#chriss answers asks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magnoliabutters · 1 year

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• WHERE IS HE? •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her, 18+) reader

summary: emptiness, hopelessness, that's all she has to go on now - but that won't stop her from finding him.

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; mention of dwugs, anxiety, trauma; all the season 4 spoilers you can handle (have you not watched it yet? seriously? i mean no judgment 👀); long distanced affection and fluff, panic attack, hints of depression, not the best coping skills, violence, etc.

word count: ~8k

stories of eddie munson series • season two •

notes: hello! welcome back to our season two. exploring how our baby eddie has now become daddy kas. i roughly followed the timeline listed here for season 4's events. i would def recommend (re)reading season one to understand some references and fall back in love with eddie ♥️

“Please,” you say, exhausted from all the groveling. “I need to know where he is.” Gareth looks up to you as he kicks his feet against each other. His shiner on full display behind his wavy locks. “Last time someone came looking for him, I got this,” he grumbles as he points to his eye. You take a deep breath. All you cared about was finding him. You did not care what happened to Gareth, not if it had nothing to do with giving you a clue as to where he was.

A day has passed since you saw the news broadcast, since they declared the love of your life as a satanic murderer. There was no doubt in your mind that the stories were ever true, but you needed to find him. To be there for him, during this dark time. To help him get out of it, no matter what it takes.

“I’m sorry that happened, Gareth,” you say, thinking sympathy will gain his compliance. “But I need you to tell me something, anything.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes. Your heart sank, convinced he wouldn’t budge. “Who even are you to him? I’ve only seen you a few times in the caf. Why do you care so bad?” he asks as though the words tasted bitter in his mouth. This is not the first person who has asked you this on your journey to find him. You feel stupid, knowing you could have been introduced to all these important people in his life but you wouldn’t. You were too scared.

With another deep breath and your eyes closed, you plead, “Please. Tell me something.” Your eyes begin to well, so close to the truth yet so far. You are unsure if he showed pity or if he did not want to be bothered anymore. He whispers, “Jason’s looking for him too. He’s got a head start on you.” Your swallow, hard. It makes sense. He was accused of killing Chriss - her. You are desperately trying to stay away from acknowledging the reality of her death.

“Go to Wayne. He might know something. Those Munson’s protect their own. He probably has him in hiding or something,” Gareth mutters as he takes a step back from the doorway. You nod, grateful. “Thank you,” you say with a waver to your voice. He rolls his eyes and closes the door before you. Still, you cannot help but smile. You initially thought to get in contact with Wayne, but knew it would be difficult right after the news broke out. It should be easier to get to him now.

You get back in your dad’s car. You grab the map resting on the passenger seat. Quickly, you cross off Gareth’s house with your red pen. You haven’t been home in the past 24 hours. You’ve barely slept, not that you even wanted to. You are hell bent on finding him. Not a single second can be wasted on you. It is all about him.

As you place the car in drive, you reach for the handheld radio in the center console. “Baby,” you say as you pull out of his driveway. “I need you to answer me. I need to know you’re okay.” You move your thumb from the receiver to take a harsh breath. “I know you didn’t do this, baby. Please let me help you,” you say into the frequency with a shaken tone. During one of your first nights together, you both decided on a channel to check in to if you were ever separated. You have been checking that frequency since this all began.

“I’m heading to the trailer,” you continue as you pull onto the main road. “I’m hoping Wayne’ll tell me where you ended up.” In hopelessness, you press your head against the seat’s headrest. “I have my radio on me. Please reach out,” you whisper as your eyes land on the familiar trailer park sign. “I’m crazy about you.” You bite your lip, desperate not the cry - not when you are about to speak with eldest of the Munson’s.

The road to the trailer park has been worn out. You are sure it is due to all the news trucks and bystanders. The road that used to make you smile, gave you butterflies in your stomach, now solemn. And it wasn’t just about him. You used to see kids playing about, having fun at the playground right at the entrance. Now, there are no kids. The people you see are those who usually wave “hi” to you when you drive down. Now, they watch you with suspicious eyes - no doubt, curious as to what you are doing.

As you pull up to the Munson trailer, you watch Wayne lighting a cigarette on the steps of his front deck. His eyes on the ground, stuck in a disassociated state. Not even the sound of your car pulling up was enough to draw his eyes. You get out of the car, hooking the radio onto your jean’s back pocket. Carefully, you close the door to not startle him. You slowly walk towards the trailer.

“Hi Wayne,” you greet hesitantly. He quickly sniffles, rubbing his nose and eyes. “Hey, y/n,” he replies with a faked smile. You grin, as you awkwardly stand before him. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” you ask, wanting to give him space if he needs it. “No, come on down,” he lightly laughs as he grabs hold of a beer bottle beside his right foot. He takes a swig as his eyes remain forward. You sit beside him, breathing slowly as you lean against the trailer. It’s been a while since you have had your hands on something of his, something he loved.

With your eyes forward, you whisper under your breath, “He didn’t do this.” Wayne shakes his head, then shrugs as he takes another swig of his beer. He hides behind his baseball cap. Shortly after, he takes a puff of his cigarette. “My boy wouldn’t be capable of something like that,” he mutters. “He would never do something like that.” You place a hand on his forearm. Your brows pull together in pain. “No, he would never do this,” you whisper. He turns to look at you with widened eyes, as though you were the first one to say that to him. He then scoffs and shakes his head, looking down.

“I’m glad he had you when he did,” he mutters against the bottle’s mouth. You look down to your feet, feeling the tears settle in your eyes again. With a hard swallow, you look back to him, “I’m looking for him, Wayne.” His eyes slowly fall upon yours in disbelief. “I-I thought maybe you would’ve known where he is,” you suggest. He laughs, the first genuine smile you have seen since the night you first met him.

“I would’ve,” Wayne starts. “I would’ve taken him so far from here in a heartbeat. The justice system is bullshit. No matter how innocent he is, they still would’ve called him guilty for just playing that dragon game he likes.” He scoffs again, shaking his head. “But I didn’t get to him first,” he whispers.

Excitement bursts through your skull. Your eyes widen. “Do you know who did?” you ask as you adjust your seat so that you face him. He looks over at you with saddened eyes. He watches as the happiness fades from your face. “I don’t,” he mumbles. “I keep thinking he’ll reach out some how.” You place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I keep thinking the same thing,” you soothe. “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t come find me. Let me, or u-us, help him.” You turn back towards Wayne to see a smile slowly form on his face. You cannot help the grin that grows on yours. “What?” you ask with a chuckle. “Sometimes it’s hard to think outside of the box with so much shit hitting the fan,” he looks up at you with excitement. He reminds you of him. A warm feeling fills your chest. “What is the only reason he wouldn’t contact us?”

You feel an overwhelming wave of love flood your body. “He’s protecting us,” you nod. He nods back, then shakes his head with a laugh. “That boy is the very first Munson with the purest intentions.” He smiles as he takes another swig of his beer. “I’m not going to stop looking for him,” you say with certainty. Wayne chuckles as he places a hand atop yours. “Me neither.” You let out a soft laugh as you stand. “You let me know if you find him?” you ask. He nods with a smile. “You do the same.”

With a nod and wave, you walk towards your car. You grab hold of the map, noting just one last place to check. Your body slowly begins to show signs of exhaustion. Had the adrenaline finally worn off? You lightly smack your hand against your cheeks in attempt to wake up. Your hand tightly grips onto the wheel as your head floats back and forth. It didn’t help that the sun was starting to set.

In what had felt like forever, you finally pull into the Hawkin’s High parking lot. You drive to the very back of the lot, heading towards the football field. You park and grab hold of your jacket. You make the all too familiar journey towards the woods. You love these woods. You adore what happened in these woods. The place where you fell in love. You hope that this very love will bring him back to you.

Your eyes fall upon the clearing of trees. The infamous table sitting right in its center. You lightly brush your hand against its wood, remembering the incredible memories that came of it. Without a second thought, you grab your walkie. You step onto the bench, sitting atop the table. You click on the receiver, placing all the good energy you have left into this little radio. Hoping this time he will finally answer.

"Baby," you whisper. "I'm back where we first started." You look around at the trees, the fallen leaves on the ground. "I thought you might be here," you start. "Or maybe I just thought this would be the place I'd feel closest to you." You pull away from the mic, holding it against your forehead. Rushes of pins and needles flood your brain as you try your best not to cry. You are so exhausted. Every effort is spent on finding him, and primarily not breaking down.

With a quick breath, you say, "Eddie, please. We can go to Chicago, or Paris, wherever! I have been ready to start my life with you before I even met you." You rest back onto the table. You watch as the light in the sky fades darker and darker. "You don't have to protect me, baby," you sigh. "You don't have to go through this alone. You don't have to be the strong one here." The stars begin to shine brighter behind the marbled clouds.

March 24th, 1986.

Little did you know, Eddie has been listening. He's been listening since he stole that radio from the construction crew by Reefer Rick's. He goes back and forth between channels, listening out for Dustin or Wheeler's call. But he always checks back to the station you both decided on, an "in-case-of-emergencies" broadcast, hoping that you would reach out. All he wants is to hear your voice. To know you are okay. That you don't suffer the consequences of loving him, Hawkin's latest murderer. That whatever happened to Chrissy never happens to you. And for that, he knew he had to hide - to protect you.

The first time he heard your voice, you sounded frantic. It felt like a blade through his heart. His stomach tied up in knots. "Baby," you said. "Baby, please tell me where you are." You followed with, "I know you didn't do this. Please just let me help you." He misses you with ever fiber of his being. In the last month or two of knowing you, he has had the best time of his life. He got something he never even thought of wanting, being loved so dearly by you. He wouldn't trade it for the world. And he definitely wouldn't risk your life so that you could help him - even if that meant nonstop panic attacks and endless amounts of fear. God, he wished he had a nugget or two to get him through this. He thought Rick would have something, but the butt muncher's house was clean.

The second time he heard your voice, you held onto the receiver while "Take on Me" was playing in the background. He couldn't help but smile, knowing that you were smiling hard on the other end too. You both wouldn't say that this was your song, but it definitely sparks incredible memories. Next, you played "Master of Puppets." For Eddie, it was like listening to the soundtrack of your love for each other. He misses your dance sessions, and listening to different types of songs on records or cassettes. The way you both share and love Miss Betty and the high that follows. Sometimes he talks back to you, pretending as though you could hear him.

As your check in's continued, it became harder and harder to listen in. To know that you were desperately looking for him. To know the truth of what happened to Chrissy. To know that if you were to find him, there is a really good chance you would die. He would never do that to you. His heart breaks every time he hears your call. Your shaken "baby" through the radio. Tears well in his eyes as he knocks his head back onto the wood of the shack. He felt every ounce of your pain on top of his own. He wondered whether the pain of not reaching out to you would be worse than death.

But what if he died and never spoke to you again? What would that mean for you? What life would you lead after something as traumatic as that? Would you even know if he died? Or would you think he left you behind? These conflicting thoughts continued to burn inside of his skull, behind his eyelids anytime he closed his eyes. However, these thoughts were his only break from seeing Chrissy die over and over in his dreams.

Despite over 24 hours without sleep, Eddie continues to stay strong in his will to keep you safe. He’s thankful when Dustin or Steve stop by. It gives him a break from the nonstop pull of the tether between you two. But when he’s alone, it’s the absolute hardest. He sits in the full shack, wondering how long he will stay here. Will the canoe be his new bed? Will he have to hide in darkness forever? Will there be anywhere safe from Vecna?

“Baby,” he hears your voice. His head shoots up as he clumsily runs over to the radio. “I’m back where we first started.” His heart skips a beat. His eyes close, remembering your gorgeous self walking to the clearing between the trees. How you were always the beauty he looked forward to seeing. He was so thankful for having the balls to kiss you that day. The day everything changed.

“I thought you might be here,” you say. Eddie quickly stands to look out the dirtied window. It is getting dark. You shouldn’t be there. His heart starts to race. “Or maybe I just thought this would be the place I'd feel closest to you,” he hears you scoff near the end. A smile forms on his face. God, he misses seeing your smile - making you smile.

“Eddie, please. We can go to Chicago, or Paris, wherever! I have been ready to start my life with you before I even met you." His heart breaks hearing you call out to him. Every atom in his body is begging him to respond. To make you smile one more time. To give you what you need in this moment. To give him what he needs - you. The worry in your voice is enough to make his skin crawl. Those conflicting thoughts pop in again. Is it better to leave you deserted, or protected?

“You don't have to protect me, baby. You don't have to go through this alone. You don't have to be the strong one here." Eddie’s brows pull together in complete agony. He feels weak in his legs. He slides down the wall, his fists clenched as all hell. He misses you so much. Your eyes. Your smile. Your dimples. Your hair. The way your nose crinkles up when you're laughing. The way your brows push together when he makes a stupid joke. The way your body collapses into his chest with your arms around each other. He would do anything to hold you again.

Eddie's smile floods across his face. His eyes close as he grips the radio against his chest. Desperate to feel that sensation again. In his tight embrace, his thumb presses harshly against the receiver. "Eddie? Eddie, is that you?" you call out with increased excitement. "Shit!" he whisper-screams. His fingers fumble over the radio. You must have heard the feedback. “Eddie, baby,” you cry into the radio. “I heard you. Just - can you give me two clicks if you’re okay?”

He thinks about this. The risks, the rewards. He can’t put you in danger, he won’t - but would clicks really be putting you in harms way? With a bit lip, he clicks his thumb against the receiver twice. He could hear your gasp and nervous giggle. He is cheesing so hard his cheeks block his vision. “Eddie, baby,” you whisper. “I’ve missed you.” The laugh that erupts from his chest excites him. He clicks it again, thrice this time.

“Hmm,” he hears you hum. “I love you too, baby.” He is so thankful you understood. His heart fluttering with anticipation, hoping you will speak forever. He ponders the thought again. What’s the harm of you hearing his voice? Of them having a simple conversation? With a harder bite to his lip, he holds the channel open as he struggles to speak.

“Y/n,” Eddie whispers. His heart so full from speaking your name aloud, speaking to you. “Eddie,” you patch back in. Your smile audible in your voice. “I’m so sorry, love,” he whimpers. He sucks in his lip as he tries to hold back the water forming in his eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for,” you reply. Your voice so soft and comforting. “But you’re okay, right?” He weakly sighs as he knows he has quickly arrived to the point where he must lie to you. It was much easier with clicks, much harder to convey over a radio channel. “I’m okay,” he says quickly. You believe him, of course you do. “Good,” you say in relief. “That’s all I care about.”

“Where are you?” you ask. The undeniable and heartbreaking question he’s been wanting to avoid. “I can’t tell you, baby girl,” he mutters. “You don’t have to protect me, Munson. I’m a big girl,” you joke, but he isn’t laughing. “I do, y/n,” he starts. “You have zero clue what has happened. I cannot, will not bring you into this.” You sigh. His heart sinks, not being able to tell you everything. “That sounds like a lot on your shoulders,” you coo. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I’m not,” Eddie responds quickly. He winces, knowing he messed up. “Who’s with you?” you ask in a mixture of shock, anger, and hurt. “I can’t tell you,” he whispers. He knocks his head against the radio three times. Hating himself for keeping this from you, leaving you in the dark - where you’re safest. A few seconds have gone by and the channel remains quiet.

“Y/n?” he reaches out worriedly. Shortly after, he hears two clicks on the feedback. You’re okay, but you’re clearly not ready to talk after hearing that. Understandable. “What happened with Chrissy,” he begins but chokes up. His throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. His entire body rejecting the idea of talking about the experience. With a few coughs, he is able to speak again. “It was more than just me. Other people are affected by it too, and-and that’s who’s helping me,” he shares. He hopes that will be enough to bring you back to him. “We’re going after the thing that killed Chrissy.”

Eddie hears your feedback click in and then gradually out. You must have had something to say, and decided to let it go. He closes his eyes and keeps breathing. His muscles tightening across his chest. “That sounds dangerous,” you reply softly. “It is. That’s why I want you nowhere near this,” he agrees. “But I’m supposed to be fine with you risking your life?” you ask in disbelief. He shakes his head. His index fingers pressed against his temple. “If it means keeping you safe and getting justice for Chrissy, yes. I hope you will be,” he retorts.

“But I want to be there with you,” you cry into the radio. Eddie’s lips begin to quiver. He hates when you cry. His entire body feels on fire, determined to stop who or whatever is hurting you. He never thought he might’ve been the one to hurt you, never in a million years. With a shivering breath, he answers, “I know baby. I want you here. I would want you here with me, but only if it meant you wouldn’t get hurt.” As thoughts swarm his head, Chrissy’s ending some how becoming yours, he breaks. “You don’t know what happened to her,” his voice breaks. “That cannot happen to you, y/n. It can’t.”

He hears you take a deep breath. “I will try to understand,” you say slowly. It sounds as though the words are painful to get out. “Love, you should go home. It’s not safe to be out in the woods right now.” He hears the receiver click on, but then only the silence that follows. He takes in a shaky breath. He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. "How long have you been listening, Eds?" you ask quietly.

Another crossroads. Another moment to choose the truth or to lie. "I've been listening since earlier today," Eddie mutters, ashamed. You click on the channel, "Good thing you slipped on the receiver, huh?" He laughs, pushing out the remaining tears he had. God, you knew exactly how to make him laugh. How to exactly cut through an awkward conversation and fill it with laughter. He loves that about you.

"It's the best thing that's happened to me since the shire started burning," he mumbles. "Same here, my love. Just please be careful, 'cause Jason and his band of freaks are after you too," you whisper. Eddie laughs incredulously - of course they are. "Thank you for letting me know. I'll add that to my list of assholes on my ass," he scoffs.

"Well, now that you've broken radio silence. Can you keep checking in?" He blushes. He is so grateful and thankful for your love. He is reminded every day of how much you truly care for him. He doesn't know what he did to deserve you. "No matter what, I will meet you here, on our channel, at 4:30p every day," he says. This is something he can do for you, something he's happy to do for you. To give you some sort of comfort in this quiet apocalypse that Hawkins is enduring.

"Thank you," you murmur back. "I wish I could hug you. I could really use one of your tight ass hugs right about va now," Eddie mumbles into the microphone. "I would be there in a heart beat," you reply sweetly. Luckily for you both, Vecna seemingly took the night off from harassing the dear, Eddie Munson. He encourages you to travel home and stays on the infamous channel until you are tucked underneath your covers - safe and sound. You grab hold of one of his old Hellfire shirts laying across your comforter. You share how you wish he was there, snuggling up next to you. He desperately wishes he could be and helps you pretend, until you fall right asleep. Finally.

You wake up to a radio indented across your right cheek. Quickly, you check the your clock to see that it was 3:46p the following day. "Shit," you mutter under your breath. You really needed the sleep. You were able to rest once you found him, once you spoke to him. Last night felt like a dream. You pray it was real. You pray that you will hear him again at 4:30p.

You sleepily crawl up the stairs of your room and open the door to your family's kitchen. Pete turns to stare at you, his eyes like daggers. At this point, rolling your eyes to your younger brother is beyond natural. As you open the fridge door, Pete scoffs behind you. "You know they found another kid." Your heart sinks as you slowly turn to look at him. "Some kid named Fred. He was a part of your school's newspaper," he says as he harshly throws today's newspaper into your arms. "Killed just like the first girl apparently. By your boyfriend."

Your face squishes together in horrific disgust as you push the paper back into his chest. "No, Pete. Not my boyfriend," you sternly respond. You quickly lose your appetite and slam the fridge door. You close your bedroom door, locking all the bolts, and rush down the stairs. You wonder who exactly this Fred is. Did you know him? If they’re saying Eddie did it, how would he know of him?

Suddenly, you hear three clicks on the radio. You rush over, a smile beaming on your face. “Eddie?” you ask. “Hello, my love,” his sweet, tender voice comes back. “How was your day?” you ask. You feel light on your feet, completely head over heels for him. “It was something,” he starts. “Did you hear about Fred?” You bite your lip. “Yeah, do you know him?” you ask. Your mind already trying to prepare for how the police will stupidly try to pin this on him. “No, I honestly don’t think I’ve ever met him,” he shares. “He was on the other side of the lost sheep spectrum.”

Eddie’s shaken voice rings clear through the radio. “Please, for me, just stay home. This is only getting worse.” You sigh, hating the fact that the only way you can help him right now is to ensure your own safety. You just need to stay alive, for him. “I’ll stay inside,” you promise. “Thank you.” Silence fills the air, as you sit down on your favorite reading chair. You feel hopeless. Almost as though his voice is now a reminder of everything you’ve lost.

“What did you do today?” he asks with glee. You always appreciated how energetic and full of life he is. “I slept today,” you chuckle. “Ooo,” he gleams. “Mighty impressive, y/l/n.” You shake your head, a smile forming despite your desire to be sad. “What about you?” you ask, as you cross your legs. “Well, I’ve been just hanging around doing absolutely nothing,” he starts. “Dustin managed to get me a Yoo-hoo.” Dustin, your mind sparks. You hate to get excited, especially when he wants to keep his location from you. He quickly speaks again, “Forget you heard that.”

“What? The part about how you’re having a Yoo-hoo without me?” you ask, trying to make him feel better. Eddie scoffs, “Yes, I forgot I’m not allowed to have Yoo-hoo’s without you.” “Darn tootin’,” you add. “Okay, well I’m sure you’ve smoked without me so…” he inquires. “Actually, I haven’t,” you quickly respond. Your eyes wonder as the channel remains silent.

In a deep, quiet voice, he asks, “Do you have some left?” You laugh. Your eyes shooting towards your bookcase where your joint rests perfectly against the ashtray. “Yes,” you lead, curiously. “Take a hit for me?” he asks gently. You cannot help but burst into laughter. “Dustin can’t get you that?” you ask with a raised brow. “Henderson? Yeah, no,” he snorts.

“Okay, well fine. I’ll do one for you,” you say as you stand to walk to the shelf. “Okay, but keep the mic on so I can hear,” he replies excitedly. “Hear what exactly?” you chuckle. “Well, I’m going to count you through it,” he whispers. “Oh god, no,” you scoff. “Oh god, yes,” he replies. “You light it yet?” You smile, flicking your lighter. “It’s lit,” you confirm. “Alright. Breathe in - 1, 2, 3,” he starts. You follow his instructions, leaving the microphone on. “4, 5, 6,” he continues.

At this point, your eyes are watching the radio. How long is he planning on going? “7, 8, 9-” You immediately burst out coughing, waving the smoke that falls from your lips. Eddie laughs hysterically. “You only made it to nine?” he giggles. “Damn, I thought I taught you better than that, baby girl.” You roll your eyes and scoff. “I wasn’t thinking you’d be counting forever,” you whine. “God, I miss you,” he murmurs. “I miss you too, baby,” you respond. You take a deep breath, wishing he was here with you.

“Y/n,” Eddie starts. “I have to go, but I’ll meet you here at what time tomorrow?” he asks. “4:30p, baby,” you reply confidently. “Good girl,” he says smoothly. “No matter what.” You gasp, wishing he’d call you that more often. “Do you know how much I love you?” he questions. “Hmmm,” you answer, pretending to think. “Probably not that much.”

Eddie laughs, sucking his tongue against his cheek. “I love you with everything I have,” he shares through his smile. “I love you more,” you add playfully. “I love you more infinity +1,” he responds. “What does that even mean?” you choke out through a laugh. “It basically means I will love you more forever,” he answers. “By rules of math or some shit, you technically cannot love me more than I love you,” he smirks. “I’ll have to check the math on that but it’s questionable for sure,” you laugh.

“I’ll let you go, baby. Bye, Eds. Stay safe,” you share. Your heart breaking between clicks of the receiver. “No goodbye’s,” he says hurriedly. “Only see you later.” You smile. He is constantly reminding you of how perfect he is. “I’ll see you later, alligator. I love you,” you murmur. “In a while, crocodile. I love you so much, y/n,” he coos. Your heart feels so full. Just a few minutes of talking to him and you feel like you’re on the moon. Eddie Munson is the absolute love of your life, and he always assures you that you are his.

It's 4:57p and you still haven't heard from Eddie. He said he would be here yesterday. No matter what. He told you how dangerous this would be. How hard he would need to fight to ensure not just your safety, but everyone's in Hawkins. Eddie tends to exaggerate, but this felt real. It was a matter of life and death. You hated not being a part of it.

Around 6:30p, you start to reach out again. You wonder if he's in a place where he is unable to talk. Maybe he has headphones? Maybe he can just listen. You play your favorite songs - the ones you love to dance to together. You hope it will give him solace in whatever horrific things he is now a part of. You manage to keep your head down from all the ridiculous news and suburban family outcries surrounding the love of your life.

You hear a knock at the door. Your three heavy duty locks bolting it tightly shut. "Y/n," your brother calls out. "There was another one last night." A deep breath almost leaves you lightheaded. You swear, every time another body appears you are terrified it might be Eddie's. You rush upstairs and unbolt the locks. "Patrick," Pete says as he gently hands the paper to you. Your eyes fall upon the basketball team's picture, finding Patrick right beside Jason. "Shit," you whisper under your breath.

You read deeper into the article, desperately looking for the location. Found at Lover's Lake, you read. Carver swears that Munson used his "satanic powers" to murder McKinney in front of him. "Shit!" you say aloud. Your hand rushes to your forehead as your body goes limp. You lean against your doorway as all these intense emotions rush through your appendages. With a breath, you continue reading, Carver claims Munson escaped on the other side of the lake. "He's alive. He's alive. He's alive," you whisper on repeat, trying to calm yourself down.

Pete watches you with concern. A part of him is starting to realize that Eddie Munson's involvement in these murders is not lining up. There is a crap ton of coincidences, but barely any factual evidence. Plus, Pete's played dungeons and dragons before and it's fun game. But definitely not fun enough to make you start killing for the devil though. "It's going to be okay, sis’," he says as he pulls you into his chest. Sobs get stuck in your throat while you are too busy trying to be strong.

Abruptly, you pull back and suck in your lips. "Thank you," you mumble. You turn around and close the door behind you. You bolt the three locks and rush down the stairs. With a single twist, you collapse on your bed. "Where are you Eddie?" you ask into the open channel. "Just give me those two clicks." You click on the receiver twice to let him know you are okay, but all you hear is silence.

You set an alarm for every 30 minutes to try Eddie again. You spend the entire night waking up and barely sleeping, just in case you might miss him. Maybe he will have changed his mind? Maybe he would have wanted you to come meet up? Or he'll finally take you on that road trip to Chicago? A list of maybe's, but you refuse to miss any possible moment he may reach out.

The day feels colder. You haven't eaten since you last spoke with him. Your mind feels clouded. It feels crazy. You don't want to do anything and accidentally miss his voice. Pete continues to knock on your door, begging you to come out and eat. He often leaves a plate at your doorstep. However, you leave that plate to rot.

Another 4:30p passes and you feel like your heart might stop. Every knock at your door shakes you. Thoughts rush through your mind. It may not be food anymore. It's Pete coming to tell you they found him. Eddie Munson, the town's satanic freak, was dead. You were terrified within every second that passed. Not knowing what may have happened to the love of your life.

Suddenly, the floor begins to shake. Your mind is slow in acknowledging it. There are no earthquakes in Hawkins, Indiana. Then jolts, harsher and harsher. It’s impossible to ignore now. You rush to your handheld radio and hook it to your back jeans' pocket. You grip tightly against the stairs' handrails as you struggle to get to your home's main floor.

When you finally make it to the kitchen, you yell out, "Pete!" Quite frankly, the only family member you care about. "Y/n!" he yells back as he slips back onto the stairs in the living room. "Is this an earthquake?" he asks, confused. "I don't know what this is," you say as you hear the scariest sounds you have ever heard come from your home's walls. You look up to see cracks forming across the doors' thresholds.

With a loud siren, the TV quickly shifts channels to an emergency station. You and Pete rush towards it. "HAWKINS FAMILIES. EVACUATE TO THE SCHOOL. EVACUATE NOW," a stern voice yells over the speaker. "Where's mom and dad?" you ask as you grip tightly against his shoulder. "They're at some manhunt thing at the town hall," he breathlessly answers. His eyes darting to the ceiling, hearing the cracks and breaks within the walls. "Let's go," you say as you pull hard against his shoulder. You drag him out to your father's car and jump in. The car feels as though it is rolling against endless amounts of waves.

You push the radio into his hands. "Hold it open," you say. Pete quickly presses against the receiver. "Eddie, I don't know where you are but there's an earthquake. They're evacuating us at the school." Suddenly, a tree falls right onto the road before you. "Shit!" you yell as you press hard against the breaks. The radio flies out of Pete's hands and snaps in two against the dashboard.

"Are you okay?" you ask, your hands white knuckling it on the steering wheel. "Yeah, but -" he says, looking down at the broken radio. You take in a sharp breath and look back towards the road. "It's okay. Let's get safe," you say. You press on the gas and swerve around the large oak tree. As you drive, you see deep cracks in your beloved town, so deep you swear you could see lava. The shaking stops. You pray it's over. You try to keep your mind from thinking about Eddie, not until you get your brother safe. You begin to smack your hands against the wheel as you hit bumper to bumper traffic upon the windy road that leads to the high school.

Once you finally park and ensure a safe cot for your brother, you rush around desperate to find a radio. After you ask, most people ensure you that your parents will be fine. You feel dead to their kind intentions. You wish they would say them about Eddie. You watch as the police and firemen offer assignments to the destitute group. You rush to take the food bank assignment, hoping that keeping busy will keep your mind off of him. It wasn't working.

You finally fall back into your cot at 1:28a. Your sleeping brother beside you. Your heart feeling empty and desolate. The color purple begins to seep into the skin under your eyes as you continue to rack your brain with insomnia. You close your eyes only to pretend that Eddie can hear your thoughts. Hear the sweet words you were saying in your head. That he is still alive. That he will come back to you. All of a sudden, you begin to hear another voice. The voice in your head that reminds you that he won't.

After a laughable attempt to sleep, you wake up to your brother shaking your arm. "Look, it's snowing," Pete says excitedly. You look up with a squinted eye to see others and their families crowding to rush the front doors. With curiosity, you stand and walk over to the front of the gymnasium. You look up to see grey snow - wait, no. Not snow, ash. Others' faces seem to perk up in happiness and excitement. You knew better. These were the ashes of Hawkins.

As you follow a falling spec, your eyes fall upon Dustin in the distance. His face solemn, concerned. His brows pushed together. His mouth straight and stern. Without even thinking, your legs started to bring you over to him. Memories of Eddie accidentally saying his name, acknowledging that Dustin Henderson was helping him in whatever dangerous journey he was in, rush back.

Before you could stop yourself, your hands grab tightly against his collar. You pull him around the corner, away from the naive families, and push him against the wall. Your peripherals pick up quick movement beside him, but you don't give a damn. "Where is he, Dustin?" you ask through your teeth. "W-where is who?" he worriedly asks. His hands up as he desperately seeks for something behind you. "Where is Eddie Munson?!" you yell. "I know you were taking care of him. You were helping him."

Suddenly, you feel a hand upon your wrist and another set of hands upon your shoulders. You don't care enough to pull your eyes away from Henderson. "Where is he?!" you scream. "Hey, hey. I'll let you know, but you need to let go of him," you hear a soothing deep voice say. "Yeah, j-just let go," a nervous voice comes from your left. You turn to meet the eyes of one, Robin Buckley. You look the other way to see the one, the only, Steve Harrington.

Your nostrils flare as you look back at Dustin. Your grip on his collar becomes tighter. "Tell me," you seethe through your teeth. His eyes become watery as he mumbles, "Get her off of me." Steve quickly pulls you away, pushing you back. "Who the hell are you?" Steve asks. His hands and body tight, protective over Henderson. Robin stands back, watching the horrible scene unfold before her. "That doesn't matter," you say. "I need to know where Eddie is."

Steve's face winces in pain, as he slowly looks back towards Dustin. Tears were falling down the boy's cheeks. Your heart sinks, deeper than it ever has before. Your eyes begin to water as your body begins to accept the possible reality that Eddie really might not be coming back. You feel lightheaded and stumble back against your feet. Robin quickly rushes for you, catching you before you land backwards on the concrete.

Your breathing begins to rush. Your heart races as you flop over to lean against your knees and thighs. "Oh my god," you crack as you struggle to take in a deep breath. "Breathe," Robin says as she holds you up. She worriedly looks towards the boys. "Breathe, in and out," Steve says with concern as he demonstrates the breathing. Dustin slowly walks up to her. He starts to remember all the times Eddie would disappear in the cafeteria. How he would always rush over to the same girl. The same girl who was always having difficulties breathing. He would help her breathe, just like Steve is.

In that moment, Dustin knew that you were not one of the dickwads that Jason riled up to find Eddie. You were special. "What's your name?" he asks softly as you finally are able to follow the rhythm of Steve and Robin's breathing. "Y/n," you spurt out. Your eyes raising towards his. "Y/n," he whispers. His lips begin to quiver, as tears roll down his chubby cheeks once again. "He's gone." Steve's head shoots towards Dustin in shock. He did not agree that this was the time to tell her, or anyone, this.

Your eyelids begin to flutter, as the life inside you slowly dies out. You slowly rake over his body until you meet his eye line. "I asked," you snarl. "Where is he?" You have no trouble with your breathing now. The anger fuels your heart. You are determined to see him yourself. "You don't want to go there," Steve begins to mutter. "Where is he, Dustin?" you ask again, pulling your arms from Steve and Robin's support. "In front of his trailer," Dustin answers with a monotone. He has no more tears to cry. You take in a shaky breath as you close your eyes. "Thank you," you say.

You then turn around and walk towards the town. Dustin's eyes widen in horror. "No! You can't," he yells out. Steve holds him back from running after you. The Munson trailer was only a short 15 minute walk away from the high school. Your body pulls you towards him. You aren't sure what you will find, but you need to find him. Your entire body feels weightless, almost as though you can float up to the sky and disappear. You might want to after this.

Hawkins is unrecognizable. If you take away the hardened cracks within its surface, it’s still chuck full of new things. These black, thick veins that cover practically everything. You are careful to walk over them. They look slippery to the touch. Even the air feels different. It’s stuffy, dark, full of the ashes you witnessed before. Everything looks the same yet absolutely doesn’t. This isn’t just an earthquake…

Luckily for you, the pain wracking a hole in your chest saves you from the fear of this new unknown Hawkins. You come across the Forest Hills Trailer Park sign. The words are barely discernible. You turn down the road, just to see a storm forming in the distance. As you quietly walk past the familiar trailers, you begin to feel the sensation of being watched. Goosebumps begin to track up and down your arms.

A crash forms atop of you. It is so loud you place your arms atop your head. You look up to see a red aura flashing through the storm with each crash of thunder. Your eyes widen. Finally, you reach the small field between the Mayfield’s and Munson’s. Your eyes slowly fall upon the rather large pile of blood seeped into the concrete in front of Eddie’s trailer. You begin to shake, losing your breath again. “Where are you?” you whisper with trembling lips. You look around for any sign of movement. Any indication of where he might have gone. Or if something took him.

Fear spreads across your body. Maybe this was a mistake? Maybe you should’ve listened to Henderson? He could’ve helped you do this more safely. Maybe … whatever got Chrissy is still out here? The thought reminds you of how much Eddie wanted to protect you. To keep you far far away from the thing that destroyed his life. But the love you feel is determined to know his fate. Determined to know if you would see him again. You begin to hear his voice your head, “Run.”

Without a question, you run. Run back up to the road as fast as you can. You try your hardest to dodge the slimy vines, but you slide against them here and there. You can hear your heart thumping in your ears. You can also hear rustling behind you. A clear sound of something running behind you. You try to run faster. You need to live. You need to live for him or all of this shit was a waste. You run as fast as your legs can take you. Your feet screaming at you in the process.

The noises that form behind you become louder and louder. You spot a car on the side of the road. You rush towards it, quickly jumping into the driver’s seat. You pull down the visor, praying the keys were stashed there. Nope. You drop open the glove compartment. No. You reach below the steering wheel. You pull against a set of wires. Eddie briefly spoke of how to hot wire a car. How his father taught him. How it was one of the few happy memories he had with him. You try to remember the steps while continuously listening out for something behind you.

With the hit of a few wires against each other, the car’s engine ignites. Shock is written all over your face. You rush to put the car in drive and step heavily on the gas. But before you knew it, you were outside of the car again. You watch as it rolls into a ditch. You feel familiar hands at your waist and neck. The cool touched figure pulls your hair to the side, exposing your skin. You are terrified. You try not to cry in the face of death, but you learn you are not that courageous. You stand there with trembling lips, tears down your cheeks, and shaken, sobbing breaths.

With a quick movement, you feel an intense pain against the crook of your neck. You scream at the sensation. Then begin screaming the names of those who may be able to help you. Eddie, Steve, Robin, Dustin. But no one could hear you scream. No one would hear you die, but him.

Just how Kas likes it.

notes: god, i missed this. i missed baby eddie and man, oh man, do i miss leaving y'all with a cliff hanger 😈 miss you all! welcome back! ♥️

next part • the devil of hellfire •

taglist: @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @perle1990, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @hiscrimsonangel

comment on any series posts or message to be added to the taglist!🤘🏼📻 ♥️⚡️

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #kas eddie x reader #kas eddie x you #kas eddie munson #Steve harrington #Robin Buckley #vampire eddie munson #vamp eddie #kas vampire eddie #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie my beloved

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curator-on-ao3 · 7 months

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⭐️ Star ⭐️

Oh! Thank you so much for this opportunity, @divinemissem13! 💕

For the “fanfic director’s cut” meme, I want to talk about Your Voice Takes Me Home, a Pikeuna one-shot that’s about going home to someone we love at the end of a long day. It’s also about the history of:

Star Trek

feminism/women in the workplace

telephony

women’s fashion

the light bulb

Okay, so, yeah. A lot is going on here. The story is a modern AU in which Una calls Chris to let him know she’s leaving work to come home to him … through the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, and 2020s. In other words, every decade from the filming of “The Cage” (when Una says she’s on her way) until the premiere of Strange New Worlds (when she finally gets home to Chris). The rectangular lit-up train station Chris reaches in the 2010s (that Una has been in before) symbolizes Chris as a main character in Star Trek: Discovery (while Una guest stars a few times). The “box of light” that is the garage of their home symbolizes both of them as main characters in Star Trek: Strange New Worlds. (I figure their appearances in Short Treks work between those two.)

I’ve had people ask me, within the universe of the story, what’s up with the slip-sliding through time, if Chris and Una are immortal beings or stuck in some sort of temporal punishment or what. The answer in my head is that every decade has a Chris and Una. Every decade has their togetherness and their kindness toward each other and their gentle love — a connection forged in the 1960s and back on our TV screens in the 2020s. The Chrisses and the Unas all love each other and all get home to each other safely, in every decade. We only get to see them reunite in the 2020s, but they always make it home to each other because that’s what everyone should have — safety at home, whether that’s with another person or a pet or a plant or peace and quiet or joyful chaos. What Chris and Una want — and get — should be universal: home. (Kathryn Janeway has entered the chat.)

Research for this story was wild. I had to find out how car phones worked. I needed to know what emoji were available in the 2010s. I looked up professions popular for women in each decade, when LED light bulbs began, what typewriter covers were made of, and so much more. The location of the story is purposefully left amorphous so Chris and Una are more relatable, but I picture their house in Long Island, New York.

Things I think about often: Chris lovingly scolding Una for texting and driving, Una’s clothing in each decade, the sweep of Una’s headlights as she turns from the street into the driveway, the horseshoe on their home as a testament to Chris standing up to his dad.

I worked really hard on sensory details — the teacher’s lounge sofa that sighs a cigarette smoke smell, the tick-tack sound of Una’s turn signal, the rubbery buttons on the plastic car phone, the rushing river of white of perpendicular traffic in the night.

It also was important to me that Chris’ moods affect Una because I think that happens in canon … and when people love each other.

Anyway, I feel like this is a “simple” story about going home, but also a meta commentary that touches on a lot of things that are important to me.

So, yeah. Your Voice Takes Me Home. Thank you again for giving me a chance to talk about this one, @divinemissem13 — it means a lot to me. ❤️

#fanfic director’s cut #i love asks #fanfic research #unusual fanfic topics #modern au #time is wild man #una chin riley #christopher pike #pikeuna #pikeuna fanfic #pikeone #pikeone fanfic #thank you again #divinemissem13

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avenging-fandoms · 3 years

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OKAY drunk night out with your fave of choice - who is it? How likely are you to get into trouble? How likely are you to play tipsy tonsil tennis?

"chris.. how many drinks have you had?" you ask with rosy cheeks, chris giggling as he ordered another drink. you poked his cheeks, telling the bartender no more. "it's time to go"

"nooooo i was just about to have fun!" chris whined as you took his hand, pulling him away from the bar and paying the bartender. you took chris out into the cool summer night, leaning him against the wall as you called an uber.

"how many did you have to drink? honestly" you ask and chris just shrugs, giving you a shit-eating grin. you knew that meant too much, and you shook your head. you weren't drunk, but you weren't sober either. you could function much better than chris could, who was drunk off his ass. "okay, uber will be here in 30. you want to walk a bit?"

"mm, nahh. how much did you have, sexy?" he winked and you rolled your eyes, leaning your chest against his. "you're coming home with me?"

"we're married, you dork" you chuckle and he gasps, making you jump. "jesus christ, you scared me"

"i'm married to you? hold shit, i'm so fucking lucky" chris held your face and kissed you slowly. you laughed into his mouth and held his arms, letting your smile fade as the kiss heated up quickly.

chris’s tongue pushed against your teeth, and you opened your mouth slightly as his tongue pressed against yours. he tasted of shitty beer and mint, and you hummed into his mouth.

"excuse me, do you mind?" the bouncer asked and chris pulled away, giving him a shit eating grin.

"no, i don't mind" chris answered and kissed you again, the uber pulling up to the curb. he pulls away and grabs your hand, taking you into the uber. chris leaned his head against your shoulder, and you played with his fingers.

you paid the uber and thanked the driver, pulling chris out of the car. the uber drives away and you put his arm around your shoulder, but he tripped over his feet and you both fell to the grass, giggling like idiots.

"chriss!! the grass is wet" you whine and he swipes his hand over the grass, smearing it on your face and holding his stomach as he laughed. "you're such a dick!" you straddle his lap and lean over his head, and chris buried his face in your chest. "chris!" you shriek and he shushed you.

"it's nearly 2 in the morning, you're going to wake the neighbors" he mumbled into your shirt and you sat up, chris's hand on your ass. "everyone's asleep, you wanna have sex on the front lawn?" chris winked and you rolled your eyes, the both of you kissing once more and laughing into each other's mouths, in love.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans blurb #chris evans blurbs #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #steve rogers #captain america #frank adler

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xxthebubblewitchxx · 2 years

Text

Sorry for my inactivity and not beeing able to answer asks or anything, i still have a lot of work and exams :''D In the mean time i'm drawing whatever come up, hope you guys any of these.

Haru belongs to @chriss-tiny

#my art #sketch #original character #oc #Haru snail #beloved #Haji #Delaila #Khayin #not my character #Haru

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fandomfluffandfuck · 3 years

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Growing up I always heard about teenage boys puberty as literally just inappropriate erections and sex drive and aggression, so as a dude and an evanstan fan- which makes you an expert xD. What do you think Chriss and Sebs sex drives are like (as adults ofc). Together or/and separate or just whatever you feel. Love ya!

still going through my old asks- my requests are currently closed

Inappropriately times erections are probably exactly as much of puberty as it sounds like you were taught (if that's the correct word??) lol. And that a thing to be an expert on haha

But, yes, libido. The magic shit that decides if you're a horny fucker or not lmao.

Also-

This is kind of unrelated, but, I have come to realize that truly having a matched sex drive is pretty important in sexual relationships unless you're really good at negotiating lol. It's not about high or low or better or worse, it's just that you've gotta find your match.

1. Chris:

Short answer: I think Chris has a high sex drive unless he's in his own head. In his own head like with anxiety or sometimes even with work he needs to get done. However... because of that steadily high sex drive, he's probably pretty easy to sway, especially if intimate things are already happening (like cuddling) (because the boy gets too handsy for his own good and ends up making Sebastian's insides turn to mush.))

Longer answer: you know how some people are the kind of people where when they're busy they forget to eat or sleep or whatnot? Well, Chris isn’t exactly like that; he remembers to do those things but if he's busy he gets anxiety surrounding deadlines or to do lists and piling up work and so it makes his libido a little finicky. And so if he's working really hard he probably pushes his needs to the side so he can finish whatever it is, putting himself and his desires in the backseat for a second. And that is if the want to do sexy things is even there at all because again, anxiety is a bitch with killing things like that and its kinda hard to get into the moment when your thoughts are going a million miles an hour.

That being said though Chris, especially in his early adult years, radiates so much frat bro™️ energy that I cannot imagine anything but when he's just normally working- comfortably working and not stressing out, that he'd need to jerk off or get off at least every other day, possibly every day too. He's not great at delaying the inevitable, if he's horny, he's horny- why wait it out when he can take care of it now?

He just comes across to me as a, I'll just rub one out in the shower before my day gets going, when he's single, type of man. A maintainness orgasm kinda guy haha.

2. Sebastian:

I think Seb has a pretty consistent sex drive that's at, like, middle of the road all of the time. Likes he's happy to get off once a day/once every other day but he doesn't have to. He'd rather save up all that energy and spend a good amount of time working himself up for one orgasm than a few that are just, like, okay.

However.

When he gets horny...

Oh, boy, when he's horny he's horny and his sex drive can give Chris' a run for it's money (especially if he's feeling a little bratty *cough* sex kitten-ish *cough* or extra playful and wants to push Chris some).

That tendency to jump from 50 to 100 in the snap of his fingers (or, sometimes, the snap of Chris' fingers) means that when he's horny he rarely can wait. When he's cruising at his normal pace he's pretty good at staving it off until later when he's got more of a reason to get off or a natural spike in his sex drive, he likes to get off and have his orgasms feel monumentous y’know? He wants an actual release and a cliff to jump off of rather than a routine to follow through with.

Seb's more of a three/four to possibly five times a week than Chris five to six times a week.

3. Together:

You put these two together-?

Oh, boy, they're then like teenage boys for sure.

Chris' casual routine for an orgasm daily unless his work and/or emotional environment demands otherwise mixes practically fatally with Sebastian's want for his orgasms to be meaningful and big feeling... and they cannot keep their hands off of each other. They not only have sex to sate a natural urge but also to be close and feel close.

And before you know it, after they first have sex and go all in with learning what pushes the others buttons, they're the only ones who can make each other feel the way that they do y’know? Sebastian never is as loud as he is with Chris, he never cums as hard. He never floats so easily in subspace with anyone like he does with Chris... and Chris... nobody brings out Chris' dom side like Sebastian does, the kid just screams good to him. So good that he has to do something with it. Chris never cums as hard as he does with Sebastian with anyone else either, however, he also doesn't feel the sated urge from just getting Seb off with anyone else. Sometimes getting Seb to subspace and to an orgasm is better than getting off for Chris. Together they're unparalleled.

When they're together they have some sort of sex or close-to-sex intimacy every single day for sure, if not multiple times a day.

Evidence lol:

Thank you for the ask!!

#asks #my writing #evanstan #chris evans #sebastian stan #rpf #real person fanfiction #in which s dives into previous requests

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demigodsanswer · 3 years

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Could you please do “I’ve loved you all my life.” For Chrisse?

((Wow, what is this? I wrote something? Wild.

So I’ve had this medieval fantasy story living in my head rent free for months, and here’s a little taste of it, since I probably won’t ever get around to really writing it.

Also I took extreme liberties with the clothing (which means, no it’s not period accurate, yes, I know that, no, I don’t care). It’s a fantasy world. No need for historical accuracy. I make up the world, I make up the fashion. Do not come for me.))

~*~*~

Chris didn’t like the look of the grey clouds overhead as he rode out far past the palace grounds and into the woods. It felt good to ride quickly, unburdened from ceremonial clothes or heavy travel bags; his horse moved quickly over the ground, taking him exactly where Chris wanted to go - needed to go.

His father wanted him home. It was the first time he had heard from his father in earnest since Chris had been sent to stay as a ward in Lord Ares’s home. Chris figured that meant one of two things: someone in his family was sick, or his father expected him to get married. He hadn’t gotten any urgent news about his brothers, and there were no rumors of illness floating around, so he assumed it must be marriage.

Chris had spent the last eleven years living with Lord Ares’s family, training with them, studying with them. He could hardly remember his own fathers face. He wouldn’t consider Lord Ares anything close to a father, but he was closer to Ares’s children than his own brothers.

Well, at least one of them.

Chris got down off his horse. “Clarisse!” He called. She was a few feet away from him, shooting arrows into an old bail of hay. She looked like a half-dressed page boy, casual brown pants and a linen blouse under her corset, with nothing covering the loosely laced garment - completely indecent in most noble and common homes. Her hair was pinned to the back of her head, a complex weave of braids and ribbons that Chris had only seen untied a handful of times. Her hair was long and light brown, almost blonde. He loved when her hair was down, but she had no skill at putting it up on her own, and so it stayed up from when her handmaidens pinned it in the morning until it came down at night.

The trousers weren’t a surprise. Ares was a military leader, and he expected all of his children to train. And that included her. But this was undressed, even for her. Chris had seen her less dressed than this more than a few times, and he wondered - hoped - for a moment that she might be waiting for him. Or maybe, he realized, she was just too hot in the summer humidity.

She turned to face him, an arrow still in the bow, but facing the ground. She didn’t blush when she saw him, just scowled and walked over to her discarded top, and pulled it back over her head. He walked over to her and rested a hand on her hip, trying to turn her around to kiss her, but she stayed planted. Chris didn’t push it.

What had started as an experimental tryst between him and her three years ago had long since transformed into a courtly romance, and then into something closer to a full-blown affair that most in the castle staff were kind enough to turn a blind eye to, for Chris’s own safety.

“No ones seen you all morning,” Chris said. “Thought you hated archery?”

She shrugged. “I needed to hit something and didn’t have a sparing partner. And if I ruin another sword by hitting it against a tree, my father will kill me.”

“You could have asked me to spar.” They had been sparing partners for eleven years. When Chris first arrived, he was too young to hold his own against her older brothers, both nearly thirty now, and too old to reasonably fight with her younger brother, still only sixteen. Ten-year-old Chris had made the perfect sparing partner for the nine-year-old Clarisse. After eleven years, they had never swapped partners, even when their fights bordered on indecent.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, “I didn’t.” Chris turned away from her to tie up his horse. He heard the thunk of another arrow sinking into the hay before she spoke again. “Heard you’re getting married.”

Chris sighed. “I don’t know. My father wants me home for something.”

She nocked another arrow. “Not much else he’d want you home for.”

“Maybe he just misses me,” Chris suggested.

She looked back at him and frowned.

“For what it’s worth,” he walked up to her, “I don’t want to go back, and I don’t want to get married.”

“But you’ll do it anyway. Because it’s your job,” she let another arrow loose. Her last one, he noticed. He walked up to the hay and started to pluck them out for her.

“Maybe I won’t. Depends on the girl.” When he turned around, she was right behind him. She took the arrows out of his hand, never breaking eye contact.

She was easy to read; she’d never quite learned how to reign in her facial expressions or conceal her blush or tears. She didn’t cry often, and so it was scary when she did. He thought for a moment that she was crying now, and with his back up against the hay bail and her fist full of arrows, that would put him in a very dangerous position. But she looked up at the sky, confused by the sudden moisture on her cheek, only to be met with more of it suddenly.

The rain started as a light drizzle, but picked up quickly, before either of them could get back on their horses. They ran to the barn near by - it had been their hideout for years. They’d had old wool blankets stored away that would keep them warm until the storm passed. It wasn’t proper for them to spend so much unchaperoned time together anymore, not since Clarisse had become a woman at twelve, but no one had managed to get them to correct their behavior.

They ran into the barn, shutting the doors behind them, both already soaked through. Loose strands of light brown hair were stuck to Clarisse’s forehead, but she quickly wiped them away.

“You can’t get married,” she told him as if either of them had control over the situation.

“Trust me, I don’t want to marry someone else.”

She crossed her arms across her chest. She was trying to look intimidating, but she mostly looked scared and unsure. “Well, then, marry me.”

Chris walked closer to her, smiling. “What?”

“Marry me instead. Don’t you love me?” She asked like she was afraid of the answer.

Chris placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her deeply. “Of course I do,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers to keep their faces close. “I’ve loved you all my life,” she laughed at his dramatic, “will your father ever allow it?”

“Of course he will,” she sounded unsure, “you’re like a son to him.”

Chris wasn’t sure any of that was true, but he kissed her again anyway. They tumbled onto the wool blanked and bed of hay, as they had done hundreds of times before. “I won’t leave you,” he said, “I promise.”

#clarisse la rue #chris rodriguez #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #back on my bullshit

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randomsevans · 4 years

Text

PAIN OF BEING IN LOVE PART 5

“CHRIS !” Minka voice rang from the hall , instantly making Chris take a step back shoving his hands into his pockets . Leaving you grasping onto the side of the conter in shook and confusion . As you look back to Chris , all you see in his eyes is sadness and regret .

“but for who ? you , minka , HIM”

Minka came around to coner looking around the room utill her eyes met the back of Chris as he contuined to stare you .

“oh there you are “

Chris turned around and pt on an innocent small , walin gtowards Minka , and place a kiss on you forehead , as your chest tighten at the sight

“this is why you didnt want to be here , it hurts to much “ you reminded yourself .

“sorry , i didnt hear , you i was just getting so water 2 he said with a happy grin on his face

“how could he change so quickly ? oh wait his a FUCKIN actor “you asked you self

“with y/n ?“ your name was bitterly said by Minka

“ oh i just ran into her “ chris said as he tried to get Minka and himself out the room ,as he wrapped his arm around her waist

“now that hurt , is he just going to ignore what happened , you dont even FUCKIN understood what just happened”

just before there was about to turn around and leave “wait wheres your water ?” Minka asked clearly not buying it .

there was a moment of silence , before Chris spoken up

“ i already drunk it “ he said , She seemed to of brought it she nodded , closing her and leaned up and place a kiss to chriss lips which he just stoped with his eyes open slightly looking in your direction .

hurt was all you feel , as well as being confused , your mind a mush , as you watched the pair leave , Just before Chris turned the corner his eyes soften back to sadness and looked in your direction , and lazy smile lied on his face as he turned away from you and kissed the top of Minka head

Silence was the only thing that followed , complete slight , meet with a heavy breath you needed .

“ i need a FUCKIN drink !” you half yelled , half whispered

*****************************************************************

you had found you way towards scott bumping into every possible thing , personal , plant . You had been drinking none stop for the last hour and it was finally catching up to you . you were in a mind of you own as the sky had turned black , and the people were slowly beginning to leave , Your head was pounding and you felt like you were on the edge of tears once again , You were confused , hurt , in pain , sad , depressed , anxious , you name it you probable felt like it , all yu emotion blurred into one . PAIN ! and there was no stopping it .

why did chris get that close ? why was he so bothered / what is Scott playong at ?

and just like that your drunken voice called out for your best friend

“SCOTT !” You shouted the best you could your voice becoming out broken and sour form the alcohol .

when there was no answer you shouted for him again “SCOTT !”

still no answer , everyone began to look at you like you were a mad women , when you were just drunk and wanted to go home .

you become anxious you didnt know where scott was , how was you going to get home . he was the only one who was going to understand what was going on with you . You needed him .

you began to lean on a back of a chair , and stared at the ground as you began to slowly cry ,praying that Scott would come back , if anyone was to look at you , there think you thought he was dead by the way he was acting .

it wasn't until strong arms came around you shhign you , You calmed instantly as you head met his chest

“Scott ?”

“he went to the toilet “ the voice startled you , it wasn't Scott .

you pushed your self away from Chris and stepped away from him . He frowned , he eyes full of worry as you wrapped your arms around yourself

“he will come back soon enough .. you know how he is , the life of the party , he probably got disgraced “ chris let at a dry chuckle as he tried to lighten the mood , taking a step closer to you , while reaching for your arm .

“are you okay ?” he asked

you felt uneasy being this close to the man that was hurting you so much inside because you love him , your arm burning to his touch a feeling that was all to addicting .

you sighted for a second enjoying his warmth as you closed your eyes

“never better “ you snapped your eyes open , stepping back .once again , away from him . He frowned again , but as well as worry , annoyance grew in his eyes

“why are you keeping doing that ?” he snapped his eyes fixed on the ground near your shoe before flipping back to you

“doing what ? “ you asked feeling anger boil over

“keep pushing away , not want me to speak to you , be near you , help you !”

“maybe its because it dont want you too “ you barked , anger showing in your face , that grew redder ,

his fist tighten while he looked at you , his expression slightly changed to one of hurt before anger two took him over .

“why !”

just before you could l say anything someone tugged at your elbow you turned your head to see Scott with his eye fixed one you . As you looked behind him to see everyone , friend , family , neighbour looking towards you and chris . You quickly become embarrassed

“lets get you home ya ?” Scott spoke slowly and softly as your eyes went back to him , glossing over .

“yeah i think you should !” chris voice boomed in a vicious way . , your head snapped at him a s he stared at you with anger , one you have never seen before .

“CHRISTOPHER “lisa came next to chris truing to come him down , he pulled him self away from his mother , and turned to you pointing his finger at you with a cold expression

“and dont even think about coming to the wedding !”

you were in shook , you were going to explode at any moment , tears or anger was anyone guess right now

“ i wasnt planning on it “ you spitted back , releasing yourself from scott and shoving past the Evan family heading to Scott's car

i guess anger won !

Tag list

@patzammit

@little-smurf

Tag list @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @little-smurf @harrysthiccthighss @captainchrisstan @stupendousfirebouquetbwft @frencchfries @rororo06

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #captain america #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #chris #chris x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans au

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thespermdonorstorylineisstupid · 1 year

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at their wedding, saying their vows, do you think Eddie will start his with "Evan..."? because I do.

I am actually so torn about this! Like I loved "because evan" but I truly think of him as Buck first and foremost and he chose that name to represent himself and like? idk I just think if it was "Buck, I love you and I choose you" i might explode

#911 fox #ask #anon #chriss answers asks #like i like evan but Buck is who he is<3 #buddie

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phoenix--flying · 1 year

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Ehe hi phoenix!

Chris/Clarisse/Silena/Beckendorf for the ship bingo, would like to hear your opinion : D

it solves the ruegard vs beckengard, it includes chris, its a bunch of (mostly) bisexuals(/hc) what more can you want

#charles beckendorf #chris rodriguez #clarisse la rue #silena beauregard #beckengard #ruegard #chrisse #i love them #answered ask

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zwiezraczek · 4 years

Text

The Perks of being Roger's Girl... [Chapter 4]

SUMMARY: Anna is Brian’s friend, his childhood best friend. They were separated for a long time, but when Smile performs at the Royal Albert Hall, Anna is here, invited by Brian. There, she meets Roger, the dentist drummer, a loverboy.

CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4: Belonging

The Rhye, the Rainbow and the Raw

WORDS: 5.6k

TAGLIST: Leave a comment if you want to be part of the taglist! ^^

Rays of sun penetrated through the curtains she forgot to close when she came back home yesterday, in the middle of the night, absolutely – but not too much – drunk. Too happy about her friends' success, she let herself go and drank too much against Brian's will. And Lord, how much she regretted that last beer that Roger paid her, and the other ones following Seven Seas of Rhye. She had forgotten how dark the hungover place was, and how much light was aggressive towards her eyes when her head ached like it didn't for almost half a year – or even more, she couldn't really remember. The fact: she had a hungover. Another fact: it was noon indeed, and she barely remembered who walked her home yesterday – she could bet on Brian and Chrissie, but nothing was certain in her blurry mind. Why didn't she listen to Brian again...? Yes, pride. And fun. Too much of fun.

She lazily got out of her bed, shambling her way towards her bathroom. And there, she discovered her face. Oh Lord, she wished she hadn't. She had forgotten to wipe her make-up off her face when she was back home, and her panda-like look reminded her why she should have. But drunk Anna seemed to be useless, apparently, unless for dancing and drinking – these were her jams. The harsh yellowish light hit her eyes, and she struggled to wash her face without feeling either sick or dizzy. She did everything backwards, not even drinking a glass of water to soothe her hungover before cleaning her face up: useless. Sluggish and useless. She sighed as she looked at her face in the mirror, again, staring for a longer moment than intended, her hands on the edges of the sink. She recalled her dancing moment with Roger. What did she had had in mind at that particular moment, she wondered, putting her wet cold hand on her forehead. She decided to head to her living room, hoping to find some pain-killers in her drawers. And she did, and didn't even hesitate to take one of them, before snuggling into her bed to lie under her blankets and to do what a hungovered Anna was able to do the best: sleep.

Whoever called her right now tried to be dead forever, and ever. Somebody tried to contact her, at this ungodly hour for a hungovered woman. She opened an eye to look at the hour, a reasonable hour to wake up in fact, four in the afternoon. Still an ungodly hour, she thought. With a smaller headache, thirsty, yet dissatisfied because of the abrupt wake, she lay on her back contemplating the vast ceiling above her. The telephone rang for about a minute – or even longer who the hell knew – and when she thought the person abandoned the idea to talk to her ever again, it rang again, and kept ringing until she actually decided to get up and answer. Probably her parents, they knew about her going out in the previous night, and because she didn't call them in the morning, they – her mother – were thinking she was dead and already buried in a dark place.

“Are you dead,” Brian's voice greeted her, with a fabulously concerned tone as she only blinked and coughed a bit. Not her parents, she felt obliged to call them right after.

“Was in a coma from yesterday's revelries,” she admitted, trying to wake her body and mind up.

“I told you to not drink that much,” he teased her and she groaned. “But I'm calling you to ask you if we can meet tomorrow for lunch, I need to talk to you about some things.”

“To scold me?”

“Among other things,” he added playfully. “At our pub?”

“At our pub,” she confirmed. “This time, I'm drinking only coke or tea, I promise.”

“We'll see that tomorrow, sweet sister.”

“See you tomorrow Bri,” she told him before he hung up.

Great. Now, her parents.

~~~~

Anna sat in front of Brian, her elbows on the wooden table after the waiter came to ask them what they wanted to eat, and as always Anna couldn't resist the chicken pie on the menu, and Brian asked for some fish and chips. She looked at her fidgeting friend, trying to small talk her for a while before she could really see his anxiety grow. She knew Brian had anxiety problems back then, she knew it happened sometimes to him even now, but when it came right from him, when he genuinely wanted to talk about it, it was either catastrophic or really important. And she expected the latter.

She didn't want to push him, to force him to tell her what he needed to, so she sipped the tea as he talked about probably moving out his parent's house soon to live with Chrissie, and how happy he seemed to be with her. Nobody could argue. Seeing Brian this happy became her newest hobby – along with teasing him for his relationship –, when Chrisse was near him Brian beamed with joy – a smiling face Anna could kill for. She hoped his happiness would live forever with her, or just live for ever.

“I'm considering to stop my PhD,” Brian stated out of the blue, throwing Anna out of her dreamily balance about her friend's happiness. She almost chocked on her tea. Brian wanted to do what? She put the cup on the wooden table, and looked him right in the eye.

“You're joking,” she asked, astonished by what he was just telling her. Yes, his music was taking a huge part of his time, but Anna knew how much his PhD meant to him, since forever.

“Not at all, I'm deadly serious.” He planned it, he planned it all, she could be certain about it. But he wanted to know what she, his long-time friend, thought about his decision.

“Brian... We always spoke about getting our PhD's together! We're so close, we'll be Doctors Bri,” she said, as the waiter brought them their dishes and Anna smiled at him, thankful, before focusing on Brian again. “How long are you thinking about this?”

“For a long time, but really since the Top of the Pops performance,” he admitted, rolling up his sleeves and putting his dish right in front of him. “But I feel it Anna, I feel that Queen is growing bigger and bigger, both in the music industry and in my life and I know it makes me happy, maybe as much as my PhD does... I don't know,” he whispered, toying with the chips on his plate, staring blankly at what he ordered. “I just need an advice, from an old friend,” he finally said, looking up at her with an imploring look.

“You know my advice,” Anna stated, maybe a bit too coldly for him because he looked down again, and began to stuff some fries on his fork. “Do whatever makes you happy, Bri.” His eyes lightened up, almost instantaneously, his beautiful eyes looking at her. Relief could be read on his face as she smiled. “I'll always support you, Bri. A boring astrophysicist? I'm here for it,” she said and he only could groan as she slightly laughed. “A a great rock star? I'm here for it too. A great astrophysicist and a boring rock star? Brian can be both, and I'm sure you can be even more than that.” She looked at him for a moment before getting a bite of her chicken pie.

“You aroused mixed feelings in my mind Anna, but mostly joy and gratefulness,” he admitted. “Thank you for being here, with me.”

“Thank you for dragging me into this crazy adventure of yours, I'm a mere mortal,” she joked.

“A great poetry Doctor to be, not a mere mortal,” he corrected.

“You're too flattering, Brian.”

“Never too much with such a great friend,” he stated and Anna rolled her eyes with a smile.

Such a great friend that he didn't forget to scold her about what happened the other night. Anna could feel how – after their lovely moment of sharing their deepest feelings of friendship – Brian wanted to talk to her about how badly she ended up being during that night. He couldn't forget to remind her how drunk she was when he walked her home with Chrissie – so she did remember well – and how loud she was in the street, wanting to party even more than before. He had to hold her by the hand so she wouldn't fall on her knees, with her reddish face. How embarrassing. He commented that her and Freddie were unbearable together, and that was why they split up as soon as they could to not let the two of them ruin their lives together, in unison. Anna laughed it off, not showing any discomfort she felt, before sipping her tea – as promised she didn't order a beer – and slightly moving her head in disapproval of what he said about her. She did remember that night, mostly, maybe not the part about going home, but her memories were clear enough to remember every important moment of that night. And her dance with Roger, vividly. Maybe too vividly. She felt as if everything shut down around them, as they danced against each other in rhythm. Everything was playful, careless, free.

“You were flirting,” Brian interrupted her long silence. “You were definitely flirting,” he emphasized as Anna's mouth went agape.

“I danced with Mary and Freddy too,” she defended herself, her fingernails drumming on the wood. “He had his hands on your hips, you were both alone in a dark corner... Should I continue?”

“Yes and,” she asked, trying to play it cool, cooler than she thought. Because, really, she refused to see Brian's concern about what started to bloom between them.

“Freddie saw Roger's games a countless number of times...”

“Fred's a snitch,” she stated, a smirk on her face which made her friend sigh.

“But he has a point. And at that point, you were close to your drunken state.”

“ I wasn't,” she vigorously protested.

“Chrissie saw you at the bar drinking with Roger.”

“Bad sister-in-law,” she commented, biting her lower lip.

“You owe me ten bucks too,” Brian said, rising his finger.

“Jesus, you'll have your ten bucks, Mr. Boring Rock Star!” Her annoyance made him chuckle.

“Aggressive, already,” he replied, his eyes closed as he shook delicately his locks. “But I could bet another ten bucks that if not Seven Seas of Rhye, he'd kiss you in that corner.”

“For God's sake,” she almost exclaimed, exhausted by this discussion, before remembering she was in a public place. With all eyes on her now. She shrunk on her chair, under Brian's amused gaze. “Roger is your band mate, I heard so many stories about him and I'm not that stupid Bri... This was all fun and nothing else,” she lowered her tone in order to convince him – as well as herself – that this moment meant nothing. Not at that moment. Nothing.

“If you say so,” Brian replied, not convinced at all by what she had just said as he felt hesitation in her voice.

“I'll already have my success when my brother's band will become the best band in the world, why would I date one of its members when one of them is family, huh?” She smiled.

“You forget a small, tiny detail, young lady,” Brian said after he chuckled.

“You'll live and lie for me,” she quoted, as she moved her shoulders as a small girl proud of what she just did.

“I hate you so much, sister.”

“Me too, brother.”

~~~~

Anna ran her way towards the Rainbow, with her hair strictly tied, her pencil skirt making it difficult to run along with the small heels she wore. How much she regretted that she hadn't done the same choice as Brian: leaving her PhD and to be free. But without money, and any talent – unlike Brian and the band – she couldn't afford stopping her studies. She still had some books in her bag, she hadn't had the time to go home and change herself, so she had to improvise her venue at the Rainbow on that night.

The gig began at eight thirty, and the first call for the sound-check was at six. It was already seven thirty and she was still running in the streets, passing by people already there, in advance, all excited and happy to finally see their favorite band on stage. She got a few funny looks from the – stylish – people there, she had to admit that her outfit wasn't really gig related. And if she was them, she would have given herself the same look. But instead, they gave her another look when she had to rummage her bag in order to find a paper allowing her in as a staff member. Nobody made the link to the infamous rumor of her being Brian's sister, her hair was tied.

With the help of some technicians, she ran towards the wardrobe. She hoped that Freddie had everything they needed to create the fantasy make-up he wanted to go for with the whole group. She stormed in the room, to find the boys sitting in their white robes laughing for no reason – there was a reason, she just missed it. She had a funny look from Roger who couldn't really recognize her, her hair tied-up and her outfit weren't the usual Anna outfit features.

“Darling, you're saving us,” Freddie stated, being the first one to greet her as Brian just winked at her and John just smiled.

“Not with that look,” Roger commented and Anna tried to stay as calm as possible when putting down her bag full of papers and books and other things.

“I'm not the one sitting in a robe,” she replied before looking back at Freddie, “so, we should begin the whole make-up session, right?”

“Mary's outside, she should be back in a minute!”

“Perfect,” she stated and rolled up the sleeves of her burgundy turtleneck. “So, tell me what we're going for with the make-up?”

“I want it to be dramatic darling!”

“Not too dramatic,” Brian warned her, because he saw her eyes beginning to glisten. She was excited to do another thing than trying to explain the 'hidden message' of Shakespeare's poems.

“Brian already has this flowy-silky top you see over there, and mine matches his” Freddie said as he pointed towards two beautiful tops and Anna looked at Brian and the top back and forth, not believing what Freddie had just said.

“Zandra Rhodes is an amazing designer, and the top is very nice and I really like it,” he defended himself as Anna just smiled. He would look gorgeous in this top.

“He was thrilled when he saw this wedding-top,” John said while looking at Anna with smiling eyes. This guy knew how to embarrass her childhood friend. And anybody in fact. And it always fascinated her.

Brian was thankful to see Mary enter the room again, and greet Anna. The two of them immediately took the make-up they needed to begin to decorate their friend's and lover's faces. To tease him even more, Anna began with Brian. She had a fun time putting too much powder on his face to make him sneeze from time to time and he would just groan and tell her that he wouldn't forget about this disgraceful moment. He wouldn't.

As Mary was occupied with John's face, Anna had to switch to Roger's. It was probably the first time she had to be this close to his face, surrounded by people laughing and talking, in this kind of discreet intimacy. She noticed how long his eyelashes were and how beautifully his eyes glistened in the yellowish light of the room. Her brushes wandered all over his face with powder, and she wished that this moment would last forever. She couldn't resist to do the same trick she did with Brian, but going slightly heavier on powder with him that with her childhood friend. He complained for a long time about how unprofessional she was, and how he pitied the children that were her students. So she made it even worse. Freddie insisted that she should put some eyeliner on his eyelids, just to underline the whole look, Roger protested because “nobody would ever see if I'm wearing make-up or not”, to which Freddie replied that he wanted to see him with some eyeliner everytime he would turn back and to look at him during the gig to admire the work of art Anna had created out of nothing. With a laugh, Anna absolutely agreed, and Brian did too.

“Fucking siblings,” Roger mumbled under his breath as he closed his eyes to let Anna apply the eyeliner.

Anna and Mary stood backstage, enjoying the music the best they could while being on make-up duty. From time to time, the band had to play through some power cuts, or more probably to compensate during the power cuts with Freddie's attitude and his amazing power over the audience. Above every issue they had to face, Freddie played with the audience as if he was the Black Queen herself. During every short interlude, the audience hung onto his words and replied enthusiastically. Brian's White Queen gave Anna chills, as every time she heard the song, knowing exactly what it was about. She remembered when Brian first began to write the lyrics, when they were in high-school and this beautiful green-eyed blonde gave Brian goosebumps; but he never dared to go and talk to her, and when he had the occasion he lost every ounce of his soul and could only nod. From time to time, she caught Brian's eye and they exchanged a subtle smile before his fingers wandered on his guitar's strings again.

When the medley's moment came, Anna was really thrilled to hear Roger's voice in “In The Lap Of The Gods”, it became a pure pleasure to hear his angelic voice contrasting with his womanizer personality. But above all, she liked how he showed off his voice. He always complained that being in the drummer position meant being put aside, so he absolutely refused to be put aside and did whatever he could to not be left behind. He worked hard on a song for every album they had made, and in this third album – Sheer Heart Attack – he wrote a beautiful song about living in the outskirts of a big city and being an outsider. As much as Anna loved lyrical ballads – such as Brian's – this song particularly resonated in her mind as an anthem to all these kids they used to be, hoping for a better future. She could hear herself promising, swearing to herself that she would become somebody and young Anna would have been proud of her.

After half an hour, John and Freddie came backstage in a hurry, leaving Brian and Roger on stage for a while. Freddie grabbed a glass of water from Mary's hands, as Anna handed a glass of beer to John – as he had requested. She gave him a warm smile, before Freddie began to talk.

“Roger is so pissed, I can see in his charming eyes how much he wants to destroy everything here,” he snapped catching his breath as he waited for the moment they had to be back on stage.

“He tries to knock his drums out apparently,” John added before putting the glass down and Anna smiled again.

“Classic Roger,” Anna commented with her arms crossed before she handed a towel to John to let him wipe his face before she could apply some powder on his face.

“But his liner is still on point,” Freddie added as Mary put some balm on his lips and he winked. Anna could only grin, and John couldn't contain his little chuckle.

“He still won't come off stage during the whole performance,” Mary asked with her finger pressed on Freddie's lips.

“If he comes off stage he won't go back on it, he's ready to throw his whole drum set on the audience at this point,” remarked John after Anna had finished.

“They're already finishing,” Mary said concerned, “go, go we'll see you in a minute!”

And they left on stage, again.

By the very end of the show, right after the few last notes of Jailhouse Rock, Roger exploded. Under the blue lights, he pushed his drum set from the small elevated stage he was on and Anna saw the rage in his eyes after such a problematic gig. He almost made the drums fall on Freddie, who had moved right in time – without even knowing it. John was the first one to go backstage, with his bass on his shoulder still and reaching for another drink, Freddie quickly followed and Roger ran in, cursing. Brian made calmly his way towards the girls, after unplugging his guitar from the amp, and saluting the crowd again.

“These wankers and fuckers,” Roger kept on repeating. “Rainbow my ass! Thankfully we're paid for this shit!” John only reached for another drink, as he stayed silent eyeing every band member, not wanting to interfere into Roger's fulminations.

“Rog, it was fine,” Brian sighed and Anna already shook her head as she had a nervous smile on her face. Everytime the two disagreed on something – mostly on Roger's 'emotive' reactions – it never ended well. Mostly never.

“I'm fucking leaving this fucking place, I don't fucking care Brian that 'it was good'”, he mimicked his friend and Brian only rolled his eyes.

“There's only room for one hysterical queen, Roger,” Freddie remarked and Roger just groaned.

“Fine, I'm fucking leaving then,” he concluded, reaching for his jacket and starting to go towards the exit before getting struck by something. “I fucking live too far to go by foot, and they bought us here in a fucking taxi together.”

“You're stuck with us Rog,” Brian concluded as he began to take off his white top.

“Thanks Brian, you're a genius,” he sarcastically replied before almost throwing himself onto the couch next to Anna.

“I am indeed,” Brian replied with the same amount of sarcasm.

“Only one hysterical queen, Brian,” Freddie reminded them with a laugh, warning them with his index.

They all exchanged a look, and they felt a weight coming off their shoulders as they all began to laugh. All the tension was immediately gone with the wild wind. And Anna proceeded to take a make up wipe in order to clean Roger's sweaty face, he didn't even oppose when Anna's hands approached his face. As her fingers wandered on his face to remove the make up, she could feel his muscles relax under her touch, with his eyes closed. The others chatted loudly, but nothing could really disturb this quiet and quick moment – even Brian's glances.

It ended as soon as it began, leaving the White Queen and the White King to their occupations, with their friends.

~~~~

When Anna heard that Veronica was pregnant and that John asked her to be his wife, and that they had planned a wedding in January, she almost jumped up and down in her small flat out of excitement as Brian entered the place with John and she prepared some tea for the three of them. It was a blissful surprise for all of them – but especially for John when he learned that the would be a father. Anna happily made her way towards the small table they were sitting around, and put the fuming cups in front of their noses with a genuine smile on her face surrounded by her fluffy locks. She first asked if she could help with anything, and then said that if needed she could be by Veronica's side as often as needed when not working – because now, both of them were teachers in the same school and had some gossips to share. John was absolutely grateful for having a friend on his side caring so much about Veronica, because he knew she had friends but knowing that one of his own friends was able to “understand” his wife was an absolute relief – not that Brian or Freddie couldn't help or weren't willing to, but he knew that Anna would probably be a less embarrassing friend of his to stay with Veronica if needed, and he refused to talk about Roger for this, because he knew it wouldn't be a good idea.

“Thank you Anna for your kindness,” John said again after sipping some tea from his cup. “But I also came here with an unusual request.”

“Tell me John, I'll try to figure this out,” she replied after having arched an eyebrow, a little bit curious. She thought about Veronica, it had to be about Veronica for sure. She couldn't imagine anything other than that. But what unusual request it would be?

“I want you to be one of my groomsmen,” John declared and Anna almost chocked on her tea making Brian chuckle a bit.

“I told you she wouldn't be ready to hear it,” he teased John as Anna had to wipe the drops of tea from her chin.

“Groomsmen,” she repeated. It was way more than a surprise coming from John, the man faithful to traditions. “You know John, I would love to but, as in 'groomsmen' it's about being a man, you know... I can be a bridesmaid, I mean if you want! I don't want to pressure you into that or anything, I was just telling you that it would be great if...”

“I want you to be my groomswoman,” John repeated clearly as he looked her right in the eye after stopping her ramblings. “I know it's uncommon, but you are my friend first and foremost, and as much as I want to have the boys by my side during the wedding and my friends, I want to have you too.” His face was illuminated by a genuine smile, a smile a child could have when asking for a favor, something that was dear to their heart and that would immediately kill them if it wasn't provided. And Anna wanted to keep John happy, because he was her friend too, and she just felt happy that he thought of her as his too.

“If it doesn't bother you more than that, I would love to be your groomswoman, John,” she replied with a smile before Brian gave her a gentle pat on her shoulder.

“I told you that she would say yes. The only thing that scares her more than people's looks are spiders,” he joked and she just sighed.

“We don't joke with spiders, Bri,” she whined before rolling her eyes. “So,” she quickly said, “where and when we're having your bachelor party?”

“And I also told you that she wouldn't miss a chance to have fun,” Brian added making the two of them laugh.

Freddie was the one organizing the party at his flat. As John's witness, he insisted on doing this party as it should have been done – minus the strip club part, because he knew that Veronica wouldn't appreciate her husband-to-be going in such places and because Anna was with them, not because it would have been awkward for them or her but because nobody would let her in in such a club without being a huge jerk to her – and prepared a feast with candlelight and beers for the groomspals. A noun of Freddie's own invention he proudly exposed to John and Anna once – because darlings, we need to include our other May to the pack!

Anna had never really paid attention as she should have to Freddie's decoration of his flat, and God knew how much time she had spent in it with Mary drinking wine. The ground was covered with these large old-patterned carpets laying one on another creating a nice volume to the floor, with vintage cushions thrown almost everywhere on the seats or the sofa, and the red curtains covering the windows of the living room, dimming the lights of the place as if it was a dream. A beautiful midwinter night's dream. And this dreamlike atmosphere gave her happy chills.

It wasn't even late December, and she already expected some snow to fall this year in London as she walked down the street. She only hoped that the groom and the bride wouldn't have to freeze in the snow when they would get married. The wedding was to be held in January, on the eighteenth but John wanted to celebrate his bachelor party as soon as he could – and as late as he could, according to Freddie – because of Christmas and New Year's eve that they would probably spend together. Anna still wondered what they were about to make for the New Year's Eve together this year, as a huge band. They had already spent a few Eves together, but this year Freddie talked about something grand. And honestly, Anna couldn't wait to see that. All of this destroyed John's plans to combine his party and New Year's Eve, a proposition Freddie had immediately refused while making a great fuss about it – Veronica had said that to Anna while they were on a recess together, drinking tea. And now, Freddie was running everywhere putting cans of beer on the table, not even being able to greet Anna properly at the door, a task delegated to Brian who gladly welcomed her inside.

John had invited a few childhood friends to celebrate his last moments – not the lasts darling! – as a bachelor, they were a happy dozen there, drinking some alcohol and singing while talking about things and others. First, Anna could feel tension in the air as John's friends began to join the party. She noticed how they looked at her, not knowing if this lady sitting right here next to Brian laughing with him pretty loudly and devoured by Roger's eyes was a hooker or the infamous Anna John couldn't shut up about. But slowly, the atmosphere loosened up with alcohol's help. Yet, apparently, there was never enough alcohol for Freddie and John who began to dance together to some tunes on the radio. They danced effortlessly, Freddie was a great dancer indeed, but Deacy was nicknamed the dancing queen for a reason: his fluid and unpredictable movements were candy to the guest's eyes. Anna couldn't stop herself from laughing, her head resting on Brian's shoulder, her legs crossed and her eyes now looking at Roger. He was smoking another cigarette in a detached manner, his blue hooded eyes locked on her for a while – at least, she thought so – and she couldn't tell what that look meant. What this little sparkle in his eyes meant. Especially after the Top Of the Pops night. Almost nine months had passed and they had never talked about that night. It was an uneasy subject for both of them, for one reason or another, yet their friendship never ceased. They only caught themselves staring at each other from time to time, a little bit longer than intended, or to be a little more tactile than before. Anna noticed that she thought a lot about him, for no apparent reason, probably because he was fun to hang out with, a great and powerful song-writer who came from time to time to seek some advice, a caring man and a really exceptional friend. Or maybe even more.

Suddenly, she heard a thud next to her, making her break contact with Roger's eyes before anyone would notice. John fell on the couch next to her, with a blissfully happy expression, a feeling nobody in the room shared with him after this big fall. His cheeks were even redder than before, and his head was slightly spinning as he took a beer from the table in front of him, another one gone into his mind.

“Ronnie is truly the love of my life,” he stated after having gulped the whole beer at once. He seemed happy and loosen up. He seemed in another world, yet stuck in reality. And Anna wasn't sure if it was a new state or not. “I love her so much, I'm going to be a dad you know guys... I hope we'll have many many children together, with Ronnie...”

“You will,” one of his friends said, patting his forearm gently from the chair next to John.

“I can tell you that Ronnie is very happy to be by your side,” Anna added, her head no longer on Brian's shoulder. She was facing John with a tipsy yet concerned smile.

“Thank you for being here with us Anna,” John immediately replied, grabbing her by her hands with smiling yet vacant eyes. “I know it's a funny request for a traditional guy like me but I'm glad you accepted it and that you're here with us...”

“John you're so sappy mate,” Roger remarked before taking another puff on his cigarette. “Should slow down on the alcohol sometime soon.”

“Don't be ridiculous Roger darling,” Freddie interrupted him as he put his arms around Roger's neck and rested his chin on his shoulder. “Don't be such a killjoy and let our baby Deacy drink a bit!”

And they drank. Never too much.

#roger taylor #ben hardy #brian may #gwilym lee #freddie mercury #rami malek #john deacon #joe mazzello #mary austin #lucy boynton #queen band #queen #bohemian rhapsody #queen fanfiction

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 5 years

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Old Habits

Peter Vincent x Reader, Angst, Comfort

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Trigger Warning: Mentions of past abusive relationship

Summary: You are trying to rebuild your life in Las Vegas working for the infamous Peter Vincent, but the past has trouble letting go.

A/N: I have no idea why I wrote this aside from I needed to. I’ve been a slut for David Tennant since 2009 and back on my bullshit, what can I say? PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS!!!

Word Count: 3.3K

You told yourself you would never go back to Las Vegas.

It was a long decaying playground in the middle of nowhere that should had died along with the seventies. But, it was home. And when everything in your life falls apart, what else can you do but go home?

You had needed to get out of New York. Too many terrible memories and mistakes haunted every corner of the city. You need familiar territory, someplace to ground yourself in the here and now. Luckily, you still had friends you could rely on.

Jane Brewster was the first person you called when you had finally decided to leave. She practically demanded you stay at her place until you had one of your own. Charley was off at college and wouldn’t be back until winter break. You talked her down, and with respect to your pride, she conceded a motel room would be best for the time being. That didn’t stop her from reaching out to a friend about getting you a job.

You were certain the story of how Real Estate Agent, Jane Brewster and Occultist Magic Performer, Peter Vincent became friends was a long and interesting one. The fact you could never get a straight answer from either of them as to how it happened, however, told you otherwise.

He was a little prickly about your employment at first; but, once you showed him a resume the length of his arm detailing the performers you had been either personal assistant to or represented, on and off Broadway, he started changed his tune.

Peter Vincent was, complicated, to say the least. On the one hand, he was a dick. One could say it was just because he was a perfectionist, but that was being generous. Fright Night wasn’t exactly the Royal Shakespeare company, and he had a tendency to snap at other performers and make-up people alike when he was even slightly irritated. At the same time, he had his own unique charm, an indefinable manic energy that couldn’t help but draw you in. Pair that with his more flamboyant tendencies, and he could be downright entertaining. It left you in a constant state not knowing whether you wanted to laugh or smack him.

He seemed to understand your predicament and made it his mission to leave you even more confused than before.

You wouldn’t go so far as to say you were friends. You never hung out after work, or disclosed anything too personal, but there was a comfortable familiarity to your interactions. You could call him an asshole and know he wouldn’t take it personally, while he could call you an uptight know it all, with the assurance that all you’d do is give him a light-hearted eyeroll. In short you liked him. And slowly, the idea of Las Vegas truly becoming your home once more didn’t seem so terrible. But, like so many things in your life, the good things could never last.

You were standing in Peter’s apartment when it happened. Another show had ended, and you were going over upcoming appearances at various occult conventions.

“No, no, no, please I’m begging you. I am literally begging you, don’t tell me they put me on a panel with that prick,” Peter complained, pouring himself a drink.

You shrugged. “You can’t deny Chriss Angel is one of the few magicians people can actually name.”

“But I’m not a magician,” he defended. “I’m an occultist, there’s a difference.”

“You put on a goth-tastic special effects show wearing guy-liner and skin tight leather pants, name me a difference that counts.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but settled on making an exaggerated grimace before taking a sip from his drink.

“Besides that, I already RSVPed for you,” you continued. “Rest assured there will be a cabinet of alcohol in your hotel room you when you’re done.”

“I know I should be insulted, but that really does make up for it.”

Your lip involuntarily twisted upward at his sardonic response. “And auditions. Maggie is going off on maternity leave soon. I’ve already sorted through head-shots and just need your approval on who to call back.”

You handed him a small pile of photos. He took it, making a cursory glance at each of them without bothering to look at the resumes on the back before he tossed them into two piles.

“Yes. No,” he said pointing to the left and right piles respectively.

“Okay, just remember to be there Thursday.”

He let out a long groan. “Can’t you just do that?”

“You’re the one who has to work with them.”

“Sure, but I trust you to know which ones are idiots and which ones are actually going to hit their marks.”

You rolled your eyes. “If that was really all you cared about, you’d just have me do it.”

“You could,” he said, sounding oddly okay with the idea.

“I don’t think I can pull off a pho-leather corset,” you replied, sardonically.

He didn’t say anything, taking a moment to look you up and down before tilting his head to the side in thought. “Well…”

You pressed your lip into a thin line and raised an eyebrow. Immediately his eyes widened as he attempted to back track.

“You’re right, you can’t.”

You crossed your arms, your expression making it very clear you were not impressed.

“Not that you couldn’t if you wanted to,” he floundered. “It’s just it would perhaps be inappropriate for you to…” He stopped, as a realization dawned on him. “You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?”

You broke as a wide smile spread across your face. “Only a little.”

“Right.” He straightened up, trying to scrape together at least some dignity. “Let’s just erase the last minute of conversation.”

“Already deleted,” you assured.

He smiled in thanks, but before either of you could say something clever, your phone rang. You didn’t bother to check the ID before you answered.

“Y/N speaking.”

“Hello Y/N,” an all too familiar voice answered.

You froze. You could feel the blood drain from your face even as your heart pumped hard against your rib cage. You needed to hang up. You needed to will your limbs to do something other than stand there. Your hand began the process of pulling away from your ear when he spoke again.

“Don’t hang up.” There was no urgency in his tone. Only a casual confidence, as if he were standing in the room with you instead of thousands of miles away. Logically you knew it wasn’t the case but thought of it made you stop. On instinct, you brushed your hand against your throat as if to make sure there was nothing pressed against it but empty air.

“How did you get this number,” you asked, trying desperately to keep your voice calm.

“Believe it or not some of our friends still talk to me,” he replied easily. That was always his trick, wasn’t it? An easy answer to everything. “I just want to talk.”

“I don’t.” Your hands weren’t shaking so badly as before now the initial shock was gone. “Goodbye Eric.”

“Don’t hang up!” he snapped into the line. To your surprise, you didn’t feel the sudden urge to obey. Before you could question why, you hung up.

Immediately your phone began to ring again. You denied the call, clutching your phone tightly in your hand as if that would suddenly make the vibrations disappear.

He had no power over you here, you remined yourself. Your mind was clear. You had control over your limbs and thoughts. There were no hands are teeth pressed against your throat. He couldn’t hurt you.

You were so determined to repeat those thoughts over and over again in your mind, you forgot who else was in the room with you.

“Y/N,” Peter’s voice cut through the fog. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You didn’t know what to say. The truth was out of the question. You weren’t certain you knew the truth yourself. But there was no hiding the way you were shaking.

He looked lost for a moment, shifting back and forth, still deciding if it was safe to come near you.

You flinched as your phone began to ring again.

Peter made the first move. In a single stride he crossed the room, pulled the phone away from your death grip, and practically threw it into the closest chair before covering it with a pillow for good measure. The vibrations where now effectively muffled leaving silence in its wake.

He turned to you, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “Y/N.”

You met his gaze.

His eyes were soft and a little unsure. It was an expression you had never seen from him, but you felt just a little better at the sight.

“Who was that?” he asked.

You didn’t want to say his name again as if repeating would somehow summon him. All you could manage of a small, “Ex.”

Peter nodded in understanding. You weren’t sure how much Jane had told him, if anything at all, but you knew he was smart enough to tie your reaction to why you left New York.

“What do you need?”

You needed to throw up. You needed a ticket to a desert island with no chance of him finding you. You needed a death certificate with his name plastered all over it. But at that exact moment you just needed to curl into a ball somewhere private.

“I want to go home,” you said.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

You nodded.

Peter took a breath, before nodding himself. “Alright, I’ll give you a lift,” he said, swinging on his jacket. “Don’t argue.”

You didn’t have it in you anyway.

The elevator ride down to the parking garage was a silent one, for which you were grateful. You couldn’t really explain how you were still standing up right.

Peter led you to his car, and the pair of you sped off into the night. It wasn’t until you were clear of the strip and well into the desert that he spoke again.

“You sure your ex isn’t in town?”

The questions took you by surprise. You had been preparing for yourself for the inevitable “what did he do”. But, it was obvious the answer didn’t matter to Peter, all that mattered was how what he did affected you. You had never been so relieved in your life.

“I don’t think he would have called me if he was,” you said, having given the matter a great deal of thought. “He’d just show up.”

“So why call you?” Peter asked, confused. “Why not wait until he knows where you are?”

“I think he was hoping I’d just tell him. He’s…” You paused, trying to find a way to describe what Eric could do without sounding completely insane. “He’s got a way of getting people to do exactly what he wants.”

“How?”

You shrugged. All you could really remember was the way Eric’s eyes would penetrate yours before the inevitable fog overwhelmed your senses until you couldn’t tell up from down. Once again, you hand went to your neck. The scars had faded, but the ghost of pain remained.

“He just does,” was all you could say. “I guess it doesn’t work over the phone.”

Peter noticed your motions but made no comment on it. A look crossed his features you couldn’t name, but it left you wondering if he knew something you didn’t.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asked, not allowing you time to dwell on the thought.

You let out a long breath. “I don’t know.”

Eric wasn’t the first. He was simply the latest in a long line of assholes you had allowed to control you. You didn’t know how it happened. Everything started off fine, but sooner or things would start to happen. They’d start screening your calls. Girls nights would be canceled because they claimed you weren’t spending enough time with them. Accusations of cheating would be leveled left and right to make you feel guilty at even talking to anyone else. Then, one night, they’d take it too far and you would run until you found someone else and the whole cycle would begin again. Maybe Eric was the logical end to all this. Someone who could quite literally take complete control. Maybe you had been asking for this.

“Do you ever feel like you’re making the same mistakes over and over and over again?” you said, quietly. “You get yourself in or put yourself in a situation, and every time you know exactly how it’s going to end, but you go through the same motions every time and it never stops; because for some sick reason you don’t want it to stop. Because there’s…I don’t know, a comfort in the repetition.”

“You’re asking the barely functional alcoholic this?” Peter said.

You laughed. You were surprised you laughed, but matter of fact sarcasm in his voice paired with a reassuring smile gave you permission to do so.

“Well, you ask a stupid question,” you mumbled sardonically.

Peter shook his head. “It’s not a stupid question,” he assured. “I think it’s just something people do. Good or bad, you stick to what you know.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, allowing the truth of the statement to float in the air a while. This was the longest conversation you could recall having with Peter that didn’t involve you either reminding him of an appointment or ending in some kind of banter. But what was weird was it didn’t feel weird.

Still you felt obligated to say, “I’m sorry I’m laying all this on you.”

“It’s alright,” he assured. He sounded like he meant it too, even as a slightly awkward expression settled on his face. “I’m not sure how to not make this sound bad, but it’s kind of nice to know I’m not the only one with issues.”

You blinked. “You’re right. There is no way to not make that sound bad.”

He winced, his mind clearly working very hard to find a way to back track. Given the circumstances, you decided to show him some mercy.

“But, I know what you’re getting at,” you said, with a half-smile.

You could almost hear his sigh of relief.

“I wouldn’t have guessed it,” he admitted, after a short pause. “You always struck me as someone who would never let anyone tell them what to do.”

“I try to be,” you admitted, as your insides turned over. “But, old habits.”

He didn’t say anything more, and you were grateful. You each had given more away than either of you intended.

Soon enough had pulled up in front of your apartment, but neither of you felt the immediate need to get out of the car.

“Do you need someone here?” he asked. “You know, just in case?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. I might call Jane, see if she can come over.”

He nodded, but that awkward expression didn’t leave as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Or, I can stay,” he offered, “if you’d like.”

You stared at him a moment. You imagined inviting him in. You could see him entering your small apartment with the pile of empty cardboard boxes still sitting in the corner of your living room. You imagined sitting down on the couch side by side, the space fading between you until you could rest your head against his shoulder. You imagined those warm brown eyes staring down at you, before you pressed your lips to his and--

You tore you mind away from the thought before it could go any further.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said, softly.

A flash of hurt played out behind his eyes before he got the chance to hide it. “Right, yeah.”

“No, that’s not what I—”

“It’s fine.”

“I didn’t mean—”

There was a pause. Neither of you could look at each other, but you also didn’t want it to end the night this way. Why did you always find a way to make things complicated?

“Peter,” you said, taking a long breath, “my life is a complete mess. I’m a complete mess. Bad things just keep happening and I… I don’t want bad things to happen to you. I’m sorry, I—"

“Don’t,” he cut in sharply. “Don’t apologize for something he did.”

You stopped then. There was a conviction in his tone that made you have to stop, even as your heart rate spiked. He seemed to have noticed, and his tone immediately softened.

“Y/N? Please, look at me.”

You did so, and in that moment, you wondered how you never noticed just how wide and open his eyes truly were.

“Look I don’t know if I’m crossing a line, or behind the line, or dancing a jig on top of it, and if I am making you uncomfortable, I’ll hop right back over it again, but I just…”

He stopped running a hand through his hair to get his thoughts in order. “So, you’re a mess, that’s fine because that doesn’t stop you from being a good person. And you are, Y/N, you are a good person. You’re so good. And you deserve…fuck, you deserve only good things to happen to you.”

You could feel your throat tighten. The way his eyes bore into yours reminding you again and again of the sincere place his words were coming from. A surge of emotion flooded your chest until it spilled over into tears on your cheeks.

“Shit,” Peter said, immediately going into a panic. “Shit, shit, shit. Look, what I said, if I—”

“No,” you assured. “No, what you said was perfect.” You tried to get a grip, but the tears continued down your face as your breath shook. “It’s just…you’re really nice.”

Peter stared at you, clearly unsure as to what to do. “I’m not though,” he said.

A sad smile came to your lips. “Yes you are.”

Before you could question your actions, you cupped his cheek, and closed the distance between you, placing a gentle kiss against the other. Your lips landed a hair away from the corner of his mouth, his light stubble feeling oddly comforting against your skin.

He looked like a dear in headlights by the time you pulled away. Neither of you moved, for a moment. You could only take a guess at what he was thinking. For a second you noticed his eyes dart to your lips. You wondered if he would close the gap and kiss you properly this time, but he made no move. You had drawn the line in the sand, and he was going to stay respectfully on the other side. Somehow, that made having to leave even worse.

Without another word, you pulled your hand away and walked out of the car to your apartment.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter stared after you as you walked through the door and well after it closed. He could still feel your hand on his cheek and the warm of your lips against his skin. His heart pounded against his ribs and in his throat, it was making it impossible to think clearly.

He leaned back against his seat trying to calm himself down. You weren’t in a good place right now. Putting aside the general obstacle that you were still his employee; you had just gotten out of an extremely toxic relationship with a man who was either a class A manipulator, or quite possibly, some sort of supernatural creature.

Of course, he couldn’t say that. Not without proof. And he hoped for your sake he wouldn’t get it.

You weren’t in a good place. Anything you said or did tonight didn’t count.

He let out a long breath, repeating the thought like mantra over and over again.

He really had wanted to kiss you just then.

With a frustrated groan he gripped the stirring wheel tightly before mumbling softly, and with feeling, “Fuck.”

#peter vincent #peter vincent x reader #david tennant #david tennant x reader #fright night #fright night (2011)#tw: abusive relationship #tw: past abuse

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chrissykissy · 4 years

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hey, Professor Callaghan! I shot ya an ask earlier, but this site must've eaten it ^^; anyway, what's your favorite thing about Chriss? (k-liight-selfships)

answering these w my self inserts’ names instead of my Actual name bc im very particular abt it! but like, dw you didnt know

Oh! I apologize for any presumed technical difficulty; both of your messages found me well. Miss Krei and I first met during my prison sentence. I wasn’t exactly in the market for visitors, but, well, you know Brighid–she insisted. Asked an excess of questions about my business with her uncle. I don’t think she liked some of my answers… but we’re past that, now.

As for a favorite thing, oh, how could I choose? I often find myself in admiration of her spirit for others, such determination when her loved ones are on the line. I see a good bit of myself in her, I think.

#fo takeover #fo: ❣️that was he’s mistake❣️#si: 🥝spoiled rotten🥝#and fuck it:#robert callaghan #spacey arts things

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dinviataunuitiptrans · 4 years

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#dinviataunuitiptrans

It's 2020 and my only resolution is to take it easy on me and go walk whenever I feel the sadness circling my soul, so this day I do just that.

I woke up freezing because the heater got broken and I know that if I stay indoors I'm gonna fall into some sort of despair so I go and brew some few cups of tea, purr them in bottles, roll up my last blunt from the stash, eat some pasta left overs from new years eve, dress myself in pretty colors and head out. It's been one hour of walking therapy so I stop by McD. to pee and then head out to the small park to have a smoke and rest my legs.

"- Futu-ți morții mă-tii de adiere băşită" is the best my brain could think of when the wind blowed away the tobacco from my rizla while trying to roll, so I start all over.

"- Futu-ți morții mă-tii...", this is my second attempt, the tobacco is all over my pants so I take a deep breath and keep on trying.

"- Futu-ți morții mă-tiiiii!!!!"

That was my 3d attempt to roll but the wind had other plans for my lungs. But then you came bye amused by the words you didn't understand, holding a pack of cigarettes and inviting me to stop fighting the wind and have a smoke from your pack. So I take one and you take a seat next to me and we lit up the cancer tubes, I say thanks and you say I'm very cute and smile. To scare the shyness away I pretend to flip my hair in the gayest way possible:

- Oh, just cute? and I thought I was beautiful, now you destroyed my dreams to ever be an instagram sensation.

You start laughing and tell me I'm actually beautiful and we start playing this game where we kinda make fun of how dumb we as humans are, I'm cracking up silly jokes and you do the same, I tell you I find you very cute also and I apologise for shattering your dreams of being an insta model, you laugh and you give me another cigarette and then move a bit closer to me.

- You're very smart for such a young guy...are you seeing someone?

- Love, you're sweet but I'm not that young...

Then you touch my hand and tell me you already like me and that I don't have to lie to impress you because you have been with guys younger than my age. That's how I find out that I'm most likely 22 or 23 and that you're just few years older than me, you're 25. I tell you lies are not my sexy kink and that I'm born in 1984, on the 31st of May. You laugh but I see the awe on your face so I tell you the good looks run in my family and that if you see my brothers you'll know what I'm talking about.

- Show me

You say that and then cuddled so close to me that you give me no option but put my arm around you while I start pulling out pictures from the phone.

- Here is Patrick, he's the love of my life and one of the sweetest man the Universe has given us. He's gonna be 35 this year.

You say we look alike but that I'm prettier than him so I turn a bit red and start feeling kind of uncomfortable so I swipe away.

- In this picture he's with Max, they are at a court hearing. Max is the oldest one, he is in his 40s and he lives here in UK but up north. I haven't seen him for ages and I miss him and his signature paranoia very much. This is Andrei, I have tons of pictures with him, we live together and he is so sweet that every time I think of him my heart melts. Probably the reason I take secret pictures of him while sleeping.

I show you more pictures with him and tell you the story when I had to sleep in his room and how he cuddled close to me when we were sleeping and you press yourself against my body and tell me you get it why. This makes me feel even more uncomfortable cuz you kinda took up every cm of my personal space but I don't know what to do so I brush it off.

- He's 22 and he might be one of the sexiest of us but he's not the youngest, Gherman is. See? This is Gabi but I call him Gherman, this is a screenshot from one of our chats, I always do this pictures when we talk so that I have them to look at when I miss them. You would say he's 14 but actually he just turned 18. He's an adorable pain in the ass but with the soul in the right place. And this is Chriss, look how gorgeous this guy is and his heart is pure gold. He's such a talented artist but unfortunately he wasn't discovered yet, he draws nudes and erotic art and it's mind fucking blowing. This is a photo with Chriss, Rami and Teo, I almost cried when I got these pictures of them. Rami represents the whole notion of humanness and he's shy just like me.

- This guy is blonde... is he also your brother?

You pointed out to Teo so I show you more pictures with him and then pull up pictures with Andreas also.

- Yeah, we have few blondes in our family but we decided to love them nonetheless. This is Andreas, not only that he's blond but he's also a very wise man. It's always such a pleasure talking to him. He's in Germany now. Just like Leo.

I'm looking for pictures with Leo so I start scrolling for the screenshots from the last whatsapp conversation and you decide to take a break from your cuddle and have a smoke. Now I feel more comfortable even though you're still resting your body next to mine.

- Here is my adorable Leo.

- He looks alot like the first guy without the beard..

- Like Patrick?

- Yeah

You see the pictures with me and Vlăduț and you like him.

- This is your brother also, I can tell. Is he old like you?

- No, actually he's young like you. And also an amazing musician and sound therapist. He makes sounds with weird instruments and then you feel a bit better. But he's not in London anymore, he returned home, he wasn't feeling very good here.

I feel you're a bit disappointed and probably thinking that you'll have to settle with me but once you get me started with my brothers it's very hard to make me stop.

- And this is Aris, he looks like an artist because he is one, he's a painter and a tattoo artist. And this is Elias, if you're ever looking for a smart conversation then he's the guy to go to. Him or Alexander. The difference is the sarcasm of Alex versus the warmth of Elias.

Then I show you Alexander and you smile and ask me if Elias and Alex are twins but I have no chance to answer because now you're handing me your phone and ask me to pull up my fb and I do just that so you start looking around while I'm getting even more nostalgic going through the pictures in my phone. I'm looking for a picture with Abel but I have no more time to show it to you

- You're transgendered?

- Oh love, there's no such thing as being "transgendered", nobody can transgender me, I am transgender because this is how I am.

- You mean you're not a real man?

- I'm just as a real human as you are love, and for sure am a man. Just that I'm a trans man

- And you're proud of this sickness...

And then you show me my cover photo.

I felt your disgust even since you said "Trasgendered" and I know very well that look in your eyes, I once had a crazy girlfriend who used to look at me just like that and somehow it feels so fucking familiar that I sense what is going to happen next so I try my best to avoid it. I tell you that each of us has its own life to live and that people must learn to accept and embrace diversity if we want to heal this human race. I tell you that body parts are just that, body parts and that gender identity is not defined by sexual anatomy. I want to tell you more but I was right and you snap into rage mode, slap the shit out of me almost poking my eye out with your nails.

- Fucking disgusting predator, man with pussy, you should be burned alive.

You walk away in anger showing the middle finger, shouting "fuck you", so I shout back that you wish to have the luck to get fucked by such a proud trans man but that I don't fuck crazy bitches anymore so you turned around and you were fuming so I told you that if you come back to hit me again I'm gonna punch you in the face. You left. I start rolling one and feel sorry I got angry and yelled back but somehow so relieved that you went away.

Dear L.,

You have my FB now and somehow I hope this message gets to you: please get some medical help you are in desperate need, and you won't get to meet nice guys like me everywhere.

I know you have serious mental issues cuz a healthy mind wouldn't let you go to total strangers looking for their attention and affection on a bench in a park, you don't cuddle with strange men and expose yourself like that.

I lived with a girl like you, extremely violent and unstable that is, for a whole year and I know that you were just looking to meet somebody that looks like a nice guy but actually hoping to get an asshole so you can have an excuse to violently manifest your pain. Been there through that already so I know the drill. The fact that you discovered I'm transgender was just the trigger you were looking for, and I didn't feel you hated me but I did feel that you wanted to make someone suffer and you found me, so it was just a matter of time until something would have triggered you.

PS: I'm sorry I threatened you but I don't like being hit. I wouldn't have hit you back but I would have called the ambulance because I learned that being a sweet person doesn't help when somebody suffers like you do.

#trans guy #trans man #transform #transition #transgender #unicorn #trans pride #trans is beautiful #trans is valid #trans and proud #dinviataunuitiptrans

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