeped, and I pressed it to silence it.

“That’s my cue. See you around, Eddie!” I said, walking out the door.

“See ya, princess!” he called. I blushed, glad to have my back to him. The next day I went to school as usual; until lunch. I walked into the cafeteria, on my way through as always, when I felt someone walk up beside me.

“Hey, so I haven’t seen you around before and wanted to introduce myself. I’m Jason Carver.”

I kept walking, not talking to him. “What, I can’t even get a name? Pretty girl like you has to have a pretty name!” I was at the door when he grabbed my wrist, “Look, I get that you’re shy. All I’m asking for is a name, beautiful.”

He was surprisingly cordial, but I knew there had to be a catch.

I thought quickly, deciding to say, “Arwen.”

I pulled my hand from him and rushed outside. After my last class, I walked to my locker, hoping to see Eddie again, but soon my watch beeped, and I headed to work.

“Hey, kiddo, how was school?” Steve asked as I walked into Family Video and pulled my vest on. I shrugged and started stocking tapes. I heard the door open then close before Steve spoke to me again. “Something happen?” I shook my head no. “I’m gonna go check on Robin. I’ll be right back,” he said, moving past me quietly.

“Princess?” I heard from the other end of the aisle.

I looked over to see Eddie with two tapes in his hand. I smiled at him and quietly said, “Hi.”

“Fancy meeting you here. Should'a known The Hair got to you,” he smiled, standing closer to me.

“Take it easy, Munson,” Steve warned as he returned to the counter.

Eddie rolled his eyes, causing me to laugh lightly. His smile widened, and he held two movies from the new release pile. “Which one?” I gestured to The Goonies, watching as he nodded and slid the other back where he’d pulled it from.

“Didn’t see you at lunch today. You race through the cafeteria again?”

“Munson, leave her-“ Steve started before stopping when he heard me talking.

“Got corned by Carver and had to make a run for it,” I answered.

Steve jumped the counter, pointing at me as he rounded the corner into the aisle. “Did you just answer him?” Eddie and I nodded, Steve’s jaw dropping further. “How long have you two known each other?”

“Uh,” Eddie looked at his watch, “thirty-six hours.”

“And you’re already talking to him?” Steve asked incredulously. I shrugged in response, continuing what I was doing.

“She talk to you?” Eddie asked Steve.

“Yeah, but it took her a lot longer to start.”

“I just have a welcoming and calming persona.” I laughed, shaking my head. Eddie walked past me to check out the movie, still bickering with Steve. He turned to me as he walked out, waving.

“Let me know what you think,” I said, pointing to the tape with my chin.

“Absolutely. See you tomorrow, princess.”

“Did Eddie 'The Freak' Munson just call you ‘princess’?”

“Yeah. He didn’t know my name, so he started calling me that.”

“Why didn’t you tell him your name?”

“Couldn’t. I don’t mind though.” I fell silent again, ignoring Steve’s questions and comments. I went home a few hours later, finishing my homework and hoping to see Eddie again tomorrow.

I exited my fourth-period class, ready to sit by myself for lunch. I walked into the cafeteria, taking a new route the other way around to avoid Jason. I ended up closer to the Hellfire table, smiling as I saw Eddie in a heated conversation with the boys.

“Hey, beautiful,” Jason said, slinging an arm around my shoulders as he came up behind me.

I was too far from the door and knew I couldn’t speak more than a few words. I only had one choice. I shrugged his arm off me and made a beeline for the Hellfire Table. There was an open seat by Eddie, so I slid into it, looking at him as they all silenced, staring at me. I flitted my eyes toward Jason, who glared at me and Eddie. I was shrinking into myself, wanting the floor to swallow me, when I felt Eddie grab my hand, his thumb rubbing the back.

“Guys, this is my princess. Princess, these are the guys,” he said. Then leaned in and whispered, “I won’t let anything happen to you, ‘kay?”

I nodded, squeezing his hand slightly. Jason stormed off, and I breathed a sigh of relief but didn’t move to leave, choosing instead to silently listen to the guys talk about their new Hellfire campaign as I played with Eddie’s rings. Walking out of my last class, I saw someone leaning against the locker beside mine.

“Thanks for the help at lunch,” I said, walking by him and opening my locker.

“Anytime, princess. You working today?”

“No, I’m off the rest of the week. Scheduling error by my idiot boss, Keith.”

Eddie nodded. We both looked out the window when a loud crack of thunder sounded, and rain started pouring down.

“You have a ride?” Eddie asked, pushing off the locker as I closed mine.

“No, but I don’t live far.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll give you a ride.” He slipped his jacket off and laid it over my shoulders.

“Eddie, you don’t have to. It’s completely fine. I’ve walked home in the rain before.”

“A princess should never walk home. Let alone in the rain. As long as I’m here, it won’t happen again.” He extended his hand, “Milady.”

I placed my hand in his, our fingers interlacing as I said, “Why thank you, kind sir.” We ran to his van, and I gave him directions to my house. “See you tomorrow?” I asked, beginning to take his jacket off as he parked in my driveway.

“Of course. Keep the jacket, you still have to walk in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I can pick you up in the morning if it’s still raining like the forecast said.”

“I’d really like that. Thanks for the ride, Eddie.”

“A pleasure, princess.”

I ran to my front porch, shaking the rain off and unlocking my front door. I waved to Eddie as he backed out, then went into the empty house. There was one more day, then solitude. At least I had Eddie and Steve to make the days more tolerable.

Eddie kept his promise, pulling up in front of my house as I stepped outside. I moved to return his jacket, but he shook his head, “That’s yours until it stops raining.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. Have to keep my princess dry and warm.”

‘My princess.’ His princess.

We walked into school together before going our separate ways for classes. I walked into the lunchroom, setting my sights on the Hellfire table. I was just a few steps away when Jason stopped me, standing between me and the table.

“You have a lot of nerve ignoring me,” he said loudly. I saw Eddie pick his head up and look over, making eye contact with me over Jason’s shoulder. He stood up but didn’t move toward me, waiting.

“You gonna say anything? Can you even talk, Arwen?” I heard a few laughs before Jason continued, “What? Did The Freak sell your soul and your tongue to the devil?” I clenched my jaw, starting to see red. “Just a matter of time until he sacrifices you. Or worse,” he whispered. He backed up with an evil grin. Now everything was red.

“How do you know he hasn’t sacrificed your soul? Oh, that’s right, your head is so far up your butt you’d notice the extra room,” I responded quickly.

The whole cafeteria broke out into yells and clapping.

“What’d you just say to me?”

“I said to get your ears checked. Your ego seems to be clogging everything up.”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Not half the person you think you are.”

“If you want attention, baby, just come out and say it.”

I saw Eddie step toward us but gently shook my head, stopping him.

“Maybe I do want attention. But I promise I don’t want yours. So, if you’d be so kind as to move out of my way, I’d appreciate it.” He took a single step to the side. “Oh, and if you so much as look at me or any other member of Hellfire again, I will shove my foot up your butt until your heart stops. Got it?”

Jason nodded and rushed out of the room, everyone cheering again as I walked toward Eddie and grabbed his hand. He nodded, following me to an empty classroom.

“Why did I do that?” I groaned as I sat down, burying my face in my hands.

“Because you’re amazing.”

“Now people know who I am, and they’ll talk to me.”

“I’ll become your personal bodyguard. Nobody will be able to talk to my princess.”

The bell rang, and we reluctantly returned to classes, meeting by my locker at the end of the day.

“Let’s drop by Hellfire real quick.” We entered the room, and he dug through a box before pulling something out and turning around, unfurling one of the signature Hellfire Club t-shirts. “This should fit. You called yourself a member at lunch and we have a very strict policy regarding verbal agreements.”

“Oh, of course,” I smiled and slid it over my other shirt.

We stopped by Family Video to return Eddie’s tape, Steve’s eyes widening as we walked in together, asking, “What’s happening here?”

“Someone stuck it to Carver today, in front of the whole school,” Eddie smiled.

“Good job, babe,” Steve said as he began returning the movie, “How ya feelin'?”

“I’m ok,” I shrugged, “hoping this doesn’t lead to people trying to talk to me.”

“Well, keep hanging with this freak and it won’t be a problem.” Steve smirked at Eddie.

“Whatever, Hair.” Eddie playfully rolled his eyes. “Let’s go, princess.” He wrapped his arm around me, and I waved to Steve before walking toward the door.

“Take care of my girl,” Steve yelled.

“I’ll take care of MY princess,” Eddie yelled as the door closed.

A/N2: If you read this far, thank you so much! Please leave a comment or send me a message with any recommendations or requests (or if you're interested in more parts of this story). :)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n

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writingsfromhome · 6 months

Text

Impossibly Real II

Y’all loved Part 1 and honestly were so sweet about it. I had to wrap up their story in return 💗

——————————————————

Harry knocks on my door and I open it before he's even done. I was excited for this date, I really think this was going to be a good one.

That didn’t stop me, however, from having mad jitters while getting ready. In the end I settled on wearing a silky pink skirt and with a fuzzy pastel pink sweater that was my favourite go-to. I paired it with white boots (still heeled) and some gold accessories. I was feeling myself.

As soon as Harry sees me in the doorway he takes a step back. “Wow. You look…stunning.”

I feel my cheeks heat, unused to this kind of attention from Harry. And I could tell he meant it—it wasn’t just a cheap compliment to get in my pants. I try not to show my internal squirming. “Thank you. You look very handsome!”

“Ah,” he waves the compliment away. “You see me wear this sort of thing to work all the time.”

“I know but you shaved,” I reach out to touch his face and then think better of it. We hadn’t even gone further than my door yet.

“I did,” he rubs his face like I wanted to.

“I like the smell of your aftershave,” I say as we get onto the lift and the smell bounces off the four walls.

He leans all the way down so that his neck is beside my face. I giggle—god, I actually giggle. I feel an overwhelming desire to rub my nose against the heat of his skin but I keep my freak hidden and fake an exaggerated whiff instead.

“C’mon,” Harry holds his hand out and we head out to the tube, my hand securely wrapped in his; I feel giddy just holding his hand.

This was going to be the best date ever.

I mean, it was still weird going on a date with my neighbour. For one, he had to only close the door to his home, turn around, and knock on my door to pick me up. For another, I'd seen Harry a million times since I moved in last year and not once did I ever think we would be doing this.

Harry and I talk all the way to the place about a new Netflix show we were both watching. It's light conversation, we don't acknowledge the fact that we're actually doing a proper date. That we were both mega into each other. It's almost like we were simply traveling into work and casually chatting 'til we reached our destination.

The restaurant—Harry’s pick, is tucked onto a street corner near Soho, the window shades are blackened except for a fancy script. Island X.

“I’ve never heard of the place.”

“It just opened a couple months ago,” Harry holds the door open for me; who said chivalry was dead.

“Wow,” I marvel at the interiors. It’s like someone took the Great Gatsby and worked it with wood tones and orange lighting. And monstera plants.

“That’s a lot of monsteras.”

“What?” Harry asks.

“Monsteras?” I wave my hand at all the ginormous planters but Harry’s attention is to the front of the line.

“Monsteras?” He asks, eyes still forward. “Like. The Lil Nas x song?”

“What?” I crinkle my brow. But then it clicks and I can’t help but laugh. “Oh my god you think I’m talking about-“

“Hiya!” The hostess interrupts me and I cover my mouth.

“Are you laughing at me?” Harry whispers as we follow to our table.

“Yes,” I wipe my tears as we’re lead to a cozy corner. I’m even tucked into my seat!

“Wow I’ve never been to someplace as fancy as this?”

“Really?” Harry’s face flits with a microsecond of an emotion I can’t read. “I thought maybe this was your scene.”

“Oh no,” I shake my head. “This is very fancy. I’m kinda low brow.”

“Oh,” his eyebrows knit together and he fiddles with his napkin. “Some woman at work suggested it.”

“Oh who?” I ask. Harry’s spoken to me about work before, I thought maybe it was a coworker I knew.

“Just someone that works on the same floor.” He pulls his glass of water close to him. “She’s just a friend.”

“Oh I didn’t mean it like…” I trail off. Why would he think I was being jealous?

Suddenly the awkwardness of the situation washes over me. I was on a date. With my neighbour. If this didn't end well we were screwed. I would lose my only friend in the entire neighbourhood! It would be painful to live next door to each other! At least until one of us found a partner or one of us moved out of the complex.

The pressure of it all makes my ears ring.

“Right,” Harry clears his throat as the waiter approaches and starts to scan the wines. “Any of the wines look good to you?”

I stare at Harry while he buries his nose in the menu. Somehow I felt like I already messed up. Maybe all of these bad dates had one thing in common: me.

God, I couldn’t even make it work with a friend.

Harry glances up. I guess I forgot to respond. Before he could notice I’d been too busy staring I start to scan the menu.

“D’you mind red?” I ask.

“Sure. Which red do you recommend?” Harry asks the waiter. I think it’s cute he asks. Dates in the past have pretended to know the difference between all the names and then ordered something that usually tasted like dog shite.

They discuss the wine and I pretend to nod here and there while I browse the dinner menu. Obviously I had studied it after getting dressed tonight. I knew what was safe for me to get (pasta or seafood) and what would cause a big mess (burgers).

“I’m gonna guess what you’ll order.” Harry says once we’re alone again.

“You really think you know me well enough?”

“Yeah. I think I know you well enough.”

“I don’t think so.” He might have a lucky guess but we hadn’t eaten out together enough for him to know my taste. Plus what I wanted and what I was going to order tonight would be two different things.

“I bet you I know. I’m so confident I’m not even going to say it right now. I’ll just order for you when the waiter comes back.”

“Are we confident or cocky?” I tease.

“Confident,” he says but he drapes his arms back against his chair and relaxes, giving an f-boy cocky pose. I laugh, grateful for the reprieve of living in my thoughts.

“Ready to order?” The waiter asks after pouring our wine. It was a nice balanced wine that was helping me relax.

Harry orders his meal and then looks up at me, “She’ll get the Organic Highland Prime Burg-“

“Actually,” I cut him off. Harry looks at me with his sure smile but I shake my head. It falls immediately.

I feel bad but I just couldn’t eat a burger at a fancy place like this on a first date. I’d done it before and it had not gone over well. Think White Chicks but instead of a Terry Crews it was a Ben Shapiro.

“Sorry,” I point to the safe item. “I’ll do the Blackened Lobster Lasagna.”

“Great choice.” The waiter says something else but I’m too preoccupied with how much worse I was making the date.

“Really?” Harry asks. The waiter pauses as he looks between Harry and I and I start to flush.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” It comes out more curt than I intended and Harry just nods.

“Sorry.” I apologize to Harry again once the waiter leaves. “I didn’t really want something messy.”

“Oh. Yeah it’s alright.” He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "The lasagna does sound really good.”

“Right? I think it'll be really good.” I hear myself talking and want to stab myself. Really. Because this king of small talk was what I fell back on talking about when a date was going bad.

I had to redeem this. This couldn’t be a bad date. This was just Harry.

“This wine’s good too,” Harry says as he puts his glass down on the edge just as I yank my foot out from under the table to show him my shoes, yanking the table cloth in the process.

“So my shoes-“

“Shit!”

His wine tips over onto my white boots and we stare at them as the stain spreads.

“Napkin-“ Harry’s voice snaps me out of the spiral I’d found myself in as I watched wine seep into my coveted shoes.

Harry’s leaning over patting it down but I yank my foot away. This was incredibly embarrassing; everyone around us was watching the scene we were making.

“We need water-“

“I’m going to the toilet,” I announce. Harry looks up sharply, his face is panicked.

“I’m sorry yn I-“

“S’cuse,” I don’t mean to brush him away but with all the eyes on me and the fact that I kept finding ways to ruin this date—this date that was supposed to be perfect, my eyes were pricking with tears. I needed a breather.

“Shite,” I sigh as I balance on one foot in the toilets and try to wipe the stain in the sink. But red wine stained badly just like my performance on every date I’ve ever been on.

“Get yourself together,” I say to myself in the mirror. “Harry is amazing and you’re fucking all this up! Shoes are temporary, finding a good man can take forever! Snap! Out! Of! It!”

I do some deep breaths and one last attempt at cleaning my shoe before I make my way out.

“Yn I’m so sorry,” Harry stands as I return. “I’m so clumsy tonight I didn’t mean to-“

“Harry it’s fine,” I put my hand on his arm. “Honestly.”

“The stain didn’t come out!” He notices the shoes. “I’ll replace them—send me a bill or…”

I don’t have the heart to tell them he couldn’t replace my £400 Acne boots that easily. I’d bought them a couple seasons ago to celebrate the fact that I’d finally gone out with a guy, and hadn’t thought about my ex once. They were I’m-officially-over-my-ex boots.

Now that I thought about it though, it was stupid to wear them on a date with Harry. They were soaked in the bad luck of all the dates they’d been on since.

Agh!

“I’m serious Har,” I cut him off from his plans to replace them. I take a deep breath and motion he should do the same. “Look, it’s really fine. Plus they’re my favourite colour now. They’ll go with the rest of my wardrobe.”

He stops apologizing and looks down at the splotch of pink on the white. “In that case. We’ll have to take the bottle home and stain the other one.”

“Deal,” I say and he smiles at me softly and it feels like things might go better now. Maybe we really had a chance.

When our food arrives Harry’s steak isn’t done how he asked, and they take it back. I awkwardly push around the food on my plate, not wanting to eat until he had his food too.

“You can eat,” Harry reminds me. “I’m sure it’ll be out any minute.”

“We can share for no-“

“Just eat,” Harry says but now all the focus is on me eating and I feel tense and awkward and quite frankly, frustrated.

I shouldn’t have piled so much hope on this date going perfectly.

We wave the waiter over when too much time has passed by, and he seems confused about the steak.

“D’you think they forgot?” I ask Harry.

“Maybe,” he looks frustrated, two spots of pink have taken residence on his cheeks. I feel bad. This date wasn’t turning out for both of us.

It takes another 10 minutes for his plate to come back out. By then my plate looks like I hated it but tried to eat it to be polite. Harry tries to ask if it can be heated but I’m way too non-confrontational in restaurants to let that happen so I shovel a mouthful of room temperature food and give the waiter a thumbs up.

I just wanted to go home.

By the time Harry pays the bill (it was expensive, even though we agreed to skip dessert. He insisted on paying) I was ready to call an uber to whiz us home. But he suggests we walk off the food to another station and it sounds like a good idea so I follow along. Maybe now we could have a nice time.

The walk was supposed to help clear our heads and be romantic but somehow the mood had soured beyond repair. We don’t talk the whole time, both of us lost in our own heads. Neither of us holds hands, or even loop arms.

And somehow it gets worse when we arrive at my door.

"Well this is me," Harry points to his door beside mine in an attempt at a joke. I throw a polite smile.

"Thanks for the date," I say. I feel like it's a little curt but I didn't really know how to act. Did we hug? Shake hands? We liked each other but clearly this date was proving we didn't belong together. Kissing each other goodnight felt like the opposite direction of tonight's vibe.

"No, thank you. And sorry. Again." Harry looks embarrassed as he glances down at my shoes.

"Harry, honestly it's okay," I try to reassure him. I would take walking ten miles in heels I had yet to break in than this awkward air that stifled us. It was never supposed to be like this!

"No it's not," Harry huffs. "I ruined your shoes."

"They're shoes. Just shoes."

"It's a first date, I don't want you thinking I'm a clumsy mess."

"Harry," I lean my back against my door. He looked so good tonight, I was so excited when I opened my door to him a few hours ago and everything had gone tits up. I didn't want him to feel this way. It was my fault, not his.

"I just," he rubs his face and then sighs.

"It wasn't that bad," I lie. The night had gone so badly.

"Yes it is!" He throws his hands up and the movement makes me flinch. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. God, everything's just..."

I blink and my eyes start to sting. It was the end of the night and we'd officially decided this wasn't going anywhere. It wasn't a shock, but still it was upsetting. I really liked him. I really thought things would work out between us, especially after that night with my heels in his bathroom. I had to call it.

"I should go in. I'll see you later Harry."

His brows scrunch up, he opens his mouth and then closes it. "G'night yn."

"G'night." I whisper. He stays there like he always does as I go into my flat. I peek through the peephole and catch him mouth a fuck before opening his own door.

Still in my outfit, my shoes kicked off to the side, I start to pace. I can't do anything except go over the date in my head.

Was there a particular moment I fucked up? Should I have said something differently? How did Harry and I go from having amazing chemistry and an honest friendship to this?

Maybe I was trying too hard. I should have just ordered the burger like he’d guessed, should have gone along with what he talked about. I should have been a better date.

That was it. I couldn't go to bed like this.

The fact that every time I had a shot at a date, a real chance, something had to go wrong and it was always me. I had to fix this.

I grab the doorknob, and pause. I was about to march right into Harry's flat and ask why the date went so terribly. But what was the point? It would just make things even more awkward.

I think about the last time we hung out. There was beer. Maybe we just need beer—no hundred pound dish or fancy red wine. We just needed to be us. Lowbrow beers and a relaxed environment.

I grab a jacket to throw over my outfit and slip into my Stan Smiths. I head downstairs and in the direction of the local shop for a 6-pack. We would drink beer in our flat and get over this awful date. This couldn't be the last of us.

As I cash out a familiar head of hair in the closest aisle catches my attention.

"Harry?"

"Yn?" He's dressed down in joggers and a jumper.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Grabbing dessert," he shakes the plastic container with donuts inside. "What are you doing here?"

I hold my box up. His eyes widen slightly, a frown touches his lips for a mere second before he arranges his face into a neutral expression.

"All for yourself?" He asks.

"No actually-“ I'm about to launch into what I was going to do but the cashier clears his throat and stares pointedly at Harry. He was holding up the line now.

"Oh sorry," he walks up to the counter and pays for his items. I stand off to the side and we walk out together.

"So you were saying?" He asks.

"Well. I was coming to your place with these."

"You were?" He stops in the middle of the sidewalk to ask.

"Yeah!"

"You're not joking?"

"No!" I laugh. "Why?"

"I..." he looks down at his box and swallows what he was saying. "Let me guess, was it a bad date?"

When he looks at me it's a cheeky look. I almost want to kiss him there.

"Another bad date yep," I tell him and we start to walk towards home.

"Was it the bloke?"

"Not exactly, I think a lot of it had to do with me."

"You sure the date wasn't an arse?"

"No he was sweet. He was very chivalrous, I really thought it was just going to go smoother."

"What do you reckon happened?" He asks. We were both enjoying playing this game. Quite frankly it was combing out the awkwardness.

"I dunno. For one I really wanted a burger but I got in my head and got lasagna instead. When do I ever eat lasagna!?” Harry laughs unexpectedly and it makes me feel good so I continue. “I started thinking about all of my failed dates and almost-relationship. I tried not to make this one date turn out like them but that was my mistake.”

“Sounds like it’s tough being you,” he teases. I push him lightly.

“Well if you could put yourself in our shoes what do you think happened?"

"I think your date got a bit nervous." He responds. By now we've reached our lobby and we take the lift up. "He's not used to going on dates—didn’t he have a steady girlfriend for 3 years? That's 3 years with 0 first dates. He didn’t want to screw things up and he was so in his head about the fact that he took her to an overly fancy place when that wasn’t her scene-“

“It’s not. But it was a cute place. Just poor service.”

“Yeah it was shite service—or I heard it was.” We glance at each other and grin. "I heard he split wine on your shoes."

"Psh," I laugh. “The pink stains were on the outside this time not the inside.”

The lift lands on our floor and we hover outside our doors. "Yours or mine?"

"Mine?" Harry opens his door and I follow the familiar hall to the couch I'd sat on just a week ago. I pull my legs up and we crack open beers, each biting into the sugary pillows he'd bought.

“I actually bought dessert so I could have an excuse to knock on your door and talk to you after that date.” Harry confesses after we’ve each had our moment with our donuts.

I feel warm inside, we’d both wanted an epilogue after the date. We were determined, and ended up in the same place. I hold my drink up. “Cheers.”

Harry tilts his head and smiles. He’s gonna be the death of me whether this works out or not, the thought pops into my head.

"I feel like I need to apologize," Harry continues. "I didn't want to mess things up and I think I just overthought it all and-"

"Please." I cut him off. "I totally made everything awkward and I think I'm just cursed."

"I don't know why I thought you would like such a fancy place. As soon as you said you're not into it I felt like I was doomed-"

"I didn't mind it! I just wasn't expecting it from you!"

"You don't think I'm a classy man?"

I laugh, "Just not that uppity on a first date."

"I was trying to pull out all the stops."

"Instead we just full stopped."

That gets a laugh from Harry. It dies down as he asks, "So what do you reckon? Is this a sign we're only meant to be neighborly friends?"

I bite my donut, mulling his question over. The beer and donuts were helping. I felt like I was thinking clearer than I had all night.

"I wouldn't say no."

We sit in silence as we think about it until he moves down the couch and rests his knee against mine.

"I really like you.”

"I like you too," I agree with my heart quickening.

"Then why don't we stop dating and just do this. No dates. Just hanging out."

"I don't know," I say. "I don't mind being wined and dined occasionally. Don’t you?”

"Okay, how about we just hang out. And when hanging out gets boring we put on our going out clothes and wine and dine each other. Think about it," he says and I nod, agreeing.

“Only if when we put on our going out clothes you keep wearing that aftershave.”

“Deal. And you wear your favourite colour each time.”

“Done.” I grin.

"So you wanna watch a movie or something?" He asks.

“Is that a euphemism?” I tease. He turns his TV on and turns to me with a disappointed look. I try not to laugh.

“No yn get your head out of the gutter. A movie. An actual movie.”

I stick my tongue out. "Can we just not watch anything romantic or sad though?”

"Toy Story it is," Harry puts on the film and we lean back against his couch, cuddled into each other. His fingers play with my hair in slow movements that feel comforting.

I wake up a few hours later, the movie long over. Harry's snoring softly, his arm wrapped around me.

I smile to myself. Even after the disaster of a date we were alright.

I nuzzle myself into the crook of his neck, feeling the musky heat of his skin, and drift back off.

***

A knock wakes me.

I open my eyes slowly and look around the room. I wasn't in my room. I was still on the couch, the cushions had done wonders for my back but my neck was stiff.

Harry was still fast asleep, his lips parted, and his arm thrown across his face. He looked so kissable then.

There was another knock, and Harry's arm slips off his face. He sits up, and the knocking resumes.

"Coming!" He shouts as he runs his hands over his face and hair.

He stands and looks back at me, and smiles. He's still sleepy but he's smiling at me.

"Morning." He says.

"Good morning."

He stays there with a dazed smile until I point behind him.

"Door?"

He nods and makes his way over to answer the door.

"Harry Sty-?" a voice asks.

“Yep,” Harry mumbles something I can’t hear. He’s asked to sign whatever it was.

"Thanks," his voice is rough and he clears it.

Closing the door behind him, he throws whatever package he'd received to the floor and walks over to me. "We fell asleep."

"I guess so. I'm still in last night's clothing." My skirt was now wrinkled and my top was half untucked and ridden up my midriff. "What time is it?"

Harry glances at his watch. "Half past 8."

"Shit! I've got work in half hour!"

"Work from here," Harry leans over me on the couch and offers his simple solution.

"I'll have to shower."

"You live next door. Just do your business and come back with your work things. It'll be like old times."

He's inches closer to me, and I really want to kiss him. It's funny we'd done none of that on our first date but now I want a re-do.

"Okay," I whisper.

"Okay," Harry whispers and he closes the distance and kisses me. It was better than our first kiss.

When I pull away I have a stupid smile on my face.

"Go get ready love," Harry laughs and pushes me off the couch. "You'll be late."

"See you later," I wave and walk out the door, smiling because he’d called me love again. And he hadn’t even hesitated.

Harry was right, it was a lot like the old days. In between work meetings, and Harry's calls, we had a lot of time to spend together. We chatted shit, snuck in some kisses, and talked about work.

We don’t go on a second date, instead we order pizza and watch Toy Story 2 (even though we'd fallen asleep in the first one).

Our days together are fun, and the nights were even more fun.

It was a Wednesday, a week and a half after the disastrous date. Harry and I had taken most of the week off and we'd spent it together, and tonight we'd gone out.

It was a great date, nothing fancy or high brow. Just a lowkey pub with a bunch of beers and greasy messy food and tons of laughter.

"So," Harry says as we're walking hand in hand back to our flat. "How many more days of leave do you have?"

"I have four and a half weeks total."

"Woah. That’s a lot."

"Why? You're not regretting this are you? Getting bored of me?" I tease him.

"I've had 29 years to prepare for you," he teases back.

"That's a good one. But I don't think you can handle 4.5 weeks.”

"Try me."

"Fine," I bump my hip into his.

We're silent for the rest of the walk. But it’s a good silence. When we reach the building, Harry takes his time unlocking his door.

"What are you doing?"

"Just waiting," he shrugs and I laugh.

"Do you want me to stay the night?"

"Yes," he answers without any hesitation; in the last week I'd slept in my bed once.

He opens the door pretty quickly after that and I follow inside—tomorrow, tomorrow I would sleep in mine. Harry could join me if he wanted.

Tonight I watch him close the door, the second the lock clicks I'm taking his jacket off for him and he's laughing at my eagerness.

"Someone's impatient."

"I'm not," I lie and drop his jacket.

"No?" He wraps his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. He kisses my jaw, and then the corner of my lips. You'd think I'd be used to this by now but it's just as dizzying as the times before.

I shake my head and his mouth hovers over mine, his hot breath tickling me.

"What about now?" He whispers.

"Nope," I breathe out and I push onto my tippy toes to kiss him. What can I say, I was denying it with him but I'd never been good at the slow and steady stuff. Harry's mouth was a drug, and I couldn't help myself.

He's not slow and steady either.

He's quick to lift me up and set me on the island in his kitchen, his fingers trailing over the edge of my skirt, his mouth working against mine.

His hand cups my ass and his fingers inch closer to my heat.

"Yn," his voice is soft and he pulls away.

"Yes?"

"Did I tell you how radiant you looked tonight? I can’t take my eyes off of you any time I see you, especially when you’re so loudly and comfortably you in your coordinated outfits and elaborate hairstyles. I feel like the luckiest guy out there. I think I am the luckiest guy in the whole city. I catch sight of you in public and…you just take my breath away."

"Aw Har. I’m already yours. You don't have to butter me up," I tease him as I pull him back to me but his words make me weaker than any kiss could. I know my eyes are growing watery at all of the nice things he’s saying and I’m grateful when he pretends not to see.

This was the nicest thing a guy has said to me, he was really telling me that he liked me for me. He felt lucky. Well I must have won the lottery if he felt lucky.

"I know I don't have," he doesn't pull back again but whispers this into my neck. A shiver runs up my spine. "But I just want to tell you that you're so beautiful."

His mouth trails over my jaw, and back to the corner of my mouth, he doesn't kiss me and I want him to.

"So beautiful," he whispers and I tilt my head back to invite him to continue the trail his lips were making. "So sweet."

He kisses my collar bone and the strap of my top. "So lovely."

His hands trail over my thighs and I want him so badly.

"You're making me melt," I tell him.

"Good thing we're in the kitchen," he hums.

"You're the worst," I giggle and his hands cup my cheeks and he presses his lips against mine. His tongue swipes over my lips and I allow him entry.

We're a tangle of limbs as we kiss and kiss, until I can't breathe. When we move to the bedroom I hardly have time to catch my breath there too.

"Yn," his voice is rough, his hair wild. His body is hot against mine and the way he says my name is enough to make me transcend this dimension.

"I like you. A lot."

"I like you too. A lot too." I can barely get the words out as I try to worm my way into his skin.

He chuckles at my growing impatience but he’s too far in to hold back again. He gives in to every one of my needs--even ones I didn't realize I had.

I'm a goner.

As we fall asleep, his arm wrapped tightly around me, I know we did the right thing. Despite being neighbours or the awful first date. The fact that we bumped into each other at the shop later that night meant we were supposed to have a second chance.

We worked best like this: warm and tucked away, whispering confessions into each other’s skin, seeing each other and not caring what we aren’t.

He pulls me closer in his sleep, sighing into my hair. This felt impossible before but it was so real now. And I think I really won the lottery; I’d dated a million toads before but I think I finally found my prince.

TAGLIST:

@kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @mellamolayla

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #i hope this meets everyones expectations #for how things go between these two #harry styles angst #fanfic #i did not do a lot of edits so dont mind any inconsistencies etc

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rorywritesjunk · 4 months

Text

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. A known swordsman makes a brief appearance in this. Buggy is jealous and a bit insecure in this chapter. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. Also I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who reads, reblogs, and replies on this story. I love everyone of you and it makes my day brighter knowing there are people enjoying this! So thank you thank you thank you! <3

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 7

Buggy woke up to a bucket beside his bed, a glass of water on the nightstand, and a note telling him you were in the kitchen. He was confused as to why you left him a note because he didn’t know why you were there at first. He had fuzzy memories from the previous night: going to the shop, walking back to the ship, a drink, a marriage proposal, sharing his bed-

Oh shit. He fell out of bed, horrified by how he acted towards you. That was the last thing he wanted and he scrambled to find some clothes to put on. He found his shirt from the previous night and threw it on, ignoring the stains and smell of beer coming off it. Maybe you were still on the ship and he could explain everything, unless you left and never wanted to see him again. That was entirely possible.

You were in the kitchen when he came crashing in, eating a banana as you looked at the photos he showed you last night. He froze when he saw them and you looked up with a smile.

“Good morning, Buggy.”

“Where did you get those?!”

“You showed them to me last night.” You chuckled before taking a sip of your tea. “After you asked me to marry you.”

His hand shot off to grab them but you were quicker, moving them out of his way. You then pointed to the floating hand.

“Also, can you explain this?” You asked. “Miss Pins mentioned something about Devil Fruits but I didn't get it. and last night your body… was a part for a moment and it was…interesting to see.”

How were you talking so casually about all this? It was like discussing the weather, you were asking if it was cloudy outside. Others would have been horrified, thinking he was some kind of freak for what his body could do, but you were just eating a banana as you waited for an answer.

“I… have Devil Fruit powers.” He mumbled as he sat himself in a chair across from you. “I ate the Chop Chop fruit, so my body can split apart.” He scratched his head and looked at you. “Well? Aren't you disgusted or scared of me now?”

“Am I supposed to be?” You frowned as you finished your banana. “It's not like you bleed everywhere when it happens, right? If anything it's probably useful. You took your bottle back from me last night when we were walking, which was, admittedly, a little weird, but I had already seen it before. Just after you laid down last night I realized I wanted to ask you.”

“So…you're not disgusted that my body does this?”

“Buggy, I don't find your body disgusting.” You assured him as you sipped your tea. “Okay?”

He blushed and looked away. “Really? Even my nose?”

“I think it's cute.” You smiled.

“Sh-shut up! Don't lie to me!” He shot back as he glared at you.

“I'm not, promise.” You assured him as you looked back at the photos. “You were so cute as a kid.”

Buggy sat back in his seat, still glaring at you as you set the pictures down and got up to pour him some tea. Did you really think his nose was cute or were you just saying that? So far you'd never been mean to him, only occasionally teasing him, but he still was wary when it came to his nose.

When his tea was ready you brought the cup back to him and pushed the plate of fruit over to him. “I figured fruit would be a good post-birthday hangover meal. You need to hydrate.”

He crossed his arms and eyed the plate before looking back at you. “Why are you still here? I figured you would have left.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You told him as you picked up an apple and cut into it, separating it into slices. “You said stuff about me making you happy if I married you, and… I got worried.”

“I'm fine.” He grumbled as he looked down at his lap. “I was drunk, ignore what I was saying.”

You put the apple slices down on the plate before getting back up to find something with protein for him. He picked up one of the slices and shoved it in his mouth as he turned to watch you. He acted like a damn idiot last night but you stuck around to make sure he was okay. Did you want something from him or did you genuinely care about him? This wasn’t something he was used to or expected, so it was a little hard for him to understand. You found a jar of peanut butter in a cupboard and grabbed it.

“Here, have this.” You opened it, noting that it still seemed edible before finding a spoon to scoop some out for him onto the plate. He watched you suspiciously before he helped himself to the peanut butter.

“You don't have to stay.” He said with his mouth full of food. “Your boss is gonna come looking for you.”

You shrugged as you sat back down in your chair. “I'll leave in a bit, but only if you walk me back.”

He glanced up at you with a frown, but you said nothing as you grabbed a towel and wiped his face for him. He grumbled and tried to pull away from you but you didn't let him, making sure his face was clean before you sat back down. He glared at you, face flushed as he finished his plate.

“Ignore everything I said last night.” He said again as he looked down at the plate. “I was drunk.”

“So you don't think I'm nice?” You asked with wide eyes, feigning surprise. “Or soft? You don't want to marry me then?”

“I-I do!” He said before slapping his hand over his mouth. You grinned at him and leaned back in your chair. He glared at you. “You're cruel.”

“I thought I was nice.” You teased as you sipped your tea. He crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance as you grinned at him. “Let's finish up, I need to head back. I have a customer returning today and I need to make sure he gets his order.”

He just grumbled as he drank his own tea. You got up and tidied up the kitchen, making sure to wash the dishes and dry them. He watched you as you moved about, enjoying how you already felt comfortable on the ship, that you seemed to know where everything was already in the kitchen. It was a sight he could get used to, he decided, but he didn't know if it was something you'd want.

“Let's head out, okay?” You said with a smile.

Buggy just nodded, but instead of leaving the ship you led him back to his room to put the pictures back while he pulled his boots back on. You found him a clean(er) shirt to wear and held it out to him, turning you back so he could change. He didn't know why, you obviously saw him shirtless (and he had a brief flashback to what he thought was going to happen last night and he momentarily died of embarrassment before straightening back up), but once he was ready he reached to put his bandana back on when you stopped him.

“Can you leave it down?” You asked, your own cheeks pink as you reached out to touch a lock of his hair. “It's um, just so pretty. I’d like to see it.”

He stared at you, wondering if you were teasing him again, but you weren't. A lock of his hair was entwined in your fingers as you ran your thumb over it, and when you realized what you were doing you let go and put your hands behind your back.

“Sorry.”

“No, it's…fine.” Buggy said as he tossed the bandana aside. He always put his hair up, finding it to be a nuisance as it got longer. His Devil Fruit made it difficult to get a haircut, it just reattached itself whenever he tried to cut it, so he gave up and let it get long. He didn't think it was a feature someone would care about, like his nose.

You smiled at him, he felt his face heating up and he looked away as he held his arm out to you. When you linked your arm with his he straightened up before he marched out of his room with you on his arm, thinking today would be a good day.

When he saw your customer he was horrified by how handsome he was. Dark hair, cheekbones, sharp, yellow eyes. And you were nice, helping your customer into his coat, explaining what you did with his request, and when you touched his shoulders Buggy couldn't help but feel jealous because you did that for him too, you always made sure his coat fit him, but it was obvious now that you did it for everyone. Buggy had no reason to feel special.

When you finished up, your customer kissed your hand before leaving. Buggy was seething. You just shook your head before grabbing Buggy by the hand and leading him to the backroom.

“I have a present for you, Buggy.”

He tried to ignore Benji saying how cool that guy looked or Miss Pins commenting how that customer was so handsome because he knew they wouldn't think that way about him, so why would you? He said nothing as you let go of his hand and retrieved a small white box from a pile of other ones. He crossed his arms, glaring at his feet as you walked back over to him and held it out.

“Happy birthday.” You said, but he wouldn't take it from you. “Buggy?”

“You didn't know it was my birthday until last night.” He mumbled. “How do you have a gift for me already?”

You shrugged as you opened the box for him. He still wouldn't look at you. “I thought of it this morning. I did some hand stitching on this for a customer who never came back for it, but thankfully he prepaid for it.” You pulled out a square of silk, a light purple color, and held it out to him. He finally looked up, reaching out to touch it with his fingers carefully. “I thought it would look better on you than in some box.”

He hesitated and pulled his hand back. He didn't deserve a gift like this from you, especially considering on your own birthday he was an asshole to you. You said nothing as you rolled the fabric loosely before draping it over his neck. You pulled his hair out from under it before you looped it into a knot and tightened it just a bit.

You smiled as you tugged on the front of it gently. “It looks good on you, Buggy.”

Buggy swallowed heavily and nodded. You were so close to him right then. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty. If he didn't do what he wanted to do right then he would regret it. You'd get romanced by someone else, some more handsome pirate, and he had to make it up to you for what he did on your birthday.

Without a word he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, nose bumping and-

Honk!

Buggy froze and pulled back from you, a look of horror on his face at what just happened. You stared at him, but before he could bolt you grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him back, tilting your head just enough to avoid bumping his nose. He kept his arms at his sides, unsure where to put them.

It felt like it went by too quickly when you pulled back from him, smiling brightly as you pecked him on the cheek.

“Is this a belated birthday gift, Buggy?” You teased as you let go of his shirt. He was red in the face but he grinned, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to be smooth.

“D’you want it to be?” He asked. You touched the silk around his neck and leaned into him, but he leaned back, expecting some kind of surface to support him, but instead he fell backwards and crashed onto the floor.

You immediately knelt down and helped him sit up, checking him for injury. He seemed fine, just embarrassed, so you kissed him on the cheek.

“It could be, but I wouldn't say no to flowers.”

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